I was a couple of chapters in before I clocked that this was a sequel to Brooklyn.1 What a slow-motion tragedy for the three central characters (Eilis, Jim, and Karen). Wounded people bringing so much harm through silence and inaction. I thought a lot about Edith Wharton: The House of Mirth, sure, but especially Scorcese’s adaptation of The Age of Innocence. Just a classic case of me tearing through a story, knowing full well that only pain awaits.
I have seen the movie adaptation of that book, but have not read the book itself ↩︎