Irish author Sally Rooney has a renowned canon of literary fiction works; from Conversations with Friends to Normal People, her novels have received great acclaim. Recently, however, many have discovered Rooney through the controversy of her latest book, Intermezzo.
Intermezzo follows two brothers, Peter and Ivan Koubek, as they navigate grief after their father’s death while each struggles with their romantic relationships. Peter, a successful lawyer, is caught between his former partner, Sylvia, and Naomi, a younger woman with whom he shares an intense yet unstable connection—all while quietly relying on self-medication to manage his inner turmoil. Ivan, younger, socially awkward, and gifted, enters a tentative relationship with Margaret, an older woman confronting her own sense of stagnation and loss. Through shifting perspectives and understated moments rather than dramatic plot turns, the novel explores loneliness, miscommunication, power dynamics, and the fragile ways people seek intimacy while protecting themselves from vulnerability. This story ultimately portrays grief and connection as ongoing, imperfect emotional processes rather than problems to be neatly resolved.
Personally, I find it easy to enjoy a book. Regardless of whether I like the characters, themes, or events, I try to engage with the complexities within each story; for me, Intermezzo was no exception. As I read, many elements interested me, though some were slightly underdeveloped. However, when I did my usual TikTok search of the book after finishing it, I was shocked to see the controversy surrounding not only the book, but Rooney as an author.
Several online reviews complained about the structure, length, perceived lack of development, handling of sensitive subjects, and inconsistencies within the characters. I want to explore each of these concerns and explain why I believe many of them are more intentional than careless.
Criticism of Writing Style and world-building
When it came to the book’s structure, many readers disliked the absence of quotation marks and the stream-of-consciousness style of writing. While there are sections of the book I agree could be seen as flawed, this is not one of them. I thought the structure was a creative way to represent what was happening in each of the brothers’ minds. Ivan’s social awkwardness and internal frustrations contrasted with Peter’s spiraling thoughts and suicidal ideation. These aspects are what made the long, run-on sentences feel intentional. The reader is placed directly inside their complicated mental worlds, getting an unfiltered view of how each brother sees the world and processes their emotions.
That being said, I did notice a lack of development in certain characters or situations. One thing that bothered many readers was Sylvia’s accident. Reviews commented that the mechanics of the accident and how it impeded Sylvia’s sexual intimacy were central to the story and therefore needed more explanation. I do wish that this had been clarified. The relationship between Sylvia and Peter, whether you believe it was healthy or not, felt deeply rooted in love and care for each other. I felt sympathy not only for Sylvia’s accident but for her resulting struggle to feel lovable afterward.
Still, the lack of explanation could reflect how Peter experiences the event. It could be inferred that this event in Sylvia’s life had a profound impact on him, sending him into a deep depression. Because the story is largely told from his perspective, it makes sense that he avoids revisiting the details of something that caused him so much pain. Rather than centering on Sylvia, Intermezzo exposes Peter’s inability to fully engage with the harsh realities he’s surrounded by.
Similar criticisms arose surrounding Naomi’s abusive relationships, which many readers felt were underdeveloped and handled insensitively. However, this absence may also be intentional. Naomi’s experiences are filtered almost entirely through Peter’s perspective, revealing less about her suffering and more about his detachment. His treatment of Naomi often reflects his arrogance and tendency to reduce women to their influence on his emotional needs, which reinforces the discomfort many readers feel toward his character.
Exploring themes of sex and intimacy without resolution
This ambiguity raises further questions, such as how sex relates to love and intimacy. Readers may interpret this differently depending on their own values. Does the relationship between Peter and Sylvia become strained due to the obstacles of intimacy? Does Peter feel his affection is rejected by her? Is her presence a reminder of his depression?
Furthermore, Rooney’s exploration of these far-reaching questions forces the reader to contemplate what kind of character Peter is. Is he complex for living in his grief and regrets, or is he an objectifying, manipulative man who wrongfully gets to live out personal fantasies through using the women in his life? The novel never gives a clear answer to any of these questions, which tends to frustrate readers.
Another major source of controversy surrounding Intermezzo is its explicit portrayal of sex, with many readers questioning whether these scenes develop relationships or simply exist as gratuitous content. For Peter in particular, sex often feels less like intimacy and more like a means of validation and control. His tendency to objectify women, especially in contrast to his emotionally loaded relationship with Sylvia, raises uncomfortable questions about his understanding of love and worth. Rather than deepening connections, sex in Peter’s narrative exposes his emotional avoidance: when faced with grief, guilt, and depression, physical intimacy becomes something he can control, unlike his inner life. This may explain why his relationships feel uneven or transactional to some readers. However, I don’t believe Rooney includes these scenes merely for shock value. Instead, they underline Peter’s fractured relationship with himself. For his character, desire replaces communication, and sex becomes a stand-in for stability. Whether this succeeds or alienates readers depends on how willing they are to view sex not as romantic fulfillment, but as a coping mechanism that ultimately fails him.
This lack of resolution extends to other aspects of the novel that readers found underdeveloped, such as the reflection of age differences in the relationships and the emotional outcomes for characters like Margaret and Naomi. Do these characters ever come to terms with the power imbalances present in their relationships? Are Margaret or Naomi truly happy, or simply adapting to circumstances they were never given space to fully question? While I view that the relationship between Ivan and Margaret provides much more fulfillment for both parties, we never got to really see her come to terms with the age difference. Rooney does not offer closure, which reinforces the discomfort many readers feel, but also aligns with the novel’s refusal to simplify emotional reality.
Perhaps Intermezzo feels nonsensical to some readers because it refuses to provide these answers. Maybe readers are uncomfortable exploring such emotional ambiguity or frustrated by not being offered a clear moral framework. Instead of guiding the reader toward understanding, Rooney forces them to sit with uncertainty.
Portrayal of Family and Grief
There’s no question that this novel explores extremely intense and complex themes, especially grief. Grief manifests differently for everyone. Family relationships are complicated. Love is rarely linear. Exploring these themes between two extremely different people, it makes sense that the book feels long, fragmented, and messy, because that is how the characters feel.
In relation to the recurring theme of family in the novel, it is important to examine not only the brothers’ relationship but also Ivan himself. Since Ivan is supposed to be the more “relatable” character compared to his brother, there is less controversy surrounding him online. Personally, I found his character development understandable and even satisfying. His painful desire to fit in gradually morphs into a sense of self-acceptance and personal meaning. Some reviews pointed out his misogynistic views and argued that they were never properly addressed. While I agree that this should have been challenged more explicitly, it is also possible that these views stem from his social isolation and misunderstandings rather than deep-rooted hatred. By the end of the novel, particularly through his relationship with Margaret, I did not feel that Ivan continued to view women in a negative light.
The brothers ultimately highlight two contrasting personalities shaped by similar upbringings and shared loss. Despite their emotional differences and polarizing personalities, they remain deeply connected through the lens of brotherhood. Their relationship demonstrates how siblings, especially those far apart in age, can struggle to understand each other while still being bound by loyalty and history. The complexity of brotherly relationships is rarely explored, and Intermezzo offers a nuanced portrayal of how two people can love each other without truly knowing one another.
In the end, the controversy surrounding Intermezzo seems to stem less from what the novel lacks and more from what it refuses to provide. It does not offer clean resolutions, clear moral judgments, or neatly developed explanations for every character’s behavior. Instead, Rooney presents grief, love, sex, and family as complicated and often uncomfortable experiences that resist simplification. For some readers, this ambiguity feels frustrating or even careless. For others, it feels honest. The debates about structure, character development, sensitive subjects, and explicit content ultimately reflect how deeply the novel unsettles its audience. Whether one finds Intermezzo messy or meaningful may depend on one’s tolerance for uncertainty. But perhaps the very fact that it sparks such strong reactions is proof that it succeeds in what it sets out to do: forcing readers to confront emotional complexity without the comfort of easy answers.