HEY, ZOEY

When London schoolteacher Dolores O’Shea finds her husband’s sex doll in the garage, a neatly organized life begins to crumble.

It takes a long time to realize this book is not really a comedy, because Crossan is a wonderfully funny writer. In the narrator’s first interaction with Tessa Winters, a troubled student whose problems escalate throughout the novel, we learn that Tessa’s cousin Neil, now in prison, buried his girlfriend alive in a big suitcase, but forgot to take off her Apple watch—so she called her mom from the grave. A few pages later, a childhood recollection: Dolores (nicknamed Doughy and, even more worrisomely, Dolly) and her sister, Jacinta, fought so hard over a doll that they pulled her head off, then played separately with the two parts until their mother reattached the head, saying, “You can forget about a hamster.” And while Zoey the sex doll does provide plenty of absurd humor—Crossan has imagined her AI responses so brilliantly it hurts—she plays a much more profound role in what is ultimately a moving, troubling, even heartbreaking book. After Dolores confronts her anesthesiologist (of course he is!) husband about the doll, and he responds by packing up and moving out without a word, Zoey becomes Dolores’ best friend. She buys her fancy size 4 espadrilles, gives her magazines to read and vegan cooking shows to watch, and struggles to leave her behind when she goes to visit her troubled sister in New York. Every part of this book is brilliantly constructed to reflect a different aspect of the central problem, which is numbness, and also something that happened in the girls’ childhood that takes the whole novel to emerge. Crossan is well known both here and across the Atlantic as a YA writer, and her second adult novel firmly places her in a group with Sally Rooney, Caroline O’Donoghue, Doireann Ní Ghríofa, and Eimear McBride, millennial Irish women writers we love.

Extremely easy to read and equally hard to forget.