Irish writer Colm Tóibín‘s 2009 gem, Brooklyn, told of Eilis Lacey who immigrates to New York as a penniless young Irishwoman, struggles and survives, falls in love with young Italian Tony but then is drawn back to Ireland by a tragedy and there faces wrenching choices. The unexpected new follow-up, Long Island, set in 1976, sees Eilis residing in Long Islands, married to Tony and surrounded by Tony’s wider family, with two teenage children. One day her world is rent asunder when an Irish stranger comes to her door, telling her his wife will soon bear Tony’s child and that he will deposit the child with Eilis. The author is a master of understated fireworks and this plot starter kicks in at the very start of Long Island, and I dare any reader not to be swept in immediately and then transported. Eilis’s response sends her back to Ireland and the resulting tale of loves, regrets, and decisions is told from her point of view and that of pub owner Jimmy and his secret paramour Nancy. The author never wastes a word on unnecessary details and immerses the reader in the inner turmoils of these three, in a quiet, gently rhythmic cadence that mesmerises. The tension toward the end is nigh unbearable. If Long Island does not end up being my favorite novel of 2024, something remarkable indeed will need to soon reach my bookshelf.
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