Review: The Third Act by Kathleen Brehony

A smart and touching tale of taking second chances and finding your people, The Third Act by Kathleen Brehony explores the rich possibilities of great love during a painful season of loss.

Shannon O’Connell is an accomplished and gracefully aging author, but a string of personal heartbreaks has left her in serious need of support. When a long battle with breast cancer claims one of her dearest friends, Linda, the tragedy brings together their decades-old group of girlfriends for a celebration of life at the O’Connell family’s seaside cottage resort.

Elizabeth Matthews may be an award-winning filmmaker, but her ageless crush on Shannon still makes her palms sweat, and the reunion of “The Tribe” feels like the moment to finally express how she really feels. This is the first time Elizabeth and Shannon have been simultaneously single since that one unforgettable night thirty years earlier. As their lives begin to entangle, their hearts do the same, with lingering glances and unspoken longing fueled by the confusion and pain of their shared sorrow.

With each passing day of this emotionally charged weekend, the focus for both women shifts from remembering the past to considering the future, and what their rekindled connection could mean after so many years of quiet desire. From ambiguous embraces and cautious questions to wine cellar trysts and steamy showers, their simmering romance inevitably heats up, but is this a temporary release of grief, or the beginning of a new chapter?

Brehony writes with wisdom, compassion, and maturity, which feels essential for this underrepresented niche in romance fiction, but this novel is much more than a two-character love story. The unique depths of female friendship and the power of collective intimacy are something rarely highlighted in contemporary literature, particularly in overlap with LGBT themes, and those powerful bonds are front and center throughout the novel. Marily, Cindy, Caroline, and Barbara are secondary characters, but they add texture, context, and realism to the main characters’ story, particularly during the large group dialogues.

The alternating narrative viewpoints between Shannon and Elizabeth give readers a fully realized romance on the page, showing both sides of their initially timid but undeniable connection. The regular narration about touch, boundaries, flirtation, attraction, and arousal make this novel even more fearless; members of the Tribe regularly refer to the sexuality and vivacity of women in their sixties and seventies, which can empower readers who relate to the unfair expectations of aging. Brehony also patiently explores grief in different forms, from emotional openness and stoic detachment to the hunger for connection in unexpected forms and the visceral regret of lost opportunities.

On the technical side, some of the narration is overly declarative, falling into the classic expositional trap of telling, rather than showing. Regularly turning to such straightforward narration steals some of the delectable tension from the prose, but this is a minor issue overall, and the story is a powerful one.

All told, this is a poignantly penned and moving novel, celebrating community, confidence, and the vital potential for connection at any age.