On what would have been his wedding day if he weren’t such a jerk, a man has a depressing evening at home.
This is a beautifully written story that perfectly captures the protagonist’s ennui, regret, and blandness; the boredom and blandness seem to have predated this particular sad evening, and the regret, while real enough, doesn’t appear to have contributed to any real self-reflection or motivation for change, much less growth. Sabine is better off without Cathal.
It’s very much a New Yorker story, with its strong writing, sometimes striking images, solidly middle class characters, and deeply unsatisfying arc. It may be time to let this subscription lapse …