Grief, Generations, and Gender: The Emotional Chess of Sally Rooney’s Intermezzo
By Carmen Gray
Sally Rooney is an Irish author renowned for her unique exploration of relationships and identity. Intermezzo follows her three critically acclaimed novels, most notably Normal People. In chess, an ‘intermezzo’ refers to a surprising move that disrupts the opponent’s strategy. This concept mirrors the novel’s central theme — the impact of grief on our life, and how it alters our life strategy, perspectives, and actions.
The novel follows two brothers, Peter and Ivan, as they navigate life in Dublin after their father’s death. Peter — a human rights lawyer — juggles relationships with his former college sweetheart, Sylvia, and a 22-year-old student, Naomi. Ivan, meanwhile, begins dating Margaret, a 36-year-old divorcée. Through the lens of grief, Rooney explores the tensions between Gen Z and millennials, particularly in how men process emotions and relationships.
The novel alternates between Peter and Ivan’s perspectives. Peter’s thoughts are blunt and pragmatic, embodying a ‘soldier on’ mentality. His silent struggle with pill addiction and suicidal ideation feels realistic, and offers an important insight into the higher rates of suicide in men and how this can go unnoticed. Ivan, in contrast, is introspective, overthinking even simple decisions. His anxieties: climate change, political disenfranchisement, and digital isolation-paint a picture of the cynicism often seen in Gen Z. Unafraid to casually engage with topics such as porn, digital isolation, and anti-feminism, Rooney is able to paint a strikingly familiar portrait of the loneliness often reported in this generation of men. The generational clash between the two is clearly demonstrated through their inner monologues.
I found the portrayal of grief—particularly Ivan’s—to be familiar yet intriguing, and a testament to Rooney’s ability to understand the psyche of the opposite gender and the modern struggles they face. However, in my opinion, the novel fails its female characters.
Rooney has been scrutinised for her writing on female characters in previous novels. Normal People and Conversations with Friends feature female protagonists who are vulnerable to the men in their lives, yet these dynamics are framed as social commentary on gendered power imbalances. By centring her past novels centre on male-female relationships, Rooney’s exploration of these themes felt intentional.
Intermezzo, however, lacks this depth. The novel’s core focus is male grief, how it intersects with self-hatred, addiction, and family tensions and while the women are integral to the story, they are secondary to the men’s emotional journeys. The three female characters primarily serve as emotional and sometimes physical crutches for the brothers’ grief. While this might be a realistic portrayal of masculine behaviour, Rooney fails to provide a realistic framework for this to be fully fleshed out.
Most troubling is Peter’s relationship with Naomi. Despite his love for Sylvia, chronic illness has left her unable to have a physical relationship, and Peter is encouraged to explore other relationships. Naomi becomes his form of sexual gratification, whilst Sylvia remains his emotional crutch. While this dynamic is unpleasant, it is well written and likely accurate for this type of age-gap relationship. What follows – not so much. Peter’s inability to choose between the physical and the emotional gratification he gains ends in a pseudo-polyamorous arrangement where both women accommodate him, and their jealousy vanishes in pursuit of his well-being.
This ending felt near satirical, yet not quite satirical enough to laugh. If Rooney was attempting social commentary here, it falls flat. Peter’s objectification of Naomi, low-grade violence towards the women (and men) in the novel, and overfocus on sex is treated as secondary to his grief. Taken at face value, the novel essentially suggests that if a man is struggling, he may use as many women as he feels he needs. It also manages to suggest that women, like Naomi and Sylvia, somehow like this role, as they come to terms with their jealousy in order to best serve Peter.
This distinguishes Intermezzo from her other novels. Rather than critically examining how men mistreat women, the novel casually mentions that this happens — and that women will endure and bizarrely enjoy it without consequence.
Ultimately, in a novel about grief and generational clash, Rooney succeeds. Her insights into how relationships evolve through loss are nuanced and compelling. The deeply developed male perspectives—especially compared to her previous works—are refreshing, and the male characters often elicit genuine sympathy from the reader. However, Rooney’s attempt at a gendered social critique falls short. The novel never fully engages with the deeper complexities of the issue, ultimately leaving its female characters as pawns in a man’s game of grieving chess.
