This novel left me sitting on the fence. I have as many things I like about as I don’t, with neither side making a compelling case. The Gathering follows the Hegartys, a large Irish family as they come together to mourn the self inflicted death of their brother, Liam. The story, told through the eyes and memories of Veronica, carries you through the complex emotions of crowded family life and the secrets that shape who we turn out to be.

Anne Enright’s writing is lovely to read. Her writing is beautifully descriptive, honest, poignant and flows well through a book based on internal dialogue. Then every few pages you get slapped in the face with repeated descriptions of genitals and bodily functions. I think the point was to sharpen the corners and add some stark, raw, contrast, but after the shock value wore out it was really just unnecessary and distracting.

I felt the memory laden writing style worked well for a book based around grief, with a romantic, introspective journey through lives lived and choices made. I am trying to decide whether I liked the constant alterations and midirections as Veronica’s memories unfolded. I felt a real sense and depth of the characters, but most of the time their development was based on memories made up, memories imagined ending several ways, and usually no concrete answer as to what actually happened. While it is true that memory is an ephemeral thing that changes and corrodes as time passes, I’m not sure I enjoyed it as it moved the plot along.

What I took away from this book was an interesting insight into the hardships and complications of living in such a large family, how sharing a past with someone can change you, and how grief can cause you to question your choices. (Also how grief can cause you to become a little bit selfish and self distructive.) By the end I took the good parts of this novel with me and left the rest behind.