Droll, careful reflections on Ireland, illness and religion in a welcome collection of essays . . . [the] melancholy elegance of the prose guarantees the reader’s enjoyment

Erudite, forensic, moving and wry . . . the breadth of the collection is impressive: a snapshot of Irish society over decades; Buenos Aires, in the wake of thousands of ‘disappeared’ people; Covid-era Venice . . . a lesson in how the right words in the right order can get to the truth of the matter

[These essays] are always interesting and intelligent, written in an admirably clear prose free of academic jargon . . . journalism at its best. I learned a lot from them and am grateful for that. It’s a collection to which I will surely return, just as I do to Orwell’s, Ian Jack’s, Ferdinand Mount’s and Patrick Marnham’s

A feast for the reader . . . the novelist applies his inquisitive and empathetic mind in wide-ranging series of essays, from the political to the poignant . . . [Toibin] seeks no lessons; he tries only to be good company on the page. (He succeeds.)

Erudite essays from one of the world’s finest writers . . . Throughout, the poetry of Tóibín’s prose is as impressive as always. In [the] title piece, he writes that his mother was ‘what most of us still write for: the ordinary reader, curious and intelligent and demanding, ready to be moved and changed.’ Readers like her will savor every page of this book

The clarity of the novelist’s descriptive ability shines through essays on topics ranging from his treatment for cancer to the joys of an empty Venice . . . On every subject, Tóibín’s writing is what people these days inevitably describe as nuanced, a word that has become a kind of shorthand for expressing a person’s rare ability to understand . . . the foibles of others

I love everything Colm Tóibín has written

I wanted to read out loud, to fully savour writing that is so careful and so lyrical

Reading Irish novelist, playwright and poet Colm Tóibín is always a delight

Both epic and intimate . . . a moving portrait of three generations of sprawling, loving, fractious family life . . . a triumph