Gathering (Enright)

Book Reviews 
In a word: heavy. Or so you might think. But in this mystery of past causes, the transformative power of Enright's language keeps the story's freight from burdening the reader. Veronica's reminiscences have an incantatory power that makes them not depressing but enthralling—as evocative and unanswerable as the laments of the woman "wailing for her demon-lover" in "Kubla Khan," except that Veronica wails for her demon-brother…In this new novel…Enright hides her painterly brushstrokes. The Gathering still casts fiction's spell, but its detours from reality are surreal, not unreal: nothing happens that could not happen, that has not happened, to somebody. Bringing together the skills she has honed along the way, Enright carries off her illusions without props or dei ex machina, bravely engaging with the carnival horrors of everyday life.
Liesl Schillinger - New York Times

There is something livid and much that is stunning about The Gathering, which deservedly won this year's Man Booker Prize. Anger brushes off every page, a species of rage that aches to confront silence and speak truth at last. The book's narrative tone echoes Joan Didion's furious, cool grief, but the richest comparison may be with James Joyce's Dubliners.... Everything that happens and does not happen here feels painfully and awkwardly true, even the notes of redemption. Enright seems to know the bone structure of the Irish family during its turbulent silence of the 1960s and '70s, when elders were still treated with fearful deference and children were less important than they are now, perhaps because there were so many of them and the houses were so tiny.
Peter Behrens - Washington Post

In the taut latest from Enright (What Are You Like?), middle-aged Veronica Hegarty, the middle child in an Irish-Catholic family of nine, traces the aftermath of a tragedy that has claimed the life of rebellious elder brother Liam. As Veronica travels to London to bring Liam's body back to Dublin, her deep-seated resentment toward her overly passive mother and her dissatisfaction with her husband and children come to the fore. Tempers flare as the family assembles for Liam's wake, and a secret Veronica has concealed since childhood comes to light. Enright skillfully avoids sentimentality as she explores Veronica's past and her complicated relationship with Liam. She also bracingly imagines the life of Veronica's strong-willed grandmother, Ada. A melancholic love and rage bubbles just beneath the surface of this Dublin clan, and Enright explores it unflinchingly.
Publishers Weekly

It seems that large, extended families are brought together for two events, weddings and funerals, and such is the case in Enright's new novel (after The Pleasure of Eliza Lynch) when Veronica, her eight surviving siblings, and their mammy reconnect for her wayward brother Liam's funeral. As Veronica notes early on, "the seeds of my brother's death were sown many years ago," and it is those seeds, which are gradually unearthed as the book moves between past and present, describing the deconstruction of the family, that drove Liam to suicide. From a description of vodka with a "sweet and crotch-like" smell that includes a "waft of earth and adolescence" to souls that, if released, would "slop out over his teeth," Enright's writing is starkly descriptive, using the same coarse imagery that is part of her characters' daily lives. Much is raw in this novel, which is less about individuals than about people's "patience and ability to endure." While readers won't be drawn to the characters, anyone who perseveres will find a story of harsh redemption and of a future found in a child's blue eyes. An acquired taste.
Caroline M. Hallsworth - Library Journal

A lyrical meditation on memory and connectedness involving three generations of an Irish family. In her fourth novel (The Pleasure of Eliza Lynch, 2003, etc.), Enright seamlessly melds past and present, childhood and struggling maturity, death and earthy life, in Veronica Hegarty's looping account of her blood line. Her mother bore 12 children and suffered seven miscarriages, yet it is a single death, of Veronica's troubled older brother Liam, which pulls the narrative together. The discovery of his body in the sea at Brighton (an English resort town) with stones in his pockets triggers a kind of breakdown in Veronica. It ignites a long-brewing crisis in her marriage, and it releases a flood of memories: Liam visiting her after the birth of one of her two daughters; Liam on a childhood trip to the seaside via a visit to a relative in an insane asylum; Liam being sexually abused by Nugent, a friend of their grandparents, Ada and Charlie. Veronica's insomnia after the bereavement leads her to start writing a version of Ada's life, speculating on an affair between Ada and Nugent. Veronica's own sexual history plays a part too, as well as her hunger for "a larger life." Like Ali Smith, Enright is an original. Her poetic, often lovely phrasing and surprising perspectives create a distinctive mood, and her novel subtly links the Hegartys in a chain of damage, regret and finally continuity. A dreamy, melancholy swirl of a story, wise about the bonds and burdens linking children to each other and their grown selves.
Kirkus Reviews