Enjoyable enough, but I don't have time to finish this right now.

I liked reading Separate Rooms, but I find it difficult to explain exactly why I liked it. It has a certain ineffable quality that makes it very readable, despite having a rather plodding pace and tone. The same goes for the characters: they all kind of seem like awful (or at least unlikeable) people, and yet I find them compelling.

It is atmospheric; the writing has an almost dreamlike quality, which is emphasized by the non-linear approach. There is a heavy focus on protagonist's Leo's inner world - at times his musings are pretentious or dull, but sometimes they really shine. And there is also something poignant and deeply sad about how the spectre of HIV/AIDS hangs over the entire book (which is, after all, about gay men in the 1980s), but how this is never explicitly named.

This is a beautifully written and translated text, but I found it challenging to finish due to the nonlinear writing style and the sometimes dense nature of Leo’s inner monologue. While the emotional intensity of Leo’s recollections with Thomas was palpable, the more philosophical sections lost my attention.

At certain points it was also difficult to discern the timeline within the narrative, as the book is divided into only three distinct sections. Page breaks are used instead of formal chapters that abruptly transition from the current timeline to a time in Leo’s past. (The e-arc format of the document didn't help.)

Although this book didn’t particularly resonate with me, I believe it was a good read and would be a suitable fit for certain readers.

I enjoyed Separate Rooms more than expected. Tondelli's deceptively rhythmic writing is given a worthy translation by Pleasance, where the atmosphere and rumination are retained. One of the novel's most interesting aspects, in my opinion, is how Leo's constant, seemingly adventurous moves within Europe and to America are juxtaposed with his muted inner reflection and struggles, achieving an almost impossible balance. Though there are periodic rambles and the first two parts flounder a little, everything culminates beautifully - albeit melancholically - in the titular third part, where Leo's musings ring surprisingly, deeply true, a feat quite amazing to me, to see my personal thoughts paralleled in a character written in the late 80s.

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐ ½
Genre: Classic + Literary Fiction + LGBTQ+

Separate Rooms is a 1980s queer Italian classic novel that has been translated into the English language. It follows Leo, a man in his thirties, mourning the death of his lover. Leo is a writer who has been deeply in love with Thomas, a young German musician. The story highlights their relationship and how their careers affected their passionate bond.

The story is narrated from Leo’s perspective in a nonlinear style. Through his narration, we get to feel the isolation that Leo has been going through and the struggles and obstacles that affected his relationship with his lover.

The novel is about love, loss, grief, identity, isolation, and memory. With the melancholic and poetic prose, the author successfully turned this story into a tale of heavy loss and emotional depth. The representation of gay characters here is very authentic and will resonate with many readers.

Due to the lack of plot progression, I feel this story won’t be the cup of tea of every reader. The story doesn’t have what one calls dramatic events or even a clearly defined resolution. I was not a fan of the constant jumps between past and present. I feel a linear approach would’ve served the book a lot better. Regardless of these drawbacks, I still think this is a fascinating read that you should give a try.

Many thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for providing me with the ARC of this book. 

[PRE-RELEASE REVIEW - VIA NETGALLEY] This was tough for me to get into and I don’t feel like I was necessarily in the mind set to be reading this to be honest. I was hoping for a plot, but it’s more of a philosophical dive into life, death, and identity. The characters’ introspections and reflections on existence took the front seat, leaving me wanting more action.