Long Island
The plot may sound like the stuff of soap operas, but Mr. Tóibín is essentially a dramatist of repression ... It’s a tricky thing, producing a novel from a style this muted and undemonstrative ... The confrontations between these people, so long delayed, feel momentous and hugely affecting. These pendant novels, I think, will be the fiction for which this wonderful writer is best remembered.
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The characters in Long Island are constantly cautioning themselves not to say anything, for fear of upsetting that fine balance that exists in intimacy as much as in community. But not saying is an act with consequences, too — one that Tóibín, a master of his art, exploits to exquisite effect at the end, leaving us to wonder, yet again, what’s next.
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Colm Tóibín has an unhurried way of inviting the reader into his fictional world, like a perfect host who spoils you with delicious food and drink but at such a gentle pace you never feel overfed. Quite the opposite: When the feast is over, you are instantly ready to return for more ... Tóibín’s most intriguing stroke is the way he softly steps back from his main character to fully reveal and explore the stories of others ... A stirring journey, but its author does not showily dictate its speed or direction. He creates a heartbreaking world but does not impose it; instead, he parts a curtain and allows time for a slow, intense deepening of the drama behind it.
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