I’ve been meaning to read Evenings and Weekends for a while now, and the perfect opportunity happened when it was chosen as the first book in the Inklings book club (by Jack Edwards, who’s brilliant). And this book completely swept me up and took over my life. It’s one of those books that feels like a snapshot of a moment in time but stays with you long after.
It’s raw, messy, and achingly real. Set over a scorching summer weekend in London, the novel follows a group of thirty-somethings as they navigate love, identity, and the weight of their own choices. And it helped that I read it over an equally hot weekend, so I could genuinely experience the oppressive heat.
At the heart of the story is Maggie, who’s pregnant and facing the reality of leaving her beloved London life behind for the suburbs. And I loved how this author depicted her worries of losing her identity and everything she loves so she can be a mother. How she wanted it, she wanted to be a mom, but also resented that she’d have to give up so much.
Then there’s Phil, her best friend, who’s fallen in love with his housemate Keith, who’s already in a relationship. And Callum, Phil’s brother, who’s caught in a spiral of self-destruction, all while their mother, Rosaleen, struggles with a cancer diagnosis. Each character is so vividly drawn, their struggles so palpable, that I couldn’t help but feel deeply connected to them.
My favorite was Rosaleen and her chapters. She’s such a kind person, so loving and caring, with so much depth that afterwards, I kept looking at people like that — people you overlook — and wondered what their life was like, what they actually thought and wanted.
What really struck me was how McKenna dove into the complexities of queer identity and the challenges of building meaningful connections in a world that often feels disconnected. The characters’ internal battles, their desires, their fears are all laid bare with such honesty that it’s impossible not to be moved.
And they feel so self-sabotaging at times, being dishonest or avoiding their issues, that you just want to shake them, but then you remember that most of real life is like that as well — you often don’t say what you mean, you don’t spend enough time with people you love because it can hurt, you don’t always do the best thing.
The setting of London isn’t just a backdrop; it pulses with life, mirroring the characters’ turmoil and aspirations. It’s there almost like a silent observer to our character’s struggles, and I’ve never been (though I wish to), but I felt as if I knew it, as if I’ve just taken a trip and understood what each character sees in it. And it is different for each character — it’s a different London for Maggie and Rosaleen, and Phil and Callum, and Ed.
A whale is also stuck in the Thames, and a lot of the story explores that as well, and each character’s story is somehow touched by it, this huge creature, dying and completely unaware of it all.
That all said, I felt there were a few POVs that weren’t quite necessary. For example, the POV of the scientist that was helping the whale, or even Louis’ POV (Keith’s boyfriend). The focus would be tighter if we didn’t have these (though I am happy to see how Phil, Keith and Louis figured it all out).
I found myself reflecting on the book long after I’d turned the last page. It’s one of those reads that lingers, making you think about your own relationships and the choices that define you. If you’re looking for a novel that’s both poignant and real, Evenings and Weekends is absolutely worth picking up.
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