Rather, the tensions are psychological: Cusack’s unresolved hatred for his father, Tony, “whiskey-sick and evil mouthed”; the misplaced shame induced by the sexual abuse incident; the psychodrama with Karine that goes on and on . . . But in truth? McInerney is so busy giving us reasons to care that she paradoxically produces the opposite effect. McInerney is a richly savage writer and an incisive chronicler of her home country, but like her characters, it’s time to move on.