Embracing the Complexity of Relationships: A Review of Happiness and Love by Zoe Dubno
When I first dove into Happiness and Love, the debut novel by Zoe Dubno, I was immediately captivated by its opening lines. The protagonist’s uncomfortable observation at a high-society gathering transported me into the tangled web of friendships, artistic pretensions, and the bittersweet memories of a departed friend. As I settled into Dubno’s evocative prose, I felt an uncanny familiarity pulse through the narrative—one that explores the intricate dance of human relationships amid art and loss.
Set against the backdrop of a lavish New York art scene, Happiness and Love follows an unnamed female narrator who returns after years of self-imposed exile. Her homecoming is not celebratory; it’s bittersweet, marked by the overdose of her friend Rebecca. As she navigates a party hosted by the self-involved Eugene and Nicole—a couple whose artistic flair feels more performative than genuine—the sentiments of longing and regret weave through the text. The story artfully mirrors themes found in Bernhard’s The Woodcutters, yet it stands firmly on its own two feet, enriching the reader’s experience.
Dubno’s writing strikes a balance between cutting satire and affectionate introspection. As the narrator surveys her former acquaintances, she teases apart their pretensions, confronting the artistic commodification rampant among the elite. One particularly striking moment occurs when she remarks on how the privileged distort art into mere trophies, reducing meaningful works to mere embellishments of their wealth: “In this way, the rich… ruin it for all who attempt to enjoy the piece.” This sentiment resonated with me, as it speaks to the disconnect between true artistry and the narratives constructed by those who possess it.
As I read, I found myself highlighting passages with fervor—Dubno’s keen observations often cut deeper than the surface. For instance, her exploration of the “Nestbeschmutzer” dynamic, where the child of a celebrated artist grapples with the shadow of their parent’s legacy, left me reflecting on my own artistic endeavors and how they are shaped by expectation. “But perhaps the most difficult option for the child of the great artist is to become a Nestbeschmutzer,” she notes, a phrase filled with understanding and complexity.
The cast of characters further amplifies the narrative’s richness. From the vapid conceptual artist who confuses motherhood with performance art to the socially awkward Alexander, whose sarcasm is only a mask for deeper insecurities, each figure adds layers to the protagonist’s disillusionment. Dubno handles their interactions with a deft touch—there’s an underlying tension that hints at both affection and disdain, making every scene feel alive and charged.
In conclusion, Happiness and Love is a poignant exploration of friendship, artistic identity, and the complexities of returning to one’s roots. It’s a book for those who appreciate a blend of sharp wit and emotional depth—think lovers of contemporary literary fiction and fans of nuanced character studies. Personally, it left me pondering my own relationships and the balance of love and criticism we often navigate. Zoe Dubno’s debut is a commendable journey that expertly captures the tangled emotions we face when confronted with the past—and that, to me, is a testament to its significance.