Thanks to NetGalley for the review copy in exchange for an honest review

An interesting portrayal of grief and how it transforms a person. This novel is presented in three acts, each of which finds Leo at a different place and time while he reels from his sudden separation from Thomas. Leo seems to come to the realization that he will never love someone as much as he did Thomas so he shuts himself from the world and turns inward so that he can find himself by reflecting on his past experiences with Thomas.

A beautifully written novel, although at times I found it to be too self-involved and descriptive. At one point I wondered if the character of Leo wasn’t simply selfish but I’m glad I kept reading and discovered his grief was multi-faceted. If anything, this reads like more of an autobiography than fiction, and I wish it had been advertised as such.

I'll give a 3 but it wasn't for me.
The book is sad not just given the context but also in writing. And I found it kind of boring. Contemplated DNFing but there were good parts. The jumping around in time, in a book with hardly any chapters, didn't work well for me.
Thank you, Netgalley!

Beautifully written story that keeps you motivated and focused. I started this book and it was a bit slow for my taste but it was worth the reading.

In the wake of his long-term boyfriend’s death, Leo flees, across Europe, to New York, back to his hometown, wherever he can go to in his attempt to outrun his grief. Separate Rooms, follows Leo’s journey through these travels. It’s a really beautiful examination of grief and how this death sort of represents a loss of innocence for Leo and ultimately forces him to confront how his childhood and sexuality have shaped him and the ways he interacts with the world. I often find it harder to talk about books I’ve loved compared to books I haven’t, and this book is no different, but what I can say is that the writing is beautiful, the narrative is thoughtful, the portrayal of grief feels so real, and Leo as a character is well-rounded and compelling.

I enjoyed "Separate Rooms" more than expected. Tondelli's deceptively rhythmic writing is given a worthy translation by Pleasance, where the atmosphere and rumination are retained. One of the novel's most interesting aspects, in my opinion, is how Leo's constant, seemingly adventurous moves within Europe and to America are juxtaposed with his muted inner reflection and struggles, achieving an almost impossible balance. Though there are periodic rambles and the first two parts flounder a little, everything culminates beautifully - albeit melancholically - in the titular third part, where Leo's musings ring surprisingly, deeply true, a feat quite amazing to me, to see my personal thoughts paralleled in a character written in the late 80s

While the story is pretty good (intense, sad, beautiful) and I enjoyed reading it, I ended up putting this book down because of the writing style. For some reason - I think it was the short sentences - I just couldn't really get into it as much as I expected.

Three stars because on a content level there is nothing wrong with this book, the formal decisions just weren't my thing. I can see why this novel hits as hard as it does for some people, but not my thing.

I planned to read the book in italian, with the help of a dictionary and thanks to the publisher and Netgalley I got this copy of the book. Unfortunately, the fame of the author and the cover of the English translation surpassed in my opinion the book itself. The author might feel things intensely but it doesn't seem to be able to transmit to the reader the story or the characters. Thank you for the ARC.

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐ ½
Genre: Classic + Literary Fiction + LGBTQ+

Separate Rooms is a 1980s queer Italian classic novel that has been translated into the English language. It follows Leo, a man in his thirties, mourning the death of his lover. Leo is a writer who has been deeply in love with Thomas, a young German musician. The story highlights their relationship and how their careers affected their passionate bond.

The story is narrated from Leo’s perspective in a nonlinear style. Through his narration, we get to feel the isolation that Leo has been going through and the struggles and obstacles that affected his relationship with his lover.

The novel is about love, loss, grief, identity, isolation, and memory. With the melancholic and poetic prose, the author successfully turned this story into a tale of heavy loss and emotional depth. The representation of gay characters here is very authentic and will resonate with many readers.

Due to the lack of plot progression, I feel this story won’t be the cup of tea of every reader. The story doesn’t have what one calls dramatic events or even a clearly defined resolution. I was not a fan of the constant jumps between past and present. I feel a linear approach would’ve served the book a lot better. Regardless of these drawbacks, I still think this is a fascinating read that you should give a try.

Many thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for providing me with the ARC of this book.

It turned out to be different from what I had expected. The language is good, but I couldn't connect with the storytelling, the characters, or their emotions. The narration felt vague and I struggled to follow the 'story'.
Thank you for the opportunity to read this book; unfortunately, it didn’t work for me.

Separate Rooms” is a beautifully introspective story about love, loss, and the way grief lingers. Leo’s journey feels raw and real, making this a deeply moving read that sticks with you.

I’m a sucker for gay literature, especially set in the 80s. Separate Rooms, republished work by the late Pier Vittorio Tondelli who sadly passed away over three decades ago of AIDS, seemed like exactly what I was looking for, especially given the connection to Italy and Europe, but I was mistaken.

The story follows Leo, who seeing his loved one slowly dying, travels placing himself in “separate rooms” - separate places, countries and times — from Thomas, having to reckon with the love that is and was. The description paints a touching story but I was left confused and (shamefully) bored. I really wanted to love this but at 20% I knew that was a pipe dream.

While this book didn’t click for me (have I mentioned yet how much I wish it did?), I’m excited to see this on the big screen — from the description of the book, I know I’ll need some tissues. Hopefully it won’t feel as disjointed and confusing as the novel, however. Thanks for NetGalley and Zando Projects for the ARC.

Had to DNF at ~20%. The prose was beautifully written, and I suppose the author delves deeper into important themes later in the novel, but neither the romance nor the plot felt engaging enough for me. Might give it a second chance in a few months.

A beautiful portrait of what life looks like when you lose a soulmate and what putting it back together can look like. Made me hopeful in a way. The romance also felt very nature.

I want to extend my heartfelt thanks to you for providing me with this arc! It's not often that translated works manage to maintain the original tone and essence of the author, but the translator has done exceptional justice to the original text with this one.

The book drips with melancholy, evoking a deep sense of emotion, and I can truly appreciate the effort that went into preserving this in the translation. While I did enjoy the more plot driven parts of the book to the philosophical parts, I found that it all worked really well in the end. I feel a deep connection to this work, and I’m sure many other have and will as well.

I seem to be drawn to these stories lately, Giovanni’s Room, Real Life, We The Animals all explore identity and sexuality and do it with beautiful tender prose and a dash of melancholy.

This book is set in the 80s and Tondelli really captures the tone of the time and this stood out to me more than anything.

A contemplative and moving story that’s less about romance than it is about what happens when love is cut tragically short.

Leo, an Italian writer in his thirties, has his whole world shattered when his younger lover Thomas dies of AIDS. The novel is based somewhat on the author's own life experiences and that closeness to the story is apparent in the meticulous details and sense of realism prevalent throughout. Though not an easy or accessible book, I was grateful to have read it. We know from the outset that Thomas is going to die, but the story dances around this event, seemingly unable to depict it head on. This stylistic choice mimics Leo’s avoidance of his own grief, and makes for a unique reading experience.

I found the first third of the book the easiest to follow narratively. The latter section was difficult for me to get through. This was due to the plot and time periods shifting rapidly, the more introspective tone of this portion in general , and that perennial issue of translated works, the prose coming off as stilted and odd when rendered in another language. Nonetheless, there was still something of value there. Leo’s memory of seeing a group of young tourists carefree and feasting on a ferry deck, and his likening that to the rest of the world going on after Thomas’s death was powerful, beautiful stuff.

Separate Rooms is a complex and nuanced story for those with the patience for it.

Very engaging and interesting read. Very well developed and ambitious. Will be recommending to library collection and patrons.

the first half of the book was probably a 4.5 star section and he really succeeds in making us feel for the chars. the second half was good dragged and was probably closer to a 3 star. average it out for a 4 star review. tysm for the arc.

Rich in realism. Love this story so much. I wish I was around when this story was first published but I’m glad a new generation will be able to experience it just like I did

Just the way I like it - brooding and melancholy with lots of art references. It is also a fascinating document of its time, exposing structural normativities in both their hetero and homo forms. The latter is especially interesting in the novel because of its femme phobia and insistence on an idea of masculinity that appears in contemporary queer circles as a relict of the deep past, but that still occasionally rears its ugly head.