[In Summer,] several more or less unsettled Irish couples turned up on a Dublin hillside, to ruminate, reminisce, dream and vaguely consider the way things were going over a period of years in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Some were afraid of death. Others were afraid of life. A few were afraid of love. And the generally rueful sub-Chekhovian mood was not without its charms, humour and honesty of observation. But nothing ever came to a dramatic head; which may have been the author's point. If so, the structure of this intelligent and sensitive conversation piece was undermined by its own theme of … emotional cowardice. (p. 81)