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In his 2009 novel, Brooklyn, the protagonist soon moves away from Enniscorthy, a place of barely 9,000 inhabitants to Brooklyn, NY. But, even here, this character is torn between two worlds and in the end must make the decision of where her loyalties finally must lead her. In Tóibín's most recent short story volume, The Empty Family, the emotional tearing between physical place and belonging is just as strong as in Brooklyn, as is a sense of melancholy that always hovers in the background of his stories. Whether this is part of Tóibín's own nature is not quite clear, though one supposes so.

In the nine stories of The Empty Family any joy or exuberance rest mostly below the surface. Tóibín's prose is, as one expects it to be, deceptively simple, yet it holds a punch that makes reading these stories an adventure.

Just how much autobiographical moments are contained in these stories we'll never know, but there is no doubt that he has woven his own experiences into them. The opening story of this nine-story volume, One Minus One, is a tale of denial that begins in Texas and ends in New York. In between, the narrator takes the reader on the inner journey of a man who speaks in his mind to a friend, indeed, lover, who is lost to him. It is the sixth anniversary of his mother's death in Ireland, and his former friend who lives in a time zone six hours away from him. "If I called, I could go over everything that happened six years ago. Because that is what is on my mind tonight, as though no time had elapsed, as though the strength of the moonlight had by some fierce magic chosen tonight to carry me back to the last real thing that happened to me." What a painful statement to make about one's existence.

Tóibín does something in this story about loneliness, loss as well as displacement that few male writers seem to do. He expresses the narrator's love for his mother even though she never seemed to have wanted him. He does so with simplicity and with an ache that grabs the reader: "I was back then in the simple world . . . a world in which someone whose heartbeat had once been mine, and whose blood became my blood, and inside whose body I once curled . . ." These thoughts came to him on the flight back to Ireland to see his ailing mother and to be with her as she dies. Each line of this story contains regrets for failing to keep in more frequent touch and yet knowing that it would not have made much difference. There is also the regret of not have asked more questions about the past, yet knowing the answers may not have come. Perhaps this is a human condition that inhabits most adults faced with the death of elderly parents. If only, if only . . . !

While most of the stories are set in Ireland or partly in Ireland, there are three set in Spain: The New Spain, Barcelona, 1975 and The Street. The first is about a young woman returning to Spain to take possession of a house she inherited from her grandmother. It lays bare the conflicts she has with her family that remain unresolved. The second is about gay sex, perhaps reflecting Tóibín's own experiences during the time he spent in Barcelona, and the third, the final in the book and perhaps its most sticky, is about the experiences of a young illegal Pakistani and his eventual homosexual relationship with another illegal. While touching, even poignant it seems removed from Tóibín's own world and so seems a bit unreal, or shall one say, almost sentimental.

While I like all of the stories, some more and some less, I find that it would have been better if the author had refrained from the too explicit descriptions of homosexual sex. Let's face it, we all know he is gay. One wonders if for some reason he wants to shock. The question is whom? To be honest few sex scenes, either homo or hetero, ever come off well. Besides, such scenes destroy the otherwise subtle and simple, even elegant prose with which Tóibín's writing is generally infused. But, given his gift of drawing the reader into his stories, this is a minor irritation, although for some readers it may be a complete put-off. So, be forewarned.