Pills and Alcohol in Intermezzo: Numbing Grief and Avoidance

Overview of the Motif

In Sally Rooney’s Intermezzo, the repeated pairing of pills and alcohol crystallises a central psychological pattern: Peter Koubek’s attempt to anaesthetise grief. Alprazolam (Xanax) and alcohol recur not as casual habits but as deliberate tools of avoidance, their presence marking moments when his interior pain overwhelms his capacity to function. The motif evolves from functional self-medication into a self-destructive spiral that mirrors his fractured relationships and unresolved mourning for his father.

Literally, the pills are the benzodiazepine Peter takes to settle his nerves before court appearances; the alcohol ranges from whiskey and vodka to wine and pub pints. Together they create a chemical buffer between himself and the “frighteningly unhappy” thoughts that otherwise dominate his mind. The novel traces this substance use across the weeks following the father’s funeral, showing how it escalates from sporadic doses to daily dependence and near-lethal collapse.

Literal Occurrences Across the Narrative

The earliest clear instance appears in Chapter 3 (the chapter labeled 4 in the outline). Peter starts his day with “a milligram of alprazolam” and later, at the university toilet, “swallows another pill with a mouthful of water.” That same evening he buys a bottle of whiskey and a tray of donuts before visiting Naomi. When she asks if he is drunk or on Xanax, he answers “Both,” prompting her exasperated remark that he is not supposed to mix them. This exchange establishes the motif’s dangerous core: Peter knowingly combines substances despite the risk.

The pattern intensifies. In Chapter 11 Peter collects Sylvia’s prescriptions, but his own consumption remains constant. In Chapter 13, after a night with Naomi, he “tosses back without tasting two pills” and heads to a pub, adding vodka shots to his earlier intake. By Chapter 15, grief and guilt have become so acute that he decants vodka into a lemonade bottle on a train platform, drinking before visiting his mother, and the internal monologue drifts toward suicidal ideation. The climax comes in Chapter 17 when Peter stumbles home hungover, rain-soaked, and faints before Naomi and Sylvia; his collapse is attributed to dehydration, alcohol, and probably withdrawal, underlining the physical toll of the motif.

How the Symbol’s Meaning Evolves

At first, the pills and alcohol promise a false solution: they allow Peter to perform competence. After his morning alprazolam, “thoughts grow orderly and sequential,” enabling him to dominate the courtroom. The chemical high grants a “clear luminous certainty” that masks the chaos beneath. Yet the relief is always temporary. When the drug wears off, the “futile rage at nothing” returns, and the evening drinking restarts the cycle.

As the novel progresses, the substances lose even their functional edge. They become an end in themselves—a way to escape not only grief but also the guilt of having failed Sylvia, the shame of his relationship with Naomi, and the estrangement from Ivan. The thinking shifts from “I need this to get through the day” to a near-suicidal logic: “Down the bottle, finish a sheet of pills, and what else.” The motif transforms from a coping mechanism into a self-annihilating force, mirroring Peter’s belief that his existence is an embarrassment.

Character and Theme Connections

Peter Koubek is the primary vehicle for the motif. His consumption is inseparable from his identity as a high-functioning professional and a man unable to sit with sorrow. The pills allow him to maintain the appearance of control while concealing his emotional disintegration. The alcohol, meanwhile, loosens the internal restraints and reveals the raw, self-hating thoughts he otherwise suppresses.

Naomi functions as a witness and occasional critic. She notices his Xanax use, calls out the danger of mixing, and teases him about it, but she also relies on him financially and emotionally. Her presence in the same drug- and alcohol-soaked scenes (the kitchen party, the bedroom) highlights how his self-medication is woven into their dysfunctional intimacy. When she later joins Sylvia in caring for him after his collapse, the two women become unintended caregivers, underlining how the motif drags others into its orbit.

Sylvia is indirectly connected through her own medical needs. Peter picks up her prescriptions and witnesses her physical suffering, which fuels his guilt. While she does not use alcohol or unprescribed pills, her chronic pain stands as a parallel of unending ache that cannot be numbed—a contrast that amplifies Peter’s futile attempts to erase his own distress.

The motif also illuminates the theme of grief and loss. Peter’s father’s death is the raw wound the substances try to dress, but they only postpone mourning. His internal monologue during drinking binges returns obsessively to memories of the funeral, the oncologist appointments, and his own earlier rage at the dying man. The pills do not permit processing; they simply silence the questions, leaving grief unresolved.

Mental health and vulnerability is directly implicated. Peter’s borderline suicidal ideation—“I wish I was dead”—floats to the surface precisely when alcohol dissolves his defences. The novel presents the substances not as flaws but as symptoms of a mind that has no other language for its suffering. The Wittgenstein epigraph that opens the book asks whether one can feel grief while playing chess; Peter substitutes chess with pharmacology, using chemicals to “play” a lucid version of himself while the grief festers.

The motif also exacerbates sibling estrangement. Peter avoids Ivan because facing him would demand confronting the shared loss. Instead, he drinks and takes pills, creating a fog that excuses his neglect. His late-night text to Naomi, his decision to visit his mother while intoxicated—these are evasions that preserve distance between the brothers until the final reconciliation forced by near-tragedy.

Finally, complicated love is entangled with the motif. Peter’s relationships with Naomi and Sylvia thrive on a kind of emotional dishonesty that substances enable. He can be the charming, competent lover with Naomi only because the pills keep his despair at bay; he can sit with Sylvia and feel a nostalgic calm only because the alcohol quiets his guilt. When the substances fail, the love triangle collapses into the moment of crisis in his flat, and a new, more honest arrangement begins.

Study Questions and Answers

1. How does Peter’s use of alprazolam and alcohol reflect his grief over his father’s death?
   Peter takes alprazolam to manage the anxiety that follows his father’s funeral, as seen when he describes the pill’s effect as a “slow serene feeling.” The alcohol, particularly whiskey and vodka, arrives in the evenings when the drug wears off and the emptiness hits. His internal monologue after drinking repeatedly circles back to the death: “I never really got to know him. … It’s sad.” The substances allow him to postpone a full emotional reckoning, turning grief into a diffuse, unexamined ache.

2. In what ways does Naomi’s reaction to Peter’s pill use highlight the destructiveness of his avoidance?
   Naomi immediately recognizes the danger when she asks, “Drunk, or you’re back on the Xanax?” and scolds, “You’re not supposed to do that.” Her matter-of-fact concern frames the mixing as a known risk that Peter disregards. Yet she does not leave; she accepts his presence and even the sexual dynamic that follows. This ambivalence mirrors how his self-medication is woven into their relationship, normalising a self-destructive pattern that both know is harmful.

3. Trace the escalation of Peter’s substance use from the funeral to the climax in his flat. What does this escalation reveal about his mental state?
   Initially, Peter uses a single milligram in the morning to function at work, with social drinking in the evening. By Chapter 13, he pops two pills without tasting them before a pub session, and by Chapter 15, he is decanting vodka to drink on a train, actively contemplating suicide. The progression from controlled medication to impulsive, secretive consumption mirrors his deepening despair and loss of hope. The collapse in the flat—likely from dehydration, exhaustion, and withdrawal—shows that the coping strategy has become a life-threatening crisis.

4. How does the motif of pills and alcohol connect to the novel’s larger theme of language and the failure to express pain?
   The epigraph’s contrast between grief and chess suggests that structured systems can deflect emotional truth. Peter, a man of language and law, finds that rational thought fails to contain his pain. Instead, he turns to substances that impose a chemical order on his mind, “thoughts grow orderly and sequential,” much like a chess game. The pills speak for him when words cannot; they momentarily silence the “frighteningly unhappy” inner voice. His eventual collapse occurs when language and chemicals both break down, forcing him into a wordless, physical surrender that opens the door to genuine connection with Naomi and Sylvia.

For further context, see the full Intermezzo study hub and related pages on Peter Koubek, grief and loss, and mental health and vulnerability.