This book has been so over-hyped, that I was expecting great things from it, but it didn’t deliver. I found it reasonably readable, and I wanted (kind of) to carry on to see how everything panned out, but I didn’t really care. It all simply never amounted to very much. The disjointed plot-line, or rather plot-lines, which kept jumping about in time and place for no apparent reason other than to jump about in time and place which is what contemporary novels are apparently supposed to do, sadly never really cohered into a satisfying whole. The novel tells the story of three generation of Irish women dealing with all the tropes that women have to deal with, and was far too ambitious in trying to cover so many “issues”. Bringing in 9/11 was particularly gratuitous, I felt. With multiple POVs the voices should have been far more distinctive than they were to carry the narrative, but essentially everyone sounded the same. Overall, an Irish soap opera which didn’t engage me. Not a bad book, really, just not a very good one.

I love sprawling stories about sisters, family secrets and intertwining timelines and that’s exactly what Confessions is. I’d heard some fantastic things about it from people whose opinions I trust, so I was eagerly anticipating getting to this exciting debut.

In late September 2001 in New York, 16-year-old Cora wanders the streets lined with missing people posters -her father being one of them. She receives a letter from an aunt she didn’t know about in Ireland, inviting her to start a new life and reminding her of a video game that she knows she has seen around the house somewhere. In 1974 in County Donegal, sisters Maire and Roisin couldn’t really be more different. When a group of eccentric artists move into the old schoolhouse in their hometown, Roisin knows that Maire would be their perfect artist in residence and sets about trying to help her get the job. In 2018 in Burtonpoint, Lyca lives with her mother Cora and great aunt Roisin when she receives word from a childhood friend that opens up family secrets that should perhaps have been left buried.

Opening with Cora’s heartwrenching ordeal as she tries to survive alone in the aftermath of 9/11 really drew me in. I was hooked immediately on her story and I wanted to see where the tragedy was going to take her. I felt that Airey really captured the world’s reaction to what was going on in New York and I was wandering around the city, which reeked of despair and fear. There was something about it that was so powerful and it made for such an engaging start.

I had never considered that a Twix resembles the Twin Towers and I suppose that’s something you would only think about while the disaster is still raw and all-consuming. Cora’s opening section illustrated a specific moment in time so intricately and thoughtfully and to be honest, I could have read a whole novel from her perspective.

However, I did also love Maire and Roisin’s dynamic and story. Roisin’s views on writing and books very much reflect my own, so I was rooting for her whenever she and Maire bickered. I also admired Maire’s confidence and talent. She was the kind of girl that everyone wants to be like but so few can be like.

There is also commentary on 1970s race relations in Ireland through the treatment of Michael, the mixed race boy who lives next door to Maire and Roisin. He plays a very significant role in the breakdown of the sisters’ relationship through no fault of his own, so he’s not just thrown in to make a point.

I actually recently re-read The Bell Jar too and there was something about the bleak, greyness of Confessions that made reading both novels together really interesting. They are not that similar but they also are, if that makes sense? Both stories about women trying to survive in the time and place that they’ve been born into and the struggles that come with that. Roisin is not Esther Greenwood but perhaps she could have been.

Part of Maire’s thread includes an infertility storyline, specifically ‘unexplained infertility’. It’s potentially a trigger for some but I thought the way that Airey narrates Harold and Isabelle’s struggle was real, honest and managed to convey the hopelessness of it all really well. Medically, everything appears to work for both of them, so why is there no baby? It’s the number one question for so many couples and I don’t think it’s talked about enough, so I imagine that will hit some readers pretty hard.

Confessions feels like a very wise book. It’s full of life lessons from all of its characters and I learned so much from them, particularly Roisin. I would love to have a cup of tea with her and listen to her stories forever. It feels like a pretty mountainous task to bring together all of these characters’ individual lives and interweave them into the saga that Confessions is but Catherine Airey has definitely succeeded in doing this. For a debut, it’s a pretty incredible read. There were some points where I couldn’t keep some of the characters straight in my head because there are so many of them but I was still fully engaged from start to finish.

A twisting, turning confusion of a story.
A few times I decided to give up with it, but then something would pique my interest, and I’d be off again.
The way the story jumped around made it confusing, and difficult to work out which generation of women was being written about…..and who the particular character’s father was!

Thank you to NetGalley for providing this book for review.

The US publishers of Confessions are keen to compare it to The Goldfinch and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow. Personally, I don’t think that’s a fair or particularly useful comparison — other than to say that, like The Goldfinch, I found Confessions overly long and at times in need of tighter editing. There’s a lot of ambition here, which I respect, but the book sometimes feels weighed down by its own scope.

The computer game element, which I thought worked brilliantly and seamlessly in Tomorrow, felt much clunkier here. It never quite integrated into the narrative in a natural way for me, and instead of deepening the story it often pulled me out of it. That said, the writing itself has moments of real elegance and the author clearly has a strong voice and vision. For a debut, it’s certainly impressive, and there are characters and scenes that will stick with me.

I just wish the book as a whole had been more disciplined in its structure and more convincing in its use of its central conceit. I’ll be interested to see what Catherine Avery writes next — there’s definitely talent here — but this didn’t quite live up to the comparisons for me.

This is a title that would certainly appeal to a lot of people, but I found it meandered a little too much for my taste.

My thanks to the author, NetGalley, and the publisher for the arc to review.

This was brilliant!
The story stays with you and is unforgettable - It was a tough read and requires a bit of commitment but all worth it!

This is a well written saga. The characters are believable and the plot interesting spanning 3 generations. It is an unsettling read but unforgettable all the same.

What a gut wrenching and astoundingly written book! It stirred such empathy within me for all the characters. Each one exuding their own emotional paths on the page with intensity.

This was a book filled with beautiful and captivating writing. When I started it, it took me back to a time that was extremely painful and tragic for me, for completely separate reasons to what was happening in the book. I therefore paused and temporarily stepped away, however, I knew I wanted to come back and continue with the book and it did not disappoint!

I felt vacuumed into the characters worlds. The way the layers of lives intermeshed and connected so perfectly, it left no loose ends. There’s a real mix of characters, each one astoundingly written, expressing their own isolation, sadness, and loss and the turmoil that life can create. You can feel the angst pulsating off the pages.

The book was atmospheric and I didn’t know which direction the story was going, it kept me in the dark and wanting more. If you want a read, that is incredibly emotive with strongly developed characters and multiple timelines, look no further.

I give this book 4.75 stars.

Thank you so much to NetGalley and all involved with providing me an ARC copy of this book for an honest review.

Confessions is a multigenerational saga that follows three generations of Irish women—Róisín, her niece Cora, and Cora's daughter Lyca—as they navigate secrets, trauma, and identity across decades and continents. Set between 1970s rural Ireland and post-9/11 New York, the novel delves into themes of womanhood, family, and the enduring impact of the past.

I liked Confessions, it’s a slow, thoughtful read about family, identity, and the stuff we carry through generations. It was an emotionally layered novel that weaves together family secrets, complex female relationships, and the weight of generational trauma. With rich character development and a dual timeline that flows well. it’s the kind of book that quietly pulls you in until the final page.but the characters felt real and I enjoyed how it gently unpacked big themes without being too heavy.

This book sank into me quietly. The writing is so gentle and aching, full of silences that speak louder than words, and I felt cradled by every sentence. It’s not just a story about grief or identity or family. It’s about the way choices linger, how they echo through generations and shape people we’ve never even met. There is something so deeply human about watching Cora stumble through loss and then stumble into history. The way the past reveals itself here is so tender, so haunting, so inevitable. I loved the stillness of it, the way the pain wasn’t loud, but persistent. I loved the women in these pages. How flawed and loving and complicated they were, how time didn’t simplify them but only made them more real. What made this book unforgettable for me was the sense that memory itself was alive, waiting to be looked at closely. I finished the last page and just sat there, full of quiet sorrow and a strange kind of peace. It was an unraveling. A confession of everything we carry, even when we don’t speak it. And I’ll be carrying it with me for a long, long time.

This has stuck with me, wormed its way under my skin. The characterisation is phenomenal and I feel like these are some of the most realistic characters I’ve met in a while

I thought this had such a brilliant opening! I felt it sort of lost its way in the middle, and could have been tightened up significantly. I do think it had a good payoff at the end though, with all the threads coming neatly together.

With thanks to NetGalley for the ARC #NetGalley #CatherineAirey #Confessions #PenguinBooks #Viking

The title 'Confessions' is a multi use concept in reference to Airey's novel.
Not only is it a succinct and pointed title, but equally it supports to continued trope of character voice throughout the book.
Telling the generation spanning stories of three women in one family, pivoting, despite them, around the actions, interactions and impact of various men in their life. This is a novel which is direct in the presentation of character thought process and thus in rationalising adeptly the actions each woman takes to survive and or thrive in each of their narratives.

The novel spans three very different decades, but manages to embroider the links amongst the women in ways that are both meaningful and easily understood too.
County Donegal, 1974. New York City 2001. Burtonport, 2018. Each woman has mystery and a valuable story that keeps the reader emoting and curious. As links are made in the characters and how they cross into the others' lives. What is equally engaging is that Airey has not created a series of women's stories that map directly onto one another. There are some ideas about inherited familial issues and debates, but each character offers a perspective and story that is wholly their own. There is a prescient mix of politics, personal and cultural ideas which are framed against clearly set locations and societal tropes dependent on the era. I really enjoyed equally the acknowledgement of big shifts or moments in contemporary history because they were relevant to the story. Never does Airey flicker into irreverent or pointless fact telling so as to try and make her novel perhaps more 'knowledgeable'. The crisp focus is the stories of these three women and this remains for the length of the book.

Airey writes with clarity and an adept style of narrative that is both engaging and in many ways emotive so as to create empathy. The multi-voiced narrative is well constructed and though this is well shaped, well written and does well in connecting to the reader, there was a lull and dullness at points in the book, which had me skim reading and flicking ahead. Perhaps this is a nod to relevance and personal preference. Overall this is a novel with purpose and promise that I am sure will appeal to a wide range of readers.

In a saga that jumps between generations and timespans in various locations, it's rare to care so strongly about each element equally (I usually find myself rushing through some bits to get back to the characters I prefer!) but Airey builds each world with such a richness and seamlessly moves between them. I was totally hooked from the start and the story all comes together so cleverly and in such a satisfying way. I'd absolutely recommend this as a book club read too - lots of themes to discuss, and social and political commentaries in both Ireland and the US which I find fascinating. It's really hard to believe this is a debut - I'll be looking out for what's next by her.

This is quite a convoluted & somewhat confusing story but enjoyable nonetheless. It was potentially brilliant but I never felt as if I cared enough about any of the characters. It is well written and very original and I liked some of the connections between the characters even if I became frustrated by their inability to take control of their lives.

This novel defies description. Cora goes from losing her parents (separately and horribly) in New York to a new life in Ireland.
We also follow Cora's deeply disturbed Mother, (an artist) and her sister. There was almost more suffering than I could take. I loved the use of early Choose Your Own Adventure video games in the plot.

A clever, absorbing read spanning 3 generations. Rather dark but written in a modern style. Not an easy read to begin with but it drew me in and the characters became more likeable. Memorable and satisfying but rather unsettling.

This is so sad but so beautifully written. The main character starts off quite unlikeable but I’ll defy anyone not to be in love with her and her family by the end. Starts during 9/11 as a trigger warning. Ends up in Ireland. Very sad but you’ll feel you know the people and their motives by the end.

Catherine Airey’s debut novel, Confessions, is an irresistible and deeply poetic exploration of family secrets, loss, and the search for identity across three generations. At the heart of this haunting narrative lies the defining tragedy of 9/11, the day that tore America’s heart apart. Cora Brady, the novel’s protagonist, loses her father in the Twin Towers attack, years after her mother’s suicide. Left untethered, she receives a letter from her estranged aunt Róisín in Ireland, drawing her back to her family's roots. As she settles into her new life, her parents' past begins to unfold before her, revealing long-buried truths.

The novel seamlessly shifts between different timelines and perspectives, beginning in 1974 through the eyes of Róisín Dooley, Cora’s aunt. Róisín and her sister Maire (Cora’s mother) were inseparable as children. Both were drawn to the same boy, Michael, who ultimately chose Maire out of a sense of responsibility rather than passion. Maire, always otherworldly, became unmoored after a traumatic incident in art school—an event that would shape her fate.

The narrative then moves to New York in 1979, where Maire studies art, followed by Róisín’s perspective in Ireland in 1981, now in a relationship with Michael. The novel continues to leap through time: to Lyca Brady, Cora’s daughter, in Ireland in 2018, where Róisín acts as a grandmother to her, and back to New York in 1992, where Michael, struggling with Maire’s worsening depression, writes long letters to Róisín, which she keeps hidden in a tin box.

The novel ends in the present, with Lyca piecing together the story of her lineage through old photographs and the letters in the tin. Like a puzzle, Confessions builds its emotional weight through these fragments of history, offering a layered and immersive reading experience. Interwoven between these chapters are intriguing elements—clues from a computer game designed by Róisín and Maire, as well as the presence of a Victorian house full of ghosts, both literal and metaphorical.

Airey masterfully balances poetic lyricism with gripping storytelling. Her exploration of generational trauma, immigration, love, and loss is deeply affecting, drawing the reader into the lives of these women as they navigate their own personal reckonings. The novel’s shifting perspectives might challenge some readers, but its emotional depth and the skillful intertwining of narratives make it an unforgettable read.

Unputdownable, evocative, and richly layered, Confessions establishes Catherine Airey as a storyteller to watch.

Beautifully written and immersive read following three generations of women with links to Ireland and New York, unravelling the secrets which span continents and time.

Cora's father has just died in the 9/11 attacks, leaving her orphaned following the death of her mother some years earlier. She receives a letter from an aunt she has never known, offering to look after her in Ireland.

The interwoven stories which emerge are beautifully told and vividly capture the emotions and atmosphere of the place and times.