A clear gaze that divides readership

Lionel Shriver’s seventh novel was her first bestseller. “We Need to Talk About Kevin,” published in 2003, stirred up a fierce reaction with its precise and unsentimental excavation of a mother’s deep ambivalence toward her teenage son, the perpetrator of a Columbine-style killing spree. Her new book, “The Post-Birthday World,” tells the story of Irina McGovern, a childless American book illustrator living in London, who is tempted to leave her longtime partner, a foreign policy wonk named Lawrence, for another man, Ramsey, a professional snooker player. Tough choice!

So the novel splits in two, with alternate chapters telling how her life plays out in each scenario. This one also climbed onto bestseller lists, soon after it appeared last month. In subject matter and form, the two books couldn’t be more different -- so why does “The Post-Birthday World” seem to be touching as many raw nerves as “We Need to Talk About Kevin”? Shriver, also an American who lives in London, considered the question over the phone from Toronto, where she was on a book tour.

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-- Maria Russo

WHAT’S so weird is that I didn’t think there was anything controversial about this book -- I thought this was going to be a sweet storytelling read. It seemed so harmless to me. Now I’m mostly responding to reviews, but in fact I get a very strong reaction from live audiences too on this: that Irina is portrayed as a woman who is a serious professional -- she’s good at what she does -- but she knows that what will determine her happiness more than anything else is a man. What will make a greater difference to her is a love that lasts.

I would say that in times past to have a character like that who was female would be almost like not having a character. These days to have a character who will admit that -- that makes her brave. Now one reviewer in particular -- and I emphasize, this was a positive review, but I did feel misunderstood -- thought the whole ambition of Irina to be satisfied in love was intrinsically sad, and therefore I was demonstrating that whatever man she chose, she would be unhappy. So the reviewer said I was “cynical.” Now, Irina has her problems -- there’s a tragedy in each side of the book -- but I don’t see how you interpret that as cynical.

I don’t think I am a cynic, especially about love. I am a pragmatist. This is a book that argues for practicality about finding a partner. You’re not going to find anyone who checks all the boxes. To me that is optimistic: Look around you. Make your peace with the flaws in the person who you do love. And that means that love is possible, because part of the project is finding your own forgiveness, as they also have to forgive you. And so there is not just this one perfect person who you have to run into on a particular day or you’ve missed the boat. It will just be different -- not necessarily better or worse -- and it probably comes with one particular kind of heartache.

... There’s a polarity that the book intends to create -- and I’m pleased by it -- but it has created this business of the readership dividing on whether they think Irina is better off with Lawrence or Ramsey. I’m convinced it depends on what experience the individual reader has had in his or her own life. These are characters who seem to remind people of romances in their own past.

So it’s interesting, the general readership seems to cleave perfectly down the middle. They really like Ramsey or they really like Lawrence -- but both find it mystifying that there is even a choice. Some reviews say Lawrence is obviously a big bore, who would want to be with him rather than Ramsey? Then there’s the other camp: Ramsey is just a creep, what would she see in him, how can he compare to Lawrence?

And, of course, in each of the universes, she is still drawn to the one she lets go.