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I read Dolly Alderton’s tender and funny second novel Good Material nearly two years ago and I am still thinking about it. She takes the classic and beloved romcom concept and turns it on its head, giving readers an intimate and at times cringey look into the ripple effects a breakup can have on a couple.

For most of the novel, our narrator, Andy, 35 and seemingly lost, tells us his side of the story. According to him, his soulmate, Jen, broke up with him out of nowhere, and, for the life of him, he cannot figure out why. He writes lists, endlessly goes over the details of their separation with anyone who will listen, seeks therapy under a fake name, all the while existing in this purgatory of his mid-thirties. He hilariously tries to live on a houseboat, then even more hilariously moves in with an elderly conspiracy theorist obsessed with Julian Assange and George Harrison. He dates a much younger woman, and crashes and burns. Andy never quite demonizes Jen—it’s clear in the writing that he loves her and probably always will—but the reader is left confused and a little sorry for Andy. Despite his pitfalls, he seems like a pretty good guy, so why’d she dump him? Then, Dolly does something brilliant. She twists the narrative and dedicates the last quarter of the book to Jen’s perspective. Finally, we get her side of the story, and in her own words. I won’t ruin it for you, because it really is worth a read, but all I’ll say is that it’s satisfying, and ultimately, it just makes sense.

As a millennial, (I know, you can roll your eyes if you want to, but alas, that’s what I am) Andy and Jen’s story really resonated with me. I was the same age as them when I read the book, I knew and understood the references they were making, the confusing in-between status of their lives. When our parents were in their mid-thirties, most of them owned homes, had children, were living that “adult” life. For our generation, it’s much more grey. Sure, there are millennials who are married, own homes, have kids (guilty as charged), but more and more, others are taking their time to figure out their place in the world. It really feels like our generation has largely rejected the idea that adult life is work a just okay job—>get married—>buy a house—>have kids, and I love seeing Andy and Jen explore and shape their futures during the course of the novel. I felt like I knew Andy and Jen, that I’d dated an Andy, was maybe a little bit of a Jen, could identify with their friends, etcetera, etcetera.

Good Material is probably going to turn into a comfort read for me, something I’ll likely turn to when I want to feel some warmth, laugh a little, cry a little. Dolly’s writing feels like losing time over a bottle of wine with a close friend. I can’t wait to read more.