Colm Tóibín writes what could be called emotional thrillers, so swift and intimate that you can’t stop reading, even though the only mysteries they’re investigating have to do with loneliness and loss. His celebrated novels take many different forms—plunging us into the predicament of a young Irish woman torn between two homes and loves (Brooklyn and Long Island), reimagining with visceral power the stories of Agamemnon (House of Names) and the Virgin Mary (The Testament of Mary), stealthily exploring the secret lives of Henry James (The Master) and Thomas Mann (The Magician). But, always, they cast an intense and unwavering spell as we try to see whether these characters will ever be found—or found out.
The same is no less true of his short stories: the central figures in his new collection (his third, this one consisting of eight stories and a novella) are generally alone, often far from home and cut off from others by all they cannot say. Tóibín helps us live inside them with an emotional intelligence that’s uncanny.
