VSUriosity will likely bring many readers to Emily Gould’s debut novel, Friendship. Gould has gained some level of Internet notoriety (neterie?) One of the two main characters in Friendship, Amy works as a writer for Yidster (“the third most popular online destination for cultural coverage with a modern Jewish angle”), where she chooses “a few articles from other blogs every day for [her employees] to, uh, re-imagine “and work at the whim of a wealthy dilettante man who has no idea how blogs are supposed to work. laundry for years.

But a keyed-up novel cannot go further than out of curiosity. There was interest in The latest magazine, the novel about culture magazine written by the late News week investigative reporter Michael Hastings, until the first people to get their hands on the book realized it had little to offer other than thinly veiled media gossip. Fortunately, Gould is not interested in making her novel revealing; Yidster is summarily fired at the start of the book, after a misguided foray into vlogging is interrupted by a sudden outburst of unusual dignity from Amy.

Friendship is interested, almost resolutely, in the friendship between Amy and her friend Bev, two women who are discovering that the lives of 30-year-old women in New York are very different from what they were in their twenties. one-year-old women in New York. The poverty gained by a career in the publishing industry is no longer charming or noble; the chain of half-silly relationships doesn’t seem very romantic anymore.

Amy and Bev move down the ladder of success together, becoming more and more undesirable to potential employers with each passing day. And then one of them makes a choice that throws her squarely into adulthood, and the fantasy they’ve built together of two young women against the big city turns around and dies in one fell swoop. Friendship is refreshing in part because he’s not at all interested in the men in Amy and Bev’s lives; they are fuzzy figures, pushed to the periphery to marinate in their monstrous desires or their insipid hopes of commitment. They are not badly sketched – they hardly matter to women, and therefore they hardly matter to us.

Gould’s prose is not particularly ornate or interested in reflection. She tends towards short, declarative sentences, and she trusts emotion to seep between nouns and simple verbs. Friendship is a positive step in Gould’s development as a writer; the leap from non-fiction to fiction gave him permission to embrace a seriousness that had previously eluded him. Corn Friendship looks like the final statement of Gould’s thesis in a certain perspective; it would be a pleasure to read about her future endeavors stretching even further from her skin, entirely away from the relative safety of blogging, New York, and youth. advised