In my line of work—producing this weekly column and three episodes of my podcast
How Long Gone
Each week, I receive numerous books. Although I enjoy reading, similar to many people, I often end up getting sidetracked, glancing at my phone roughly every eight minutes and constantly updating my Instagram feed, even when the book lies open across my chest, cover facing upwards. This didn’t happen with this particular read though.
Early Thirties
The latest book by Josh Duboff.
Books
Sometimes they grab your interest so strongly that you can’t resist diving into them completely. I am particularly fond of stories about “growing up,” those explorations of the fragile shift from childhood to adulthood, a journey that occurs at various moments for each individual.
Early Thirties
the tale of two companions
New York City
Exploring topics ranging from romance, heartbreak, and termination of pregnancy to struggles with alcohol addiction, battling depression, navigating unpredictable careers, engaging with celebrity culture, and working in journalism—these characters will seem as familiar as individuals you recognize. If you experience even a hint of millennial existential anxiety, these personas might resonate deeply, perhaps mirroring aspects of your own life.
I discussed with Josh topics including capturing a specific era like in “Vanity Fair,” exploring friendship dynamics, and works centered around coming-of-age themes.
:
I love the book—it really captures a specific moment in New York. But it’s also relatable to anyone. The specifics don’t matter, even though that made it great for me.
JOSH DUBOFF:
My dad, who is in his early 70s, read it, and I was curious about his take. He read it early on, and it was nice that even though there’s a lot of New York culture and what’s happening right now in it, my dad could feel like it was something he could understand and relate to.
It’s extremely difficult to accomplish, particularly since this seems so personal. Would you consider that statement appropriate?
Sure, it’s amusing. When I dive into a book, just as you do, knowing details about the writer makes it hard not to view everything through the lens of fact versus fiction. A couple of weeks back, during lunch with someone, they mentioned, “I hadn’t known that such a somber event occurred in your life; I assumed you went through a lengthy two-year relationship”—which actually referred to a character from my novel. That said, I completely understand how easy it is for reality and imagination to blur together.
We likewise compel writers to discuss their own experiences. It’s simple to make assumptions.
Clearly, Victor, one of the principal characters—a gay man in his thirties who works at a magazine—shares many autobiographical parallels. To an extent, I’m inviting this resemblance intentionally. However, what intrigues me is how closely Zoe mirrors my own personality. While they all originate from my imagination, her perspective on life resonates deeply with mine. When it comes to Victor, numerous similarities stand out, particularly his approach to his career. Although nothing aligns perfectly, certain aspects do overlap significantly.
Our preoccupation with the media environment makes it highly relevant. Here, the media acts as a character within the narrative of the book. Similarly, it has become a significant figure in my own story. This connection likely contributes to the book’s appeal among a wider readership—even though part of me questions why, since at times it can seem quite niche.
You resonate with me because we both came of age surrounded by and deeply fascinated by this world and its inhabitants. In the realm of media, even those who are famous grapple with the dichotomy between their public image and their true selves. During my time at Vanity Fair, I noticed this discrepancy frequently among the celebrities I spoke with. The personas they crafted on Instagram, the outfits they displayed during outings for meals, and the statements they made in interviews often clashed oddly with their real personalities. I’m certain you’ve encountered similar dynamics on your podcast; sometimes, despite engaging in conversation, everything doesn’t quite sync up as expected.
Some individuals feel compelled to “hold back a portion” for their own use. They might be advised to follow this approach as well.
Even people who aren’t in any way public-facing still have that, to some degree. This isn’t necessarily a novel point, but we all are trying to figure out how to communicate what our lives are like to the world, and the media industry is a microcosm of all of that.
What was your process? Did you work on this for a long time?
In mid-2019, I departed from Vanity Fair after spending around six and a half years there. My intention was to capture my time at the magazine through written work. Thus, I began crafting personal essays as an exploration of my thoughts. When I shared these with my literary agent, they suggested, “Should we consider turning this into fiction?” However, for me, it didn’t align with how things were swirling in my mind.
It feels as though religion and government are intertwined.
Absolutely. However, I allowed myself this liberty, which liberated me in such an enjoyable manner. It was only then that I recognized how strongly I desired to explore friendship dynamics during my early thirties. This aspect turned out to be just as significant as the subject matter related to the media.
The friendship dynamics during those years in New York City are truly captivating. Everyone leads distinct lifestyles across various income brackets yet frequents the same eateries and watering holes. While some individuals juggle employment, others haven’t experienced traditional work routines. These social venues surprisingly level the playing field for everyone involved. Throughout this period, I’ve had moments of financial comfort and times when finances weren’t as abundant. However, for peers whose parents were film industry executives, such fluctuations didn’t make much difference. It’s essential to adapt accordingly. Today, younger generations exhibit similar behaviors through apps like Venmo—becoming overly meticulous over repaying small sums, even down to the last cent, for something simple like a cup of coffee.
All of them are settling their bills at the bar, and they end up paying for just one beverage. This scenario carries a distinct philosophical undertone.
Regardless of your wealth, a particular threshold of fundamental kindness seems to have vanished entirely nowadays.
Your 20s are about being on the same boat. Everyone’s struggling to get up to the surface, jumping around jobs. But there’s a shift where you start seeing more of the bifurcation of income levels and career success. I’ve had friendships that have been affected by some people nailing it, career-wise, and others who can’t figure out what they want to do. Things get heightened differently.
What is your relationship to “coming of age” material? Strangely, it’s kind of the only thing I like. It’s what I find the most interesting. Is that something you just wanted to do yourself?
This is a coming-of-age novel, though it deals with maturity beginning at a later stage of life.
That period holds greater significance compared to high school or college since during those years, many individuals are still inexperienced. With lower consequences for most folks back then, where do we go from here? Should our next step be turning this concept into a film or a television series?
My friend mentioned that this book reads like watching a TV show. Several others have expressed similar sentiments. However, I think that would be quite thrilling.
The aim at present is to ensure longevity, yet this approach comes with the danger of compromising quality should the program falter. This presents a scenario where the potential gains are significant, but so too are the risks.
Authoring a book is incredibly isolating. It feels like you’re going mad and constantly drinking ginger ale. This experience drives me crazy. In contrast, I adored my time at magazines where I was surrounded by individuals and engaged in teamwork. Therefore, having the opportunity to collaborate with other talented folks, including those who excel in areas beyond my capabilities—like acting—is both enjoyable and fascinating for me.
Once you finish reading a book, does it spark an urge to do the complete opposite, or rather motivates you to repeat the experience since it was enjoyable?
You’re on to me. I don’t know where this comes from. Probably something from my childhood, but I always want to do something different when I finish anything. I’m working on another book, and we’ll keep going in that direction. But I do have this urge. I started writing a play because I’m a writer. I want to be writing. I always want to tackle some new challenge.
It keeps you sharp, and you’ll eventually return to your first love. If you went and did theater for 10 years, you would probably write another book. All that stuff is related. If it’s coming from Josh, then it’s related. It doesn’t matter what the medium is. That’s something we all get caught up in. The output is the output wherever it lands. But this book just brings me back in a warm way. A lot of books don’t do that. This will find its home. It’s beautiful to find something well-written and the characters well-developed, but it’s not some obtuse thing I have to work to understand. It’s good and fun.
The best compliments I can get are people saying, “This feels like you in a book,” which is really special. I got caught up writing at certain times, thinking about how books are “supposed to be.” I want people to have a good time.
Were there any books you referred to when pitching this idea and contemplating it?
Jennifer Egan’s
A Visit From the Grim Team
. This is probably 15 years ago, but I wrote her such a long email. I just pulled this up with my friend at dinner the other night. The response she wrote to me was amazing. She wrote five pieces of advice. I’m usually not super sentimental about stuff like that, but I printed out that email. But that book, for sure, the way she would jump from character to character. This came up a lot when talking to my agent, but the
Brilliant Friend
series from Elena Ferrante. Those books are just about that push-pull of core friendship, where you love each other but have these animosities and anxieties. I’m sure you’ve experienced this, but especially in New York, there can be this, I hate to say transactional, but these weird elements. Friendships get murky. It’s a professional friend, but they’re also my buddy, and we hang out and ask each other for these favors.
That sums up my entire life. I enjoy interacting with people and building relationships, and I never want those connections to feel impersonal. However, due to the industry we’re in, it can occasionally become somewhat transactional. It’s important to maintain a sense of respect and handle these situations appropriately.
Things don’t affect me the way they used to when I was in my 20s because back then those things would begin to bother me. This attitude seems quite typical of New Yorkers. You’d find similar sentiments in Los Angeles too. Perhaps this mindset exists all over.
