Between aggressive marketing and a pop icon aura, Sally Rooney has become the literary symbol of a generation. A Review of Intermezzo, her Fourth Novel
The Taylor Swift of Literature Aspiring to Be Elena Ferrante – A Review of Intermezzo, Sally Rooney’s Fourth Novel
Referring to Sally Rooney as the “Taylor Swift of literature” is not a compliment without a hint of irony. Just as Swift dominates the pop music scene with catchy tunes and lyrics that resonate deeply with her fans, Rooney seems to have cracked the code for narrating the complexities of modern relationships, sprinkled with intellectual references and a dash of Marxism here and there. But where Swift doesn’t aspire to be Ferrante, Rooney’s ambition takes a leap. While Ferrante carved her place in the collective imagination through narrative mastery and physical invisibility, Rooney walks a fine line between rejecting mainstream culture and embracing celebrity status.
Despite her professed distance from social media and the capitalist publishing machine, her books have become central to an unstoppable media circus: exclusive launch events, branded merchandise, and an unprecedented marketing campaign.
In the case of Intermezzo, Rooney’s fourth and final novel (released in English on September 24 and available in Italy starting November 12), the promotional efforts reached almost grotesque proportions. In the United States, publisher Farrar, Straus and Giroux distributed 2,500 signed and numbered copies to influencers, celebrities, and avid readers (with actress Ayo Edebiri, singer Lorde, and filmmaker Noah Baumbach all vying for a copy). Branded merchandise—from tote bags featuring the book’s greyhound emblem to t-shirts—has become a staple of the “Rooney-verse.” Some critics argue that this branded paratext risks overshadowing the literary value of her work.
Intermezzo: A Complex Novel About Relationships Yet to Come or a Mere Exercise in Style?
The release of Intermezzo has cemented the Irish writer’s position as one of the most discussed and polarizing voices in contemporary literature. In Italy, the book topped Feltrinelli’s bestseller list during the week of November 11–17. Surprisingly, not only did the Italian edition soar to the top, but so did the original English version, a sign of an increasingly multilingual audience afflicted by FOMO (Fear of Missing Out).
Rooney steps away from romantic love—the centerpiece of her previous novels—to explore the bond between two brothers. Protagonists Peter and Ivan must redefine their lives following their father’s death. Amid new relationships and old fractures, the book attempts to reflect on the interlude as an existential metaphor.
While official criticism describes it as Rooney’s most ambitious novel, many readers wonder if this ambition is merely an exercise in self-indulgence. Her characters are melancholic, intelligent, perpetually dissatisfied, and their depth often feels more like intellectual posturing than authentic portrayal. As always, Rooney operates within a white, affluent, educated milieu, leaving her narrative Marxism as more of a theoretical concept than an urgent concern.
The intent is clear: to narrate the “vast potential of every life,” as the synopsis suggests. Yet the risk of falling into a self-referential stylistic exercise looms large, and many wonder if this evolution is merely an attempt to demonstrate narrative maturity without truly achieving it.
Sally Rooney: Beyond Romance, Is There More?
Defining Sally Rooney’s literary production within a genre is challenging. Conversations with Friends, Normal People, and Beautiful World, Where Are You? have been labeled “literary romances,” but the term doesn’t fully capture her writing. Her novels revolve around complex relationships and friendships, but they transcend the clichés of romance through stylistic and narrative quality.
Critics, however, abound. Many detractors find her plots repetitive and unoriginal: melancholic, privileged, intellectually ambitious youths navigating difficult loves, class disparities, existential precarity, and epistolary exchanges dripping with reflections on art, politics, and life. For many, empathizing with the existential dramas of her characters—who vacillate between the meaninglessness of life and the difficulty of choosing between a monogamous or open relationship—is a stretch.
In Conversations with Friends, the protagonist embarks on a relationship with a married man. In Normal People, Marianne and Connor endure a tumultuous love affair spanning adolescence and university. Even in Beautiful World, Where Are You?, the formula remains: four characters, including a Rooney alter ego, navigate epistolary correspondence and personal crises. For fans who see Rooney as the voice of a generation, these stories are a strength. For critics, they are a limitation, set in an insular, overly homogeneous, and intellectually rarefied world.
The frequent comparisons to Jane Austen are telling. Like Austen, Rooney explores her time through the social dynamics and emotions of her characters in a dialogue-driven structure. But while Austen mastered satire and subtext, Rooney often seems to settle for a surface-level analysis of her characters, sometimes taking herself too seriously.
The Marketing Machine: “Rooney-verse” and the Power of Branding
It’s impossible to ignore the weight of marketing. The queues outside bookstores, branded t-shirts and tote bags, Instagram and TikTok posts—all contribute to a narrative in which the book becomes more of a cult object than a work to be read. The campaign for Intermezzo was colossal.
Bookstores like Waterstones opened early to welcome fans eager to grab first editions. In the U.S., the distribution of preview copies generated unparalleled frenzy. How much of the hype around Rooney is genuine, and how much is constructed? The Guardian aptly noted that it’s unclear whether the phenomenon is the novel or the marketing.
There’s undeniable irony in a self-proclaimed Marxist writer becoming the face of a well-oiled capitalist machine. With over 400,000 copies sold in Italy alone, Rooney has undoubtedly left her mark on this decade’s publishing landscape. Yet her success leaves an ambiguous aftertaste. On one hand, she’s a writer with a distinctive style and the ability to articulate her generation’s unease. On the other, she’s emblematic of a literature increasingly packaged to be sold, photographed, and shared.
Despite the criticism, Rooney continues to defy expectations, so far refusing to sell the TV rights for Intermezzo and Beautiful World, Where Are You? while maintaining a low public profile. The question remains: Will her writing survive the noise? Or will her name be remembered more for the media frenzy than for literary merit?
Sally Rooney is as much a product of her time as she is a writer with genuine ambitions. Her ability to polarize audiences, spark debate, and embody her generation’s contradictions is undeniable. Perhaps the true interlude isn’t her characters’ but her own: between success and authenticity, fame and literature.