![]() ![]() However understandable the need to address it so directly within the short span of this elseways well-paced story, the vehemence of it was put forward too bluntly in order to provoke a shift in the reader’s sympathy. ![]() ![]() Recapitulating the relationship between Cathal and Sabine, the ugly manifestations of blatant misogyny Keegan exposes made the story less potent to me than if brought somewhat more subtly. Down on the lawns, some people were out sunbathing and there were children, and beds plump with flowers so much of life carrying smoothly on, despite the tangle of human conflicts and the knowledge of how everything must end.įrom the beginning, despite the lovely, almost idyllic evocation of Dublin on a sunny day in high summer, a sense of foreboding suffuses So Late in the Day: no doubt, this will end in tears.įollowing Cathal from his work in the office to his flat and cat in Arklow, Claire Keegan builds up the tension masterfully, feeding the reader tidbits of Cathal’s troubled mind, only dropwise letting the inconvenient truth trickle through, leading up to a painful illustration how one can shoot oneself in the foot and be one’s own worst enemy in love. When a shadow crossed, he looked out: a gulp of swallows skirmishing, high up, in camaraderie. A taste of cut grass blew in, and every now and then a warm breeze played with the ivy on the ledge. ![]()
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