Who Is The Author Of 'Evenings And Weekends'?

I just finished reading 'Evenings and Weekends' last week and was blown away by its raw emotional depth. The author, Oisin McKenna, captures modern loneliness like no one else. Their background in poetry shines through every sentence—it's lyrical but never pretentious. McKenna has this knack for making mundane moments feel epic, like when they describe a character staring at a kebab wrapper at 3 AM. Before this novel, they wrote for major publications, but 'Evenings and Weekends' is their fiction debut. It's wild how they weave together four characters' lives over a sweaty London summer. If you like Sally Rooney's vibe but crave grittier realism, McKenna's your new obsession.

Oisin McKenna's emergence with 'Evenings and Weekends' feels significant. They're part of a new wave of Dublin writers rejecting tired tropes about Ireland, instead focusing on urban millennials navigating rent crises and fraying friendships. McKenna previously contributed to The Guardian and Vice, sharpening their observational skills through journalism.

What makes 'Evenings and Weekends' stand out is its structure—the way McKenna rotates perspectives between queer, straight, working-class, and privileged characters without judgment. Each voice feels distinct yet interconnected, like overhearing conversations on a crowded bus. The novel's preoccupation with time (those fleeting weekend hours when life actually happens) reflects McKenna's interest in how capitalism warps our relationships.

For readers who enjoyed Colin Barrett's 'Homesickness' or Naoise Dolan's 'Exciting Times', McKenna offers a fresher, more chaotic energy. Their next project reportedly explores climate anxiety through speculative fiction, which could cement their reputation as Ireland's most versatile young writer.

Oisin McKenna wrote 'Evenings and Weekends', and damn does their voice stick with you. This isn't some detached literary exercise—it's a pulse check on a generation. McKenna grew up in Dublin's inner city, and that street-level perspective fuels every page. You can tell they've worked retail jobs from how accurately they capture the soul-crush of service industry work.

What's cool is how McKenna blends genres. Parts read like autofiction, others like dystopia (the heatwave subplot feels creepily prophetic). Their dialogue crackles with inside jokes and unspoken tensions, like when two exes awkwardly share a spliff. The book's title comes from that liminal space where most of adult life actually happens—after work, before Monday. McKenna finds poetry in group chats and Grindr hookups.

If you're tired of novels about rich people's problems, this is your antidote. It's like if Kevin Barry wrote 'Normal People', but with more techno music and supermarket wine. Keep an eye on McKenna—they're rewriting what Irish literature can be.