I’m currently reading a Paul Howard novel — he’s done a whole series about his alter ego Ross O-Carroll-Kelly, who is a 29-y-o southside Dubliner (ie. posh) — called the ‘Oh My God Delusion’, which is all about Ross grappling with the collapse of the economy. It is laugh out loud funny — but so spot-on. He gets conned into buying an apartment on a ghost estate, thinking that the rest of the apartments are going to be acquired by UCD for student accommodation (he can’t wait for the parties!) but alas, after having moved in, finds social services are using the entire estate to house people on welfare. Meanwhile he’s got himself a sort of job helping his mate repossess people’s flatscreen TVs, jacuzzis and the like when they default on the payments. The book is a comedy, but, as the saying goes, there’s many a true word spoken in jest.

I very much like the way the Enright uses it here. She details consequences both pre- and post-extinction, rather than trying to explain the phenomenon herself. Other commentors here have sung the praises of her prose (and I certainly don’t dispute them), but for me this aspect added another very important element to the novel, one that was not present in The Gathering.

I think there was a marked failure by Irish writers to address the phenomenon of the Celtic Tiger (pre-extinction), so this book could be a start at filling that gap.

I didn’t particularly like either Gina or Sean, but I was impressed with the way that Enright gradually made them whole — I went from being a bit frustrated with them to appreciating the troubles that they were in and their inability to cope with them. It became almost melancholic — and as I noted in the review, the reality of that state particularly impressed me.

I found it a much easier, more enjoyable read than The Gathering, and while I did not particularly like Gina or Sean, I understood them and their weaknesses. I found it interesting that Gina was compelled to have an affair, because from what I could see her marriage was fine — she loved her husband, they still had sex, they had a nice house. Surely it couldn’t have been just boredom?

I love her use of language so much that for me, the plot almost doesn’t matter. It’s so rare these days, I think, to find an author who cares about language more than plot.

I hope you don’t mind me pointing out that apart from the first mention of Evie’s name, you misspell it as Edie throughout the rest of your review.