This short novella by William Trevor, Love and Summer, is something to read for a sense of place, Rathmoye, Ireland, rather than for an erotic romp, because the "affair" between Ellie and Florian doesn't seem to last a summer, but only as long as it takes to read the book. Ellie is a foundling, sent by the nuns to be a housekeeper to a widowed farmer. She eventually marries Dillahan and settles into her place in the small, isolated village, selling eggs and buttermilk and pedaling her bicycle down country lanes.
The town is so sparsely populated and everyone more or less content in their own sphere that a stranger draws attention when he photographs the funeral of one of the leading citizens, the owner of the inn and pub. Florian is merely idling until he emigrates after selling off his parents estate house, dabbling in photography because he does not possess the artistic talents or brio of his father and Italian mother, and pining for his first love cousin Isabella. Ellie's attraction to him seems more a teenage curiosity, a need to experience a fuller array of masculinity given her cloistered upbringing. Trevor is a master in succinctly conveying this innocence, saying Ellie had never seen a man shave.
Knowing the town has eyes and ears, they manage to see each other only in nearby but remote tourist tea rooms and amongst the "ruins." Florian never regards Ellie as more than a dalliance; Ellie imagines she would leave Ireland with him, going as far as buying a case for her bicycle to carry her meager possessions.
There is a similar theme as that found in The Reliable Wife: a widower who feels himself guiltily marked by his community, penitent and so intent on beginning a new marriage that he will not imagine the consequences of the rambling tale of the town's "mad man."
The denouement is quiet, emphasizing the worth of a community that is contained, comfortable and consoling. Trevor concludes from such stability comes strength, never sensuality.
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