it’s funny how reluctant i was to ever read a sally rooney novel. it felt a boring, unoriginal choice. and now, finishing book 3 of 4, i fear reaching the end of this limited supply. i savor in each book: its clarity; a distinct voice creating an awareness of being in conversation with a specific mind; a closeness and simplicity that locks you into the moment. this book is easy, yet full of big ideas. examinations of art, capitalism, existentialism, power, life upon a crumbling earth. good sex as usual. an abundance of stifled emotional intimacy. the heap of things left unsaid between people who love or hate each other in rooney’s stories becomes wont, but it is an excellent tool to get a reader to feel genuine angst and frustration alongside the characters. with all the love i have for this book, i also agree with every criticism (expect everyone’s annoyance at the absence of quotation marks) the narration is painfully detailed, mechanical descriptions like a screenplay. one of the four main characters is awful, simply awful. oh, but he loves his dog! there is an unnecessary focus on the thin white body. there is no plot. everyone is awkward. and maybe it’s self-indulgent, but i think rooney is allowed to use a fictional person as a vessel to deliver us her personal woes. the emails obviously also serve as an outlet for her own observations and opinions. i find them fascinating. this is where the characters relate to the world, as the rest of the book is highly concerned with the immediate setting. their correspondence brilliantly provides depth and portrays affection in the girls’ friendship. while the style of writing and thinking is jarringly different from the main narration, you get to see their minds’ robust inner workings in juxtaposition to their otherwise self-conscious, destructive ways. overall there is an undeniable charm throughout this book, enigmatic as it is.