Anne Enright's "The Gathering" explores issues of family, love, loss, in the voice of a 38 year old woman, Veronica, reflecting upon the suicide of her brother Liam in a large, modern Irish family. The book is told in a stream of consciousness style as Veronica, while responding to her brother's death and handling the details of retrieving his body from England, reflects upon her life and her family.  Some of her recollections, as Veronica admits in the first sentence of the book, may not be accurate as they are covered over by memory and self-interest. Veronica is thus something of an unreliable narrator, and Enright, the author, remains in the background without explicit comment.

This is a difficult book. The various Amazon reviews are thoughtful and perceptive, from those which rated the book a 5 to those which rated the book a 1. I learned something from many of the reviewers whose perspective on the book differs from mine.  I came away from my reading mostly disliking the book, and the views of many of my fellow reviewers confirmed my response.

"The Gathering" has many poetical moments and beautiful turns of phrase. The narrator, Veronica, appears to make an attempt to be honest with herself.  Thus in the story we hear her views about her own life, her large family, parents, grandparents and siblings, and about her husband and children.  In particular, we hear a great deal about love, desire, and sex and Veronica's views of their interrelationships.  Veronica is bitter and angry.  The author presents her character for what she is to allow the reader to try to understand her.

The poetry and the toughness do not save the book.  Most of what Veronica says is too bitter and too angry to be interesting or insightful.  In fact, a great deal of it is an extreme form of male-bashing which, alas, differs only in degree from much discussion in recent years and which takes no large degree of courage to express.  Veronica is obsessed with male sexuality and lust  -- with the smell of a man, with the grossest details of a man's body parts, and with  a man's sexual activity.  She is angry with the way she feels men approach sex and this anger pervades her book far more than does the death of her brother. Her story is told through the fog of time and much of it remains elliptical.  But through much of the book, the theme appears to be that women are sullied by male sexuality at least in the form in which most men pursue sex. Their characters and feelings do not meet Veronica's expectations and approval.  The story includes long discussions on Veronica's grandmother, Ada, on her questionable early life, and on her relationship with her two suitors.  Veronica is also obsessed with the life of her parents -- and on their large family.  She attributes the large family and its difficulties to her father wanting too much sex with her mother -- as if, Veronica observes, he had a right to sex.  In her own life, Veronica remembers with fondness a Jewish boyfriend from America during her college years.  But she feels little for her husband and finds sex with him repellant in frequency, timing, and quality. He had the sex, she observes archly after one of their times together, I did not. Veronica also resents her husband his career success and her own leaving of the work place to raise her children.  Too much of this comes off as a screed and to much of it as a rehearsal of what have become commonplaces in some quarters. While I appreciated the attempt of the book to be frank and to speak honestly about one's feelings, I didn't think the book achieved these goals. I came away not caring much about Veronica.  And I had too many questions about her responses to her experiences and her insight to find her story compelling.

I was reminded in this book of a recent American novel called, coincidentally enough, "Veronica" by the American writer Mary Gaitskill. This novel, like "The Gathering" is told in a first-person stream of consciousness style. (The narrator is a woman named Allison and the title character is her friend.)  Gaitskill's book is also full of tough reflections on sexuality, derived from Allison's life as a stripper and model. But I found Gaitskill's book, in which the sex is much more lurid than anything in "The Gathering," had the personal voice, the immediacy, and the sense of honesty, that Enright's book aims for but for me failed to achieve.

I struggled with "The Gathering" but couldn't bring myself to like or to recommend it.

Robin Friedman
Anne Enright's "The Gathering" explores issues of family, love, loss, in the voice of a 38 year old woman, Veronica, reflecting upon the suicide of her brother Liam in a large, modern Irish family. The book is told in a stream of consciousness style as Veronica, while responding to her brother's death and handling the details of retrieving his body from England, reflects upon her life and her family. Some of her recollections, as Veronica admits in the first sentence of the book, may not be accurate as they are covered over by memory and self-interest. Veronica is thus something of an unreliable narrator, and Enright, the author, remains in the background without explicit comment. This is a difficult book. The various Amazon reviews are thoughtful and perceptive, from those which rated the book a 5 to those which rated the book a 1. I learned something from many of the reviewers whose perspective on the book differs from mine. I came away from my reading mostly disliking the book, and the views of many of my fellow reviewers confirmed my response. "The Gathering" has many poetical moments and beautiful turns of phrase. The narrator, Veronica, appears to make an attempt to be honest with herself. Thus in the story we hear her views about her own life, her large family, parents, grandparents and siblings, and about her husband and children. In particular, we hear a great deal about love, desire, and sex and Veronica's views of their interrelationships. Veronica is bitter and angry. The author presents her character for what she is to allow the reader to try to understand her. The poetry and the toughness do not save the book. Most of what Veronica says is too bitter and too angry to be interesting or insightful. In fact, a great deal of it is an extreme form of male-bashing which, alas, differs only in degree from much discussion in recent years and which takes no large degree of courage to express. Veronica is obsessed with male sexuality and lust  -- with the smell of a man, with the grossest details of a man's body parts, and with  a man's sexual activity. She is angry with the way she feels men approach sex and this anger pervades her book far more than does the death of her brother. Her story is told through the fog of time and much of it remains elliptical. But through much of the book, the theme appears to be that women are sullied by male sexuality at least in the form in which most men pursue sex. Their characters and feelings do not meet Veronica's expectations and approval. The story includes long discussions on Veronica's grandmother, Ada, on her questionable early life, and on her relationship with her two suitors. Veronica is also obsessed with the life of her parents -- and on their large family. She attributes the large family and its difficulties to her father wanting too much sex with her mother -- as if, Veronica observes, he had a right to sex. In her own life, Veronica remembers with fondness a Jewish boyfriend from America during her college years. But she feels little for her husband and finds sex with him repellant in frequency, timing, and quality. He had the sex, she observes archly after one of their times together, I did not. Veronica also resents her husband his career success and her own leaving of the work place to raise her children. Too much of this comes off as a screed and to much of it as a rehearsal of what have become commonplaces in some quarters. While I appreciated the attempt of the book to be frank and to speak honestly about one's feelings, I didn't think the book achieved these goals. I came away not caring much about Veronica. And I had too many questions about her responses to her experiences and her insight to find her story compelling. I was reminded in this book of a recent American novel called, coincidentally enough, "Veronica" by the American writer Mary Gaitskill. This novel, like "The Gathering" is told in a first-person stream of consciousness style. (The narrator is a woman named Allison and the title character is her friend. )  Gaitskill's book is also full of tough reflections on sexuality, derived from Allison's life as a stripper and model. But I found Gaitskill's book, in which the sex is much more lurid than anything in "The Gathering," had the personal voice, the immediacy, and the sense of honesty, that Enright's book aims for but for me failed to achieve. I struggled with "The Gathering" but couldn't bring myself to like or to recommend it. Robin Friedman