A Dive into Heartbreak: My Thoughts on Hey, Zoey by Dolores O’Shea
From the moment I stumbled upon Hey, Zoey, I knew I was in for something unique. Dolores O’Shea’s ability to explore the depths of human emotion through the lens of a broken marriage and an AI companion captivated me instantly. It’s not often a book so raw and introspective pulls me in so completely, but trust me when I say it’s worth the journey.
The story follows Dolores, who faces the shattering reality of her marriage when she finds an AI sex doll in her husband’s garage. This moment serves as a catalyst, pushing Dolores to confront her repressed memories and lost emotions. She brings Zoey into her home, and what unfolds is a remarkably complicated and oddly beautiful bond. As I dove deeper into the narrative, I appreciated how Dolores’s relationship with Zoey mirrors her own internal struggles—a reflection of her emptiness and confusion.
What truly struck me was the nuanced portrayal of trauma and self-discovery. O’Shea’s writing style is unlike any I’ve encountered—short, fragmented sentences that pack an emotional punch. The sparse prose added an unsettling beauty to the story, making the reader wrestle with Dolores’s sense of unworthiness. Much like my close friend LitWithLeigh, who refers to this style as “pretentious wanker” writing, I found myself drawn to the challenge it presented, relishing the moments where I had to read between the lines.
As I progressed through the book, I was often left pondering: why does Dolores see herself as unlovable? O’Shea masterfully allows the reader to grapple with these questions rather than providing easy answers, creating a sense of intimacy between Dolores and the reader. The deeper I plunged into her psyche, the more I could empathize with her struggles, recognizing the quiet sadness that lingers beneath the surface of outward appearances.
Some may argue that the AI doll is an unnecessary element in the narrative, including my friend LitWithLeigh; however, I found it integral to the story. Zoey becomes a metaphor for Dolores’s own life—a commentary on how she feels used, stored away, and unable to express true emotions. It’s a haunting reminder of how we sometimes become spectators of our own existence, going through the motions while desperately trying to numb our pain.
The pacing was compelling; it entangles you quickly while allowing the weight of Dolores’s experiences to settle in. The author doesn’t hold your hand throughout the journey, which I found refreshing. It’s about actively engaging with Dolores’s distress and unpacking her emotional baggage alongside her—an emotionally taxing but deeply rewarding experience.
Ultimately, Hey, Zoey is not a feel-good read. It’s a dive into the darker aspects of human relationships and trauma, and as forewarned, it’s laden with heavy themes. If you’re looking for a lighthearted escapade, keep searching, but for readers willing to explore the murky waters of introspective storytelling, this book is a gem.
I wholeheartedly recommend Hey, Zoey to those who appreciate nuanced narratives and don’t shy away from feelings—especially if you’re familiar with the reading tastes of myself and LitWithLeigh. This novel left its mark on me, and I can’t wait to see what O’Shea delivers next.