They say you can never go back. And yet, here we are—tracing the steps of Eilis Lacey, nearly two decades after her story first swept us off our feet in Brooklyn. Twenty years later, she’s no longer the wide-eyed girl navigating the promises (and heartbreaks) of America. She’s a wife, a mother, tucked into the folds of Long Island suburbia. But life, as it turns out, is rarely so neatly wrapped. The discovery of her husband’s affair detonates the quiet harmony she’s built, forcing her to confront both the betrayals of others and, perhaps trickier still, her own shifting sense of self.
Long Island is not just a sequel but a confrontation—with lingering what-ifs, the passage of time, and the ever-complicated dance of duty and desire. Tóibín invites us to linger alongside Eilis as she revisits her hometown, long buried under layers of memory and distance, and to sit with the weight of her choices, both old and new. It’s a story steeped in longing and regret, but also one that quietly reminds us: even when we think we’re running from the past, it has a way of catching up. And maybe, just maybe, that’s where the real story begins.
Table of Contents
Overview of the Eilis Lacey Series
Eilis Lacey is no stranger to us—she’s the quiet storm of Colm Tóibín’s literary world, first introduced to readers in Brooklyn. Her journey isn’t explosive or loud, but it creeps into your heart until you realize she’s a reflection of many of us: ambitious but cautious, loyal yet searching, torn between what’s expected and what’s desired. In this section, we’ll revisit her story, first through the original novel and then into its sequel, Long Island. Buckle up—because even a life that appears steady contains quakes beneath the surface.
Brooklyn: Eilis’s Original Journey
Back in 2009, Colm Tóibín handed us Brooklyn, a quiet powerhouse of a novel that paints the life of a young Irish woman in the 1950s. Eilis Lacey is coaxed out of the comfort of her small-town life in Enniscorthy, Ireland, by the promise of opportunity in New York. With a suitcase in hand and her older sister Rose paving the way, Eilis sets sail for America. But it’s a journey that’s bigger than the ticket—it’s a venture into identity, independence, and homesickness that settles like a fog you can’t quite shake.
In Brooklyn, Eilis confronts homesickness almost as if it’s a living entity. She grapples with the overwhelming newness of everything—skyscrapers standing like guardians, streets buzzing with life, and a sensation that she’s not just far from home but untethered, floating in unfamiliar currents. A job at a department store and evening bookkeeping classes establish some rhythm, but life refuses to remain simple. Her romance with Tony, a kind Italian-American plumber, pulls her into New York’s orbit. But when a family tragedy calls her back to Ireland, Eilis is once again suspended between two lives: the one she’s built for herself in America and the one that calls her home.
The novel is a testament to longing—not just for a place, but for a version of yourself that feels easy, uncomplicated. Its undercurrent of self-discovery, paired with the aching questions of loyalty and love, continues to resonate with readers. Tóibín masterfully captured the sharp edges of farewells and the soft ache of wondering if you’ll ever truly belong anywhere. For a more comprehensive overview, check out this insightful summary about Brooklyn.
Introducing Long Island, the Sequel
Fast forward to 2024, Tóibín offers us another chapter in Eilis’s life with Long Island. This is no casual continuation—it’s a deeper dive into the complexities of adulthood, where decisions ripple out in consequences that are often unseen until they crash into view. The sequel leaps ahead two decades, dropping us into Eilis’s life as a wife and mother trying to balance love, responsibility, and her own desires. But oh, life loves its curveballs, doesn’t it?
Eilis has settled in the suburbs of Long Island—a world where lawns are manicured, and facades often hide the chaos brewing within. The shattering revelation of her husband’s affair throws her carefully crafted life into disarray. Suddenly, she isn’t just a mother or a wife; she’s a woman grappling with betrayal and her own strength. Can she hold onto her family? But maybe the bigger, scarier question is whether she even wants to.
This installment takes the themes from Brooklyn and stretches them further. It explores not just identity, but reinvention; not just love, but the ways it can fracture. Eilis walks the fine line between tradition and self-assertion, duty and self-fulfillment. Tóibín doesn’t tie things up neatly, and that’s part of what makes Long Island so poignant—it feels as messy and unresolved as real life. If you’re curious about where Eilis’s story goes, you can find more details about the sequel here.
Through Eilis, Tóibín asks us to confront our own unresolved threads. How much of our identity is shaped by others, and how much by the quiet (often terrifying) choices we make alone? Stay tuned—this journey is far from over.
The Plot and Themes of Long Island
The sequel in the Eilis Lacey series, Long Island, continues Eilis’s journey in ways that both break your heart and challenge your expectations. While life on Long Island appears postcard-perfect from the outside, cracks in the foundation are impossible to ignore. Tóibín doesn’t shy away from showing us just how complex, messy, and unfair life can be, especially when betrayal cuts deep or when our roots feel more tangled than grounded. The novel doesn’t just tell a story; it immerses us in themes of identity, resilience, and the unavoidable pull of the past. Let’s take a closer look at the events and emotions driving this rich narrative.
A Crisis That Changes Everything
What do you do when the life you’ve painstakingly built suddenly implodes? For Eilis, the catalyst is her husband Tony’s affair. It’s not just the betrayal itself—it’s the shockwaves that ripple through her identity, her marriage, and her family. Tony isn’t just unfaithful; he fathers a child with another woman. The sheer weight of that revelation pushes Eilis into emotional freefall, where survival isn’t a choice—it’s the only option.
The fallout doesn’t just expose cracks in her relationship; it challenges the version of herself she thought she knew. Is she still the same Eilis who stoically navigated her way through Brooklyn’s hustle all those years ago? Or is she now someone who refuses to quietly endure? Emotional resilience takes center stage as she confronts the gut-wrenching task of deciding whether to stay, leave, or rebuild on the same broken foundations.
The affair acts as a prism through which other themes refract—loyalty, dignity, motherhood—forcing Eilis into hard choices no marriage counselor could prepare her for. Ultimately, her journey feels less like a clean resolution and more like stumbling through the wilderness. In Tony’s betrayal, Tóibín masterfully sparks a dialogue about forgiveness and empowerment. It’s a reminder that betrayal doesn’t just test your strength—it redefines it. For additional insights into the book’s emotional depth, check out this in-depth review.
Cultural and Emotional Divides
Where do you belong when two worlds have equal claims on your heart? That’s the question haunting Eilis as she navigates Long Island’s manicured suburbs while contending with Ireland’s ghostly pull. Decades after leaving her hometown, Eilis returns to Enniscorthy—not as a visitor but as someone confronting her roots. It’s not just geography; it’s a collision of memory, culture, and identity. And let’s be honest—returning to your past never feels like sliding into an old glove. More often than not, it’s like wearing shoes two sizes too small.
The cultural contrasts couldn’t be starker. On Long Island, life revolves around PTA meetings, lawn ornaments, and the quiet suffocation of suburbia. In Ireland, things run deeper—there’s the unspoken weight of community expectations, of the people who knew you before you were “you,” of roots that dig into your soul whether you like it or not. For Eilis, the trip is less about nostalgia and more about recalibrating who she is when stripped of the roles she’s played: wife, mother, suburban homemaker.
Emotionally, Eilis is divided between the present and the past. She can’t ignore the wistful simplicity of her life in Ireland, nor the ache of a home she outgrew. At the same time, she feels the suffocating pressure to “make it work” in America. This split personality of sorts—stretched between two continents, two cultures, two versions of identity—makes Eilis one of Tóibín’s most profoundly human characters. For a more detailed analysis of how these divides play a crucial role in her story, visit this thoughtful review.
Eilis’s struggle resonates because, let’s face it, most of us have felt the weight of “what could have been.” Tóibín makes readers ask: Do the places we leave behind ever really leave us? And when we return, are we chasing closure…or complicating it?
Character Development in Long Island
The beauty of Long Island lies in its characters—messy, evolving, achingly human. At its core, the novel is a portrait of choices and consequences, told through prisms of love, betrayal, and self-discovery. As we return to Eilis Lacey, the protagonist who once captured our hearts in Brooklyn, along with familiar secondary characters Jim Farrell and Nancy, we are reminded that growth is rarely linear, and redemption is often complicated.
Eilis Lacey: A Flawed and Complex Protagonist
Eilis Lacey’s journey in Long Island isn’t framed as triumphant, nor is it bleak—it’s uncomfortably real. The once-idealistic young immigrant navigating the streets of Brooklyn has been replaced by a woman shouldering the weight of decades of choices. In this sequel, we watch her confront her deepest fears and desires.
Eilis’s personal growth since Brooklyn unfolds subtly but unmistakably. While she may appear outwardly composed, she’s anything but tranquil inside. Her husband’s betrayal unravels not just her trust, but also her understanding of herself. Is she the dutiful wife, the resilient mother, or, more radically, someone entirely her own? Betrayal ignites a kind of awakening for Eilis. It forces her to assess whether forgiveness is a duty she owes her family or a cage she’s being pressured to accept. A woman of quiet strength, she teeters between the pull of reconciliation and the possibility of carving out a new path.
Her struggles with autonomy echo themes from Brooklyn, but this time they are louder, sharper, and more urgent. Tóibín doesn’t sanitize her reactions. Eilis is irritable, confused, and sometimes selfish—a refreshing depiction of what happens when someone is pushed to their limits. For the reader, this imperfection is precisely what makes her relatable. Wanting to preserve her family while also yearning for freedom becomes her tightrope walk. More insights into Eilis’s character complexities can be found in thoughtful reviews, including this analysis of her emotional intricacies.
Eilis’s return to Ireland adds another layer to her development. The act of going home stirs memories long buried, pulling at dormant threads of identity. She isn’t just returning to a place; she’s confronting a version of herself that feels almost ghostlike. Back in Enniscorthy, questions arise: Who is she without her role as a wife? As a mother? And more importantly, who is she to herself? The old Eilis might have avoided these questions, but Long Island shows that growth often comes with unsettling clarity. More on this theme is discussed in this character breakdown.
Revisiting Jim Farrell and Nancy
Secondary characters rarely steal the show in Tóibín’s novels, but they often function as quiet but powerful counterweights to the lead. In Long Island, Jim Farrell and Nancy play pivotal roles in reflecting Eilis’s internal and external conflicts. Their reintroduction, years after Brooklyn, provides a nostalgic yet tension-filled dynamic.
Jim Farrell, Eilis’s old flame, emerges not just as a symbol of “what could have been” but as a living, breathing reminder of the road not taken. His life, both ordinary and fulfilled in Ireland, starkly contrasts with Eilis’s messy, complicated journey across the Atlantic. Jim represents stability—something she wanted decades ago but left behind for the unknown promise of Brooklyn. And still, his appearance is less about romance and more about reckoning. It forces her to revisit how their past choices—his rejection, her departure—shaped trajectories they couldn’t have predicted. Jim’s enduring kindness cuts through the emotional fog, offering Eilis a fleeting sense of what an alternate life might have looked like.
Nancy, Eilis’s childhood best friend, brings an equally complex perspective to the narrative. Simultaneously warm and judgmental, Nancy appears as rooted in Enniscorthy as ever. Her sharp observations, woven with hints of admiration and envy, highlight the distance between the life Eilis left behind and her current complexities. Nancy serves as a barometer for how Eilis’s decision to leave Ireland is viewed by those she left behind. It’s not just about physical distance; it’s also about how the passage of time creates moral divides between people. For deeper character analysis, including Nancy’s impact on major themes, this insight offers additional depth.
Yet, both Jim and Nancy aren’t just measuring sticks for Eilis. They have their own emotional arcs, subtly intertwined with hers. Jim’s reflective moments suggest wounds never fully healed, and Nancy’s comments often carry the weight of suppressed desires or regrets. Together, they anchor Eilis’s visit to Ireland, serving not only as characters but also as mirrors, amplifying themes of identity, regret, and belonging.
In Long Island, character development doesn’t operate in isolation. Every interaction, every memory revisited, builds upon a world where emotions are messy but always authentic. For readers following the Long Island Eilis Lacey series, these connections offer a rich tapestry of feelings and perspectives—proof that our relationships, no matter how fleeting, are never truly left behind. Feel free to dive further into how these characters shape the novel with analyses like this reflective blog on Long Island.
Critical Reception and Tóibín’s Narrative Style
The release of Long Island, the much-anticipated sequel to Brooklyn, has sparked waves in the literary world. Many readers have cherished their connections to Eilis Lacey, and critics have equally weighed in on how Tóibín’s storytelling has evolved—or stayed true to its roots. To understand the depths and nuances of this new chapter, we need to unpack both the critical response and the craftsmanship behind Colm Tóibín’s approach.
The Critical Response to Long Island
Long Island landed on shelves to a chorus of mixed but impassioned reviews. Critics largely praised Tóibín’s ability to delve into the emotional intricacies of Eilis’s life while also debating whether the sequel could ever live up to the literary brilliance of its predecessor, Brooklyn. The comparison to Brooklyn is unavoidable, with many reviewers noting that although it retains Tóibín’s characteristic subtlety, Long Island takes on a faster pace and broader scope, adding layers of complexity to both plot and character.
But how does Long Island stand among readers and critics alike? According to the New York Times, the sequel is “busy”-–a story that buzzes with emotional fervor but sacrifices some of the contemplative beauty that made Brooklyn so poignant. Meanwhile, Book Marks captures a broader reception, reporting favorable overall reviews while highlighting diverging views over the book’s faster tempo and heavier reliance on plot mechanics.
Interestingly, some see Long Island as a natural evolution. Where Brooklyn enchanted readers with its restrained storytelling, Long Island breaks that mold. For some critics, this shift marks growth in Tóibín’s technical storytelling, while others argue it detracts from his trademark simplicity. Reviews like those from The TLS and The Washington Post have agreed on one point: This installment reflects a new dimension of Eilis Lacey, showing her farther along the emotional spectrum.
The sequel’s more pronounced focus on conflict, including a raw depiction of betrayal and motherhood struggles, broadened its emotional tapestry. This makes Long Island a story not so much about resolution but about grappling with the permanence—or impermanence—of decisions. As the Chicago Review of Books eloquently puts it, this novel “snaps and bends under the weight of complicated truths.” In short, while Long Island may not tug at quiet spaces like Brooklyn did, it compels readers to grapple with its louder, messier narrative choices.
Tóibín’s Signature Storytelling Techniques
Colm Tóibín’s prose has long been celebrated for its restraint and thoughtfulness, and Long Island is no exception, even as it takes more narrative risks. If Tóibín’s novels were a painting, Brooklyn would be a watercolor—a wash of soft tones that subtly seep into one another. By contrast, Long Island feels more like an oil painting—bold in strokes, textured in detail, yet still layered with emotional complexity.
Readers of Tóibín have come to expect a certain understatement, a quiet confidence in his storytelling. His gift lies in what he leaves unsaid. In Long Island, subtle looks, unfinished sentences, and sharp silences cut as deeply as any grand gesture. As noted in this critical piece on his narrative style, The New Yorker highlights how his prose thrives on economical gestures—never overwrought, always controlled.
A hallmark of Tóibín’s writing is his ability to create characters that feel simultaneously universal and deeply personal. With Eilis Lacey, he strips back overt sentimentality, allowing raw emotional truths to bubble to the surface only when the reader least expects it. Tóibín doesn’t thrust you into the emotional storm; he lets the storm find you. His use of restraint isn’t just an aesthetic—it’s a choice to let readers feel rather than to simply observe.
Moreover, Tóibín’s storytelling in Long Island is marked by emotional ambiguity. We never get clean resolutions because, let’s face it, life rarely offers them. Does Eilis forgive her husband? Does she ultimately belong in America or Ireland? Instead of neat answers, Tóibín provides threads for readers to untangle themselves, trusting their capacity to grapple with life’s inevitable murkiness.
Then there’s his astonishing psychological realism. Like a master sculptor working with clay, Tóibín digs into the emotional core of his characters, shaping them into beings so textured that they almost feel tangible. In Long Island, Eilis’s internal turmoil following her husband’s affair unfolds like layers of sediment—compacted by years of pressure, revealing new colors as it fractures. Critics like Paulette Alden rightly credit Tóibín for pushing past surface conflicts, reaching into the depths of familial love, fractured trust, and self-preservation.
Finally, Tóibín’s ability to anchor extraordinary emotional weight in ordinary settings is unmatched. A kitchen table, a car ride through suburbia, even a glance exchanged in a hallway—these become stages for profoundly human moments. The everyday becomes the extraordinary in his hands. And although his endings often feel unresolved, they resonate precisely because they mirror the uncertainties we carry in our own lives. As a recent review in Rohan Maitzen aptly concludes, Tóibín invites us to live alongside his characters—to share their burdens and, ultimately, imagine our own paths forward.
Tóibín’s Long Island is, at its heart, a story of fractured identities. It’s not polished to an easy gloss, but it isn’t meant to be. Instead, it asks us to confront the parts of ourselves we’d rather leave behind. Because in the messiness of Eilis’s world, we begin to recognize our own.
Books Similar to Long Island and Brooklyn
Readers drawn to the poignant storytelling of Brooklyn and its sequel, Long Island, may be wondering: what other novels carry the same resonance? Stories rooted in immigration, identity, cultural dissonance, and the messy beauty of relationships often carry universal weight, reminding us we’re more connected than we imagine. This section dives into shared themes and book recommendations that will undoubtedly captivate those enamored by Colm Tóibín’s Eilis Lacey series.
Themes That Connect Similar Works
At the heart of novels like Brooklyn and Long Island lie universal themes that gently tug at our emotions. Why do such books resonate so deeply? Perhaps because they reflect the complexities of human relationships, reminding us how life always dances between past and present, tradition and change.
- Family Dilemmas: Tóibín isn’t alone in exploring the delicate dynamics of family. Novels like The Light Between Oceans by M.L. Stedman showcase how choices ripple through generations, leaving unresolved tensions and bittersweet resolutions. Similarly, family bonds form a fragile yet enduring backbone that evolves under the strain of personal conflicts.
- Balance of the Past and Present: Books that capture the struggle to reconcile where we come from with who we’re becoming—like Another Brooklyn by Jacqueline Woodson—mirror the tension Eilis feels in Tóibín’s works. In Long Island, for example, Eilis’s confrontation with her Irish roots intertwines with the suburban American reality she finds herself navigating, echoing this universal struggle.
- Cultural Identity: Anyone who’s immigrated, traveled, or otherwise straddled two cultural worlds finds themselves at the mercy of identity crises. Think of Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Namesake, where characters grapple with generational divides and cultural misunderstandings in ways deeply reminiscent of Eilis’s dual life between Ireland and America.
Books exploring these shared themes often carry a depth that goes beyond plot. They depict the unresolved—our hurts, decisions, regrets—like freckles on skin, uniquely ours yet universally understood. They’ll meet you right where you are, lingering in your thoughts like old acquaintances.
Recommended Reads for Tóibín Fans
If you’ve been immersed in the world of Brooklyn and Long Island, you’re likely yearning for comparable stories with the same emotional resonance. Here are some highly recommended novels and authors that strike the same tone, weaving identity, longing, and human complexity into unforgettable narratives:
- Anne Enright’s The Gathering
This Booker Prize-winning novel cuts straight to the bone, much like Tóibín’s works. Enright’s exploration of grief, sibling dynamics, and long-buried family secrets creates a layered narrative perfect for fans of introspective and hauntingly personal storytelling. The shared Irish roots between her writing and Tóibín’s deepen the emotional connections. - Sebastian Barry’s The Secret Scripture
Considered by many as one of Ireland’s literary treasures, Barry writes with raw insight into memory, trauma, and love. This novel, set against Ireland’s rich yet painful backdrop, often feels like the cousin of the Eilis Lacey series—sharing a voice that’s reflective, poignant, and deeply moving. - Jacqueline Woodson’s Another Brooklyn
Focusing on themes of adolescence and memory, Woodson’s work is lyrical yet grounded in heaviness. Much like Eilis’s navigation through 1950s Brooklyn, characters here confront the inevitable clash of longing for the past while trying to thrive in the present. Goodreads curates wonderful related recommendations like these suggestions. - M.L. Stedman’s The Light Between Oceans
A heartbreaking tale about loss, love, and the moral ambiguity of choices, this novel aligns beautifully with the ethical dilemmas seen in Brooklyn and Long Island. For those who loved how Tóibín tackled the weight of decision-making, Stedman’s narrative brings a similarly emotional undertone. - Colson Whitehead’s Sag Harbor
This nostalgic, coming-of-age tale set in the 1980s unpacks identity and the complexity of belonging from a Black family’s perspective in a predominantly white summer resort town. Its exploration of personal growth in the face of societal pressures offers echoes of Tóibín’s nuanced take on these struggles.
For a broader exploration of layered narratives, you might also enjoy browsing resources like Books Similar to Brooklyn or delve wholly into themes that explore immigration and belonging from authors such as Yaa Gyasi or Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Trust me—it’ll feel like opening a friend’s diary you didn’t know you needed to read.
The next time you’re hunting for novels that capture the same intricate emotional tapestry as Tóibín’s Long Island Eilis Lacey series, consider the above picks. These books go beyond the surface, lingering in the quiet spaces of our minds, proving Tóibín may have lit the spark—but the fire of these themes burns across countless shelves.
Conclusion
Long Island enhances the Eilis Lacey series by pushing its emotional core further, exploring what happens when the seemingly stable cracks and life demands a reckoning. It’s not just a continuation but a deepening—a portrait of a woman grappling with identity, betrayal, and the weight of unresolved choices.
Tóibín’s storytelling resonates in its honesty, reflecting how messy and imperfect human relationships really are. Eilis’s journey—from small-town Ireland to Brooklyn and now Long Island—reminds readers that no matter how far we run, the past is always within reach, quietly shaping who we are. It’s a sequel that stays true to the themes of longing and self-discovery, while offering an even sharper edge.
For those who crave stories that mirror life’s complexities, this series remains unforgettable. So, what does it mean to belong? Maybe the answer lies not in where we are, but in how we choose to move forward despite the chaos behind us.