"[Lazy City] is a novel about trauma and its aftermath: again, a common theme today, but done sophisticatedly here, with a quality of thinking rare in a debut … Connolly gives Erin a dry, wry voice, and one that’s frequently very funny … Lazy City exhibits an understanding of the importance of our homeland as the container that shapes us… I felt better after reading this book. Connolly is a writer in whom I have faith."— John Self The Telegraph
"A skillful debut novel paints a nuanced picture of Belfast and a grieving young woman’s search for something to believe in... Connolly’s incisive debut novel conveys the quiet desperation of a generation facing economic instability and career uncertainty, compounded by the climate crisis.... Belfast-born, Connolly offers a nuanced portrait of her home city: 'a place which shows all its history, all its personality, all the time… it’s not just the recent history, the flags and religion and borders. It’s the mountains everywhere, too.'"— Lucy Popescu The Observer
"[Written] with a piercing penetration and observational clarity . . . profound."— Suzi Feay The Guardian
"Erin’s experiences and relationships are well realised, narrated in her wry, funny and often hungover voice. This is a timely coming-of-age novel with all the pain and pleasure that involves."— Fanny Blake Daily Mail
"This soul-searching – and at times delightfully spiky – debut is a clear-eyed, non-judgemental guide through the sad stasis of grief and what’s both lost and gained in taking those vital steps closer to moving on."— Marie Claire, "Best Books of 2023"
"A mesmerising portrait of modern Belfast . . . genius."— Barry Pierce Big Issue
"A poignant story set in Northern Ireland, Rachel Connolly’s Lazy City is a mesmerising debut."— Rhianon Holley Buzz Magazine
"A startling and assured novel from an exciting new writer."— i-D
"Connolly writes especially well about parties, sex and hangovers – it’s brilliantly visceral – but it’s when she tackles self-esteem and unfulfilled potential that her prose really sings."— AnOther Magazine
"A compelling exploration of grief, uncertainty and disappointment, and a convincing portrait of Belfast’s normalisation, such as it is. Indeed, where a Troubles novel might have foregrounded trauma, Connolly focuses instead on the impact of more ordinary, but still devastating, loss."— Luke Warde Irish Independent
"[A] perceptive debut… Connolly draws the reader along by making each well-honed scene reverberate with emotion. This thoughtful character portrait is worth a look."— Publishers Weekly
"A pitch-perfect portrait of a 20-something whose life has been thrown off course, it is hard not to fall in love with the chaotic but charming Erin. As steeped in grief as it's soaked in booze, this vividly written debut is mordantly witty and profoundly moving."— Bookseller, Editor's Choice
"Crisp, clear-eyed and witty writing. . . . Rachel Connolly’s characters and their flawed, human attempts at redemption will stay with me for a long time."— Monica Heisey, author of Really Good, Actually
"In the wry and compassionate Lazy City, Rachel Connolly deftly captures both the intoxicating chaos and listlessness of young adulthood, when life seems both full of possibility and impossibly elusive."— Colin Barrett, author of Homesickness
"Frank, attentive, free of artifice or emotional contrivances, Rachel Connolly brings something new to any subject she shines her singular intelligence on."— Nicole Flattery, author of Nothing Special
2023-08-12
After the tragic death of her best friend, a young woman returns home to Belfast, where she considers past relationships, her faith, and Northern Ireland’s recent history.
On leave from her graduate program and back home in Belfast, Erin, the narrator of Connolly’s thoughtful debut, attempts to rebuild her life after the loss of her best friend. Unsure what to do next and unable to live with her emotionally unstable mother, Erin moves into a wealthier neighbor’s house, acting as house cleaner and live-in babysitter for her two kids. Most evenings are spent drinking with her hometown friend Declan, an aspiring artist who’s now working at their neighborhood bar. It’s there that she meets Matt, a lonely yet suspiciously cheerful American, who’s in Belfast to teach a course at Queen’s University and write his novel. She and Matt begin seeing each other and, against her better judgement, she also resumes a quasi-relationship with an old flame, Mikey. As Erin moves through the daily motions—running, cleaning, drinking, sex with Matt or Mikey—she struggles to confront the depths of her grief. Unable to confide in others, she finds herself returning to church, where she begins to find some level of catharsis while sitting alone among the religious imagery. Erin is a compelling narrator whose few, well-earned moments of self-discovery and exuberance bring life to the narrative. But the emphasis on quotidian details—drinks consumed, drugs taken, routines followed—coupled with an over-reliance on Erin’s often underdeveloped introspection means that the novel never quite reaches its emotional potential, and Erin’s thorny relationships with her mother, Mikey, Matt, and herself often lack satisfyingly deep interrogation.
Excels in its measured and realistic portrait of grief but struggles to develop into a propulsive narrative.
