Here’s the thing about Sally Rooney: she might be young, Irish and a debut novelist, but none of those descriptions seems all that relevant when you meet her in her flesh.
As Rooney strolls into the lobby of a Dublin hotel, unaccompanied by a publicist, what’s immediately apparent is that she’s a self-assured sort. Narrow-shouldered, make-up-free (except for lipstick) and clad in a leather jacket, she’s 26, but the Castlebar native has the...
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