Engaging with Zoe Dubno’s Happiness and Love: A Journey through the Roiling Seas of Art and Friendship
From the moment I delved into Zoe Dubno’s brilliant debut novel, Happiness and Love, I was instantly hooked. The opening lines grip you fiercely: “While everyone was waiting for the actress to arrive from her premiere, I sat in the corner seat of the white linen sofa at Eugene’s…” What a way to set the stage! Dubno captures not just a moment but a swirling chaos of emotions borne from loss and social discomfort, something I think many of us have felt in one form or another.
At its heart, Happiness and Love revolves around the unnamed narrator’s return to New York after years spent in London, only to confront past friendships, heartbreak, and the shadow of their late friend Rebecca. The setting is poignant: a dinner party meant to honor Rebecca but ironically teeming with the kind of pretentiousness she surely detested. Dubno’s characters are vividly drawn, notably Eugene and Nicole, a wealthy couple whose art ambitions feel more like a masquerade than a genuine exploration of creativity.
Dubno’s narrative flows with a keen observational quality, reminiscent of Thomas Bernhard’s The Woodcutters, which is referenced throughout. However, Dubno is not simply rewriting Bernhard—she creates her own tapestry woven with personal insights and profound reflections on art, privilege, and the sheer absurdity of socializing in such spaces. As the narrator sits back, analyzing the other guests with razor-sharp prose, I found myself empathizing with her cynicism, yet also appreciating the hidden affection lurking beneath her caustic remarks.
One of the striking aspects of this novel is Dubno’s ability to weave humor and poignancy together beautifully. She highlights the often comedic absurdity in social situations. For instance, Nicole’s fixation on the correct pronunciation of an artist’s name speaks volumes about the superficiality that can plague the art world: “In this way the rich, through their ownership of art, not only soil the piece for themselves…but also ruin it for all who attempt to enjoy the piece.” How many of us have encountered similar characters at art events, choosing prestige over genuine appreciation?
There are also passages that resonate deeply, such as the musings on the difficulties faced by the children of great artists and the thematic exploration of failure that all creatives grapple with. The sentiment that “the most difficult option for the child of the great artist is to become a Nestbeschmutzer” struck a chord with me—it encapsulates a universal struggle of forging our own identities against established legacies.
Dubno’s writing style is both sharply observant and richly descriptive, making every scene feel vibrant and alive. She captures the subtle art of dialogue, the electricity of social interaction, and even the discomfort of being in a space with those you’d rather avoid. The pacing is engaging, pulling you along from the intimate observations to the larger commentary on life in a modern world where art can feel commodified and hollow.
As I turned the final pages, I was left with a mix of emotions. It’s a novel that invites both critique and affection toward its characters, reflecting the complexity of friendship and hardship. With its sharp wit and insightful commentary, I believe readers who enjoy character-driven narratives and social satire will find joy in Happiness and Love.
Ultimately, it’s a reminder that amidst the chaos, the art we create—be it relationships, careers, or creative projects—deserves both ambition and authenticity. Reading Dubno’s novel was not just an experience but a reflection on my own entanglements with art and connection, enveloping me in warm afterthoughts long after the final line.
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