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Author Biography

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Sally Rooney (born February 20, 1991, Castlebar, County Mayo, Ireland) has been dubbed "the first great millennial novelist" after publishing several well-received novels that highlight issues of class inequality, intimacy, art, and politics in the 21st century. Her best-known novel is Normal People (2018), which she adapted into a popular television miniseries in 2020.

Growing up as the middle of three children, Rooney gained early exposure to the arts. Her mother served as the director of a community arts center, and Rooney regularly attended theater, visual art exhibits, and other events with her siblings. Her father worked as a technician for Telecom Éireann, Ireland 's former national telecommunications company.

As a teenager, Rooney participated in a writing group hosted by an arts center. She composed stories throughout her teenage years and completed a novel at age 15. Though she later disparaged her early efforts at fiction writing, common threads link her past work with her successful novels. "If you took something I wrote when I was fifteen, it would be the same, plot-wise, as now," she said in a 2019 interview in The New Yorker.

Rooney attended a Roman Catholic high school, where her indignation simmered over requirements such as its dress code and homework policy. Through the school, she and her classmates had to attend lectures discouraging premarital sex. Years later, themes of sexuality and partnership outside of marriage would be central to her novels.

Rooney's first novel ignited a seven-way auction between publishing houses in 2016.

Rooney graduated from Trinity College Dublin in 2013 with a degree in English literature, though she had initially hoped to study English and sociology. While at Trinity, she competed as a member of the school's debate team and earned the distinction of number-one competitive debater in Europe at age 22. In 2015 she published an essay in The Dublin Review detailing her reasons for quitting the debate team after attaining such a prestigious achievement. She described a moral discomfort with twisting the narratives of countries and groups unfamiliar to her. The essay generated interest in her writing, and, when she finished a draft of a novel in 2016, the book was subject to a seven-way auction between publishing houses.

Conversations with Friends, Rooney's first published novel, debuted in 2017. It tells the story of a college student, Frances, and her affair with an older married actor. The novel highlights the ways in which complex interpersonal relationships can help people develop their individual and political identities. In 2022 it was adapted into a TV series; Rooney served as an executive producer.

Rooney's second novel, Normal People, published in 2018, tracks the unshakable yet warped romantic relationship between two main characters, Connell and Marianne. The pair serve as a vessel to convey themes of class inequality, patriarchy, and identity. Rooney also cowrote a television adaptation of Normal People produced for BBC Three and Hulu and released in 2020. The critically acclaimed series stars Paul Mescal and Daisy Edgar-Jones as Connell and Marianne, respectively, and received numerous award nominations. Rooney won an Irish Film and Television Award for best script and was nominated for an Emmy in the category of outstanding writing for a limited series.

Her novel Beautiful World, Where Are You, published in 2021, follows four protagonists whose lives grow intertwined. Interspersed throughout the narrative are email exchanges between characters, who share both mundane gossip and major existential questions.

Beyond her novels, in 2017-18 Rooney was the editor of the literary magazine The Stinging Fly, a journal where she had published some of her early poetry.

Rooney has expressed an affinity for writing dialogue, and terse ironic conversations populate her novels. She wields contemporary communication methods, particularly email and text messages, as literary tools. Her spare prose has earned her comparisons to Ernest Hemingway. She has also been referred to in terms such as "the Salinger of the Snapchat generation," though she has expressed discomfort with such labels. In 2019 she told Oprah Daily, "I feel a lot of anxiety about being 'chosen' or labeled the voice of a generation because I represent a privileged slice of that generation-I'm not really a representative emissary."

A self-professed Marxist, Rooney often expresses her political beliefs in her novels. Her characters grapple with capitalism, bemoaning the futility of advocating for political change in the face of impending economic and environmental doom. The Great Recession's impact on Ireland influenced Rooney's first three novels. She has also written opinion pieces for news sites such as The Irish Times and The Guardian on issues including the housing crisis in Ireland and the Israel-Hamas War.

The Sunday Times named Rooney the 2017 Young Writer of the Year, and Normal People received a number of awards, including the 2018 Irish Book Awards Novel of the Year. Beautiful World, Where Are You won the 2022 Dalkey Literary Awards Novel of the Year prize.

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Sally Rooney | Biography, Books, Normal People, & Conversations with Friends

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Sally Rooney has been dubbed 'the first great millennial novelist' after publishing several well-received novels that highlight issues of class inequality, intimacy, art, and politics in the 21st century. Her best-known novel is Normal People (2018), which she adapted into a highly popular television series in 2020.

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Ireland's Great Recession

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Ireland: From Tiger to Phoenix

Ireland's housing market was booming, and Sean Hanaphy was riding high. He had left college in 2005 to join his father's bricklaying business and was pulling down 80,000 euro a year. He bought an investment property with a friend, counting on a quick profit. Suddenly, in September 2008, the bottom fell out.

"The construction industry crumbled here completely," Hanaphy, now 35, recalls. There was hardly any work to be found, and he couldn't keep up with his mortgage payments. As Ireland's economy imploded, Hanaphy's friends started emigrating to Australia to find work. He joined the exodus.

Unemployment soared as the deepest downturn since the Great Depression gripped the country; altogether, 300,000 people, or one in every seven workers, lost their jobs by the end of 2010. But, after a difficult period of adjustment, the Irish economy started growing again. The unemployment rate fell to less than 7 percent by 2017 from a peak of more than 15 percent in 2011. It wasn't long before Hanaphy was back in Ireland, and back in business.

The country's remarkable recovery is a story of cooperation between the Irish government, the International Monetary Fund and the European Union. Ireland was swept up in the global financial crisis, but its problems were homegrown, and its return to economic health required homegrown solutions: restructuring banks, putting government finances back on an even keel, and working out a mountain of bad debts. The IMF and the EU provided loans and advice, but the Irish government was in the driver's seat.

"The way I put it at the time, when speaking to the public, was that the IMF was going to provide protection for Ireland from the vagaries of the international financial markets," said Patrick Honohan, who served as governor of Ireland's central bank from 2009 to 2015. "Ireland needed to borrow a lot of money to keep its services going."
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How did Ireland, once dubbed the "Celtic Tiger'' for its fast-growing economy, end up in such trouble? In the two decades ending in 2007, the country went from being one of the poorest in the EU to one of the most prosperous. At first, low corporate taxes, moderate wages, and a young, well-educated workforce attracted corporations such as Dell, IBM, and Coca-Cola, which saw Ireland as a platform for exports of manufactured goods to the rest of Europe. Over time, the business-friendly environment also attracted pharmaceutical companies, fund managers, and Internet service firms like Google and Facebook.

Economic growth averaged more than 6 percent a year, generating hundreds of thousands of jobs. A country that had lost a quarter of its population to emigration in the 19th century became a magnet for immigrants.

But the extended boom times gave rise to private exuberance matched by complacency among banks and regulators, making fertile ground for risky speculation. Rising incomes and cheap credit - thanks in part to Ireland's adoption of the common European currency, the euro-fueled a real estate bubble. In the decade ending in 2006, property values more than quadrupled, swelling government revenue and generating income for everyone from bricklayers to bankers.

By 2006, construction accounted for more than 12 percent of employment, the highest proportion among advanced economies. Ireland's banks, including entrants from the UK and other EU countries, lowered their lending standards as they competed for market share. Large sums were rapidly paid out to wealthy individuals acquiring properties in Ireland and around the world. Many small businesses branched out into real estate ventures like shopping malls. Home buyers took on ever higher debts relative to their incomes, and buy-to-let investors often bought multiple properties. This vast lending on commercial and residential property expanded bank assets to five times Ireland's GDP, mostly funded on wholesale markets rather than domestic deposits.
'Ghost estates'
The boom ran out of steam in 2007 just as the fragilities in the global economy began to emerge. Demand for new homes and other property cooled; prices stopped rising and then started to fall. Before long, construction was at dead halt, throwing tens of thousands of people out of work. The Irish countryside was littered with partly finished housing projects known as "ghost estates," and unfinished buildings lined Dublin's River Liffey. Immigrant plumbers and electricians started to leave the country again in search of greener pastures, followed by Irish citizens like Hanaphy.

"When the bubble burst, the building industry collapsed, and a significant portion of the economy collapsed with it,'' said Ann Nolan, who was just starting her job as No. 2 official in Ireland's Department of Finance. Like many others, she was blindsided by the crisis. "We thought that within the euro, that liquidity would be there forever."

But liquidity-in the form of money borrowed from overseas investors-began to dry up, especially after the collapse of Lehman Brothers in the United States signaled the beginning of what was to become a global crisis. With bank losses on property loans mounting and the economy slowing, nervous foreign creditors headed for the exits. The Irish government saw its budget deficit soar as tax revenue plummeted 20 percent in just two years and spending on social services rose.

"It was a perfect combination of a fiscal crisis, which was quite deep, combined with the domestic and global financial crises," said Derek Moran, secretary general of Ireland's Department of Finance since 2014.

On September 30, 2008, a panicked Irish government guaranteed the liabilities of the country's six major banks. In the two years that followed, the government pumped 46 billion euros, equivalent to 30 percent of GDP, into the banks and nationalized two of them, including Anglo-Irish Bank, which had been engulfed by an accounting scandal.

The bank guarantee only delayed the day of reckoning by two years. By that time, Europe was in the grip of a full-blown crisis that would also result in bailouts for Greece, Portugal, and Cyprus. In the last four months of 2010, 60 billion euros, equal to over one-third of GDP, flowed out of Ireland. The country's banks were being kept alive with emergency loans from the European Central Bank.

It was a situation that couldn't last. As bank bailouts swelled Ireland's national debt, and the declining economy weakened revenues, investors lost confidence in the government's creditworthiness.

"The markets realized the banking failures were going to cost the government enormous amounts of money," Honohan said. "It was clear that something had to be done, or else Irish economy as a whole would get into a kind of doom loop of higher financing costs and loss of access to the market."
The 'Troika' steps in
In November 2010, the Irish government sought help from the European Union and the IMF. Together they provided loans totaling 67.5 billion euros-equal to 40 percent of Ireland's economy-to be paid out over the next three years. A so-called "troika" of technical experts from the IMF, the European Central Bank, and the European Commission would help Ireland put its house in order.

The Fund mobilized a multinational team headed by Ashoka Mody, an economist specializing in finance (he was succeeded in early 2011 by Craig Beaumont). The team parked itself in the Merrion Hotel in central Dublin, across the street from Government Buildings, the massive Edwardian edifice that houses the Department of Finance and prime minister's offices. Together with the staff from the European Commission and ECB, IMF team members shuttled back and forth for meetings with Irish officials, often working into the early hours of the morning.

The first order of business: stabilize the banking system to restore the confidence needed for the economy to recover, and, in time, resume the flow of credit to companies and households that is the lifeblood of any economy. This is where IMF expertise in previous crises in Latin America and Asia could be brought to bear.
Fixing the banks
"The IMF was in the mix because it had long and deep experience of these kinds of crises and these kinds of programs," said Kevin Cardiff, the secretary general of Ireland's Department of Finance at the time. "We wanted to take advantage of their experience and their technical knowledge."

The Fund recommended an independent assessment to determine the value of the banks' bad loans, and the Irish authorities hired BlackRock Solutions, a unit of the world's largest fund manager. "The point was to identify the size of the hole in the banking system, so that measures could be taken to fill that hole and then move on," said Ajai Chopra, who supervised the program as deputy director of the IMF's European Department.

It would take another 24 billion euros to fill the hole. Banks were merged and their staffing reduced; over time they sold assets to be more in line with their deposits. The two nationalized banks were wound down and then liquidated, and a National Asset Management Agency was tasked to recover large commercial property loans; some 30.2 billion euro of the senior debt was issued to banks for those loans, which the agency redeemed by the end of 2017, three years ahead of schedule. The two major banks that emerged from the ruins, Bank of Ireland and Allied Irish Bank, returned to profitability in 2013 and 2014.

There were numerous complex issues, like dealing with more than 100,000 borrowers who had gone into arrears on their mortgages. Ireland had little experience modifying loans or collecting debts, because in the past, "everyone just paid," Beaumont said. The Fund brought in experts from Norway and the United States, including a bankruptcy judge from Las Vegas, to offer advice. A new bankruptcy law was needed to make the process less punitive and to promote out-of-court agreements, while the banks needed to upgrade their resources and skills in the area. It took time, but arrears stopped rising by mid-2013, loan restructurings took off in 2013-15, and the number with arrears is down by almost half.
Painful adjustment
The second big task was to put the country's public finances in order. Already, for three years before the EU-IMF program, the Irish government had been taking difficult measures, including a 14 percent cut in public-sector wages in 2009. These savings added up to 6.2 percent of GDP from 2008 to 2010, but the remained much too high.

Ahead of the discussions with the troika, the government set out a detailed plan to reduce the budget deficit from 2011 to 2014. The challenge would be to do that while maintaining essential services and shielding the poor.

Irish leaders "knew what the political constraints were, so they could choose the appropriate measures," Chopra said. "Our role ended up being to tell them what the implications of certain measures might be, how it might affect distribution, how it might affect equality, and things like that, but the choice had to be theirs."

Fiscal measures included increases in the value-added tax and carbon and motor vehicle taxes, the introduction of the Universal Social Charge (a supplementary personal income tax), reductions in the number of public servants, and savings in capital spending. Together, these steps amounted to 8 percent of GDP, two-thirds on the spending side. Gaining public support for such painful measures was critical. The government succeeded in preserving most welfare spending, which provided an important cushion against the worst effects of the crisis. Members of the IMF team held frequent press conferences and met with union leaders, opposition politicians and non-governmental organizations.

"They captured the confidence of the nation to a surprising extent," Honohan said. "They spoke plainly, sensitively and directly. And people said, 'Ah, these guys are actually here to help us.'"

By the end of 2012, the second year of the program, the Irish economy began to turn around, though it wasn't obvious at the time. Firms started hiring and investing and unemployment slowly began to decline. The government tiptoed back into the financial markets, selling some short-term notes in mid-2012 as interest rates subsided, moving to bond issues later that year. Home prices in Dublin started to recover.

Hanaphy, the builder, moved back home from Australia in early 2015. Two years later, he was employing 14 people on a 700,000-euro construction contract, his biggest ever. His mortgage was paid, and he planned to marry his sweetheart when he had enough money saved.

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Ireland's housing market was booming, and Sean Hanaphy was riding high. He had left college in 2005 to join his father's bricklaying business and was pulling down 80,000 euro a year. He bought an investment property with a friend, counting on a quick profit. Suddenly, in September 2008, the bottom fell out.

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Professional discussions on the intersections of love and relgion

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Love is central to our lives, and so is religion to many. How are they related? Can we separate love from religion? The answer depends on our fundamental thoughts about our existence.

If we believe that we were created by God-whatever our understanding of God may be-then love might be viewed as a divine gift. Alternatively, we may interpret love as an evolutionarily important physiological phenomenon. It is not helpful to argue our opinion regarding the validity of these views or attempt to discredit either one. People find comfort in both, and our failure to accept others' existential beliefs is an ongoing, major obstacle to peaceful coexistence.

Undoubtedly, we are all born with a capacity to love. This capacity likely varies in each person, but it is inherent in all. We are also born with numerous self-serving instincts that conflict with our impulse to love. This dynamic, the quintessential yin and yang, will remain a lifelong challenge, and it critically influences our success with relationships, including romantic love.

Concepts of boosting love (and happiness) in our lives emphasize the need to control these competing drives. Similarly, the major world religions almost invariably ask for humility and selflessness in the quest for spiritual enlightenment and/or in following the path of God. As is the case with love, religion emphasizes devotion and effort as vital elements to success. When Jesus asks us to love our enemies, he illustrates what an enormous challenge we are facing. Not surprisingly, in daily life, we often succumb to our egotistical urges and don't succeed with either-love or enlightenment.

Few of us are aiming for sainthood, and we don't necessarily have to live in a monastery to find internal peace and happiness. However, the general balance of love vs. egotism in everything we do appears heavily tilted towards the latter. Why else do we struggle with poverty, racism, misogyny, discrimination, etc. and find acts of true selflessness remarkable in our society?

Every thought or deed is motivated by love or self-serving (mostly subconscious) drives. The challenge is to make ourselves aware of our choices and achieve a balance which works for our life and for society.

For thousands of years, religion has been an option for helping us with the challenge of achieving this balance. Most religions provide a framework of rules which foster loving-kindness towards others and restrain egotism. Through community organization, education, and regular praying sessions, members receive guidance and training in-essentially-being loving.

Undoubtedly, religious organizations have been successful in guiding many people toward kinder ways of interacting and in establishing purpose, happiness, and inner peace for their members. On the other hand, religions may not be helpful-and may even be detrimental-if their teachings are not adequately followed or are misunderstood. Unfortunately, throughout history into present-day life, there are examples of horrific deeds that have been carried out in the name of various religions.

That's generally not the fault of the religions-they almost invariably teach acceptance and loving-kindness towards others-it's the failure of the individual to adhere to (or to understand fully) the religions' teachings. Harming or discriminating against others is against the core principles of all major religions. Once formed, however, religions (like any other social institution) develop dynamics shaped by some in the pursuit of power and influence, which challenge both foundational concepts and the intentions of religions.

The development of a group, by definition, involves distinguishing that group from other groups, posing additional challenges, e.g., followers of different religions fighting over which is the "better" faith or "true" god. Religions also come with a worldview established centuries ago that may not appear accurate to current generations, which may explain the decline in members in many parts of the world.

At the end of the day, it's each person's choice whether and what input she/he requires for moral or spiritual guidance. Given the described internal challenges we all face, some type of guidance is helpful to most of us.

On the one hand, religion provides the convenience of an established structure with an included support community that helps many working toward the goal of being loving. Others, however, prefer acquiring secular direction and support. Secular options are plentiful and allow for individualization, but may not include the comfort of large, worldwide communities.

We need to find out what works best for us-what matters are the results. If we claim to believe in love and/or religion but act unkindly, we achieve the goal of neither (and are untrue to the core concepts of both). Love (as an independent phenomenon), just as religion, asks us to accept each person's choice and to resist the notion to impose our view on others. Since both religious and secular paths can lead to a respectful, loving attitude toward others, the purpose of peaceful coexistence can be served through either approach-as long we truly apply it.

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"I Wake Close to Morning" by Mary Oliver

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Phoebe Waller-Bridge's Fleabag and its themes of religion and relationships

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As some of you may know, I am currently writing a book for the Theology and Pop Culture Series entitled Theology and The Americans. Because of this, I'm binge watching the series (more than normal). After finishing the sixth season, I took a break from The Americans this week to catch up on some new releases on Amazon Prime. Amongst these was a British gem that is garnering steam, season 2 of Fleabag. Much of the recent attention seems to be surrounding Phoebe Waller-Bridge's use of the fourth wall, which diverges from most television. It has been a while since the first season was released (2016), so I honestly didn't remember as much as I would have liked, but it didn't matter too much; I was watching purely for entertainment. I never dreamed a blog entry on Fleabag and theology might come out of it, but here I am.

Season 2 starts out with Fleabag and her family eating dinner out along with a new special guest, played by Andrew Scott, of Sherlock fame. Personally, after viewing his portrayal of Jim Moriarty, I'd watch him in almost anything. Scott does not disappoint as the not-so orthodox priest who Fleabag, played by Phoebe Waller-Bridge, falls in love with. He is set to perform the ceremony to marry Fleabag's father and Godmother. Without spending time on the usual family interplay, I'd like to focus this piece on three major themes: Fleabag's relationship with The Priest, her relationship with religion, and love. For the latter it might be best to look at it as three topics: eros, philia, and agape, as the show explores the complexity love in a way beyond what the English language allows.

We find that The Priest has come to the ministry later in life, and has clearly enjoyed some of the more carnal parts of the world. He likes to drink and curse and it's intimated (well, stated in episode 3) that he's enjoyed his fair share of sex. Fleabag describes him early on in Episode 1 as "Their cool, sweary priest." She even asks him, "Are you a real priest?" She may in part be asking for the viewer, as he is so unexpected. What is clear is that he has a strong belief in God and that his commitment is to his vows with the Roman Catholic Church. The choice to make him a Catholic priest rather than an Anglican one is interesting to me, and points to the underlying conflict set up between organized religion (represented by the largest organized denomination in Christianity) and the atheism of Fleabag. There is clear chemistry between the two and the arc of the show is set up around whether he will give in to her and sleep with her, or if she will find some sort of deeper meaning through the desire to have something she cannot. Spoiler alert: both end up being true.

To bring things back to The Priest, we see a character who has finally figured out his life's calling and found peace in a way that his previous carnal lifestyle did not. He fits the mold of true dedication, while deviating from what one would expect from a pious individual. He lets us know someone can be both devout in his or her faith and a bit unorthodox in the way he or she follows religion. He makes this clear when he sleeps with Fleabag, and admits he loves her. At the same time, in the finale he states, "It'll pass" when she admits that she loves him, a life changing revelation for Fleabag. It's also notable that when Fleabag does go to the fourth wall in front of The Priest, he will ask her about it. This happens several times. He can see something about her that no one else can. This is an important insight into both his bond with her and her relationship with the audience. The world she lives in is a foreign world to her, with the viewer and The Priest in her world. This is also is hinted at by the fact that many of the characters in the show do not have proper names, i.e. The Priest, Godmother, etc. The fact that he is somehow inside this world, or at least straddling it, gives us insight into their bond and both of their identities. Theologically, identity is a crucial concept, not just in relating to in-group and out-group dynamics of religion, but also in Christianity. To be identified with Christ is the basis of many soteriological systems. The Priest finds his identity with the Church, but she is challenging that identity. Her identity is found outside the narrative (to some degree), which is also being challenged.

Second, we see religion in general under the microscope. There are multiple portrayals of the Christian faith. The Priest brings her to a Quaker meeting where Fleabag is compelled to admit, "I sometimes worry that I wouldn't be such a feminist if I had bigger t***" (Episode 4). This elicits a laugh from The Priest, both establishing their friendship and his unorthodox behavior. As she rises to speak, seemingly against her will, she speaks to us through the fourth wall, again establishing our close relationship to her. We also see traditional Catholicism in the painting of Christ that falls to get The Priest's attention, most notably when he starts to get extremely amorous with Fleabag in the confessional. Additionally, we see the usual joke regarding celibacy (Episode 1), though it does set up the ultimate conflict of the season. Although the specifics are interesting, the broader challenge of how Fleabag struggles with the journey of faith (or non-faith) is more interesting. In fact, the first episode sets us up for what is to come in an unexpected way. Fleabag states, "Maybe happiness isn't in what you believe, but who you believe."

Episode 2 opens with Fleabag in church, an unexpected place for her. Her interaction with standard religious artifacts like Bibles (she smells one), and art (she stares awkwardly at it sometimes), helps to give the viewer an outsider's view of church. Religion is treated in a way that gives us both an outsider view (Fleabag) and insider view (The Priest), but these aren't polar opposites. They're two sides of the same coin. In essence, they come from the same place, but have landed on very different paths. This is clear from their interaction at the end of Episode 3. This changes quickly as things reach a climax at the end of Episode 4, where she is in church, trying to pray and is disrupted by The Priest's rap music. This ultimately culminates in confession and then an attempt at sex stopped by the painting (Time for me to break the fourth wall: that's a sentence order you don't typically see in theological discussion). Their exchange about confession gives a concise portrayal of both the skeptic's and the Roman Catholic view of the confessional. Her reply, "Sounds dodgy" encapsulates the trepidation that many non-Catholics have in entering this sacrament (Fourth wall full disclosure: I am not Roman Catholic). In the confessional, she comes to admit her wish to be told what to do. She states, "I want someone to tell me what to believe in." She shares her inner fears in a way that lays out her inner conflict. She ultimately does not find the answer in God, but she contemplates it. It is rare in television shows to see this raw struggle with religion.

There is also the seemingly odd imagery of the fox. The Priest states that foxes have been after him for years (Episode 3), but we don't see one until the last scene, where one appears to Fleabag. Although it is a great comedic device, it also may be symbolic. When Fleabag brings up celibacy in Episode 3, he jumps up about a fox. It could be representing the temptation of Fleabag.

Third, there's love. Fleabag tells us almost immediately in Episode 1 that "This is a love story." Fleabag portrays love in a way that is raw and direct, one that is misunderstood in both culture and communities of faith. The priest is self-admitted "really f**king lonely," despite his strong commitment to the Church (Episode 1). As I mentioned previously there are three levels to the love presented to us in this episode: Eros - the sexual desire that Fleabag and The Priest feel for each other, Philia - The friendship that bonds the two of them, and Agape - the true love they feel for one another in a way that must remain unfulfilled.

Eros is clearly the driving theme for Fleabag, at least initially, with her unexpectedly showing up at church in Episode 2. This is followed up with an internet search for terms beginning with "catholic priest sex," resulting in celibacy results, and ending with "what happens when a priest has sex" with the results hidden from the viewer. Only a look from Fleabag gives us the answer. Fleabag uses sex to fill a void. She tells us as much in the therapist's office in Episode 2, but also states that she doesn't do it anymore. We see this struggle in her relationship with the priest. She is avoiding (or pretending to avoid) giving in to sexual desire, not realizing the depth that is soon to be established in the relationship. She, in fact, denies her love for the priest with a chuckle. The therapist poses the initial key question for Fleabag: "Do you really want to f**k the priest or do you want to f**k God?" It brings us right to the core of human struggle with faith. The move from eros (end of Episode 1) to philia (end of Episode 3) to agape (end of Episode 6) for Fleabag is clearly shown to us in the arc of the season. In a rewatch, it is almost impossible to miss. The Priest even gives us an exposition on the messiness of love in the final episode. He includes a description of where we should put love, bringing this arc to a climax shown a few minutes later in the final scene at the bus stop.

This essay ended up longer than I had anticipated with yet more to say. There are the repeated flashbacks to Fleabag's mother's funeral and Boo. These are a continual look back to her connection to self and relationship. There is the timing of the raised music throughout the series. In the end, many will find this show irreverent while others find it overly religious, but it is exactly the kind of comedic social commentary we need on religion in popular culture. It is not fair to write a piece on theology and popular culture for this show, because the show itself is theology and pop culture. It treats issues of love, self, and relationship in a way that is honest and introspective. Those who hold to theological ideals should embrace this kind of honesty, whether they agree with the implied conclusions or not. It isn't for everyone, but Fleabag, season 2 is a piece of culture that will give us theological pause for many years to come.

*Additional Note: As a comedic side note, after all, this is a comedy, I love the line by Andrew Scott in Episode 4, "Sometimes I worry I'm only in it for the outfits." It is reminiscent of George Costanza's answer of "the hats" when asked what attracted him to Latvian Orthodoxy. There's also the fact that The Priest's brother is a pedophile, and he is "aware of the irony of that." (Episode 1)

Dr. George Tsakiridis is a Lecturer of Philosophy and Religion at South Dakota State University. He is currently writing Theology and The Americans for the Theology and Pop Culture Book Series, and does research in religion in science in dialogue with early Christianity. George is also is involved with discussions on the ethics of technology and is co-host of the podcast Cheers Weekly, an episode-by-episode podcast on the TV show Cheers. He is also starting to rewatch Sherlock thanks to Andrew Scott's appearance in Fleabag, Season 2.

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By George Tsakiridis As some of you may know, I am currently writing a book for the Theology and Pop Culture Series entitled Theology and The Americans. Because of this, I'm binge watching the series (more than normal). After finishing the sixth season, I took a break from The Americans this week to catch up on...

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"The Remains of the Day" - Additional Connection #2

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"The Remains of the Day" - Additional Connection #2

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Kazuo Ishiguro's novel, The Remains of the Day

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I found it significant in a number of ways. Most obviously, it showed Stevens suffering from the British class distinctions. We hadn't seen that beforI found it significant in a number of ways. Most obviously, it showed Stevens suffering from the British class distinctions. We hadn't seen that before, because he seemed to take such pride in trying to be the best possible member of his "profession." The Dr's question showed that he saw through what the villagers appeared not to--that Stevens wasn't of the aristocratic class. And although Stevens says he was made extremely uncomfortable by the villagers' misunderstanding his social status, I think he secretly enjoyed being thought a very important person--someone who had met Churchill and Eden and Halifax. It's no accident that after that evening's festivities, he recalls that horrible incident when Darlington and his cronies made a mockery of Stevens to his face. Second, it shows Stevens being exposed to 2 new perspectives on "dignity," neither of which entails the extreme emotional constriction central to Stevens's view of it. I think these new perspectives on dignity might have made a bit of a dent in Stevens's, which is going to be very important in the end. Third, Harry Smith's view of dignity, in conjunction with these experiences and memories regarding class, contributes, I think, to Stevens's finally confronting the fact that Lord Darlington's life and work were "at best, a sad waste." Janet Janet Landman...more (less)

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I found it significant in a number of ways. Most obviously, it showed Stevens suffering from the British class distinctions. We hadn't seen that beforI found it significant in a number of ways. Most obviously, it showed Stevens suffering from the British class distinctions.

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Ibtisam Sadegh on Love and Religion

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Marrying love and religion. | Ibtisam Sadegh | TEDxUniversityofMalta

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The story of Isaac and Rebekah