Just couldn't really get into this one, despite loving epistolary novels. I found neither character to be likeable, and perhaps didn't stick around long enough to notice any growth.

I received an advance reader copy of this book to read in exchange for an honest review via netgalley and the publishers.

Dear Dickhead is a story that unfolds between emails passed back and forth between two characters Oscar and Rebecca. Oscar has been accused of sexually harassing an ex-employee called Zoe whom he swears he was in love with. Zoe has a huge following on social media after quitting her job due to the sexual harassment she received from Oscar and has confronted him publicly about it. As a writer, Oscars life has obviously been turned upside down. Not knowing where to turn and facing up to his addictions to drugs and alcohol, he begins emailing his sisters childhood friend Rebecca, who's a famous actress. We see all three characters' lives unfold through the emails and go on their journey of self-discovery, facing up to actions and behaviours past and present and taking control back of their lives.

I loved this book and was enthralled with the writing. I loved the character study. Would read more from the author!

"I'm fed up with sincerity. All I want is to be a complete asshole. To be negative about everything. To hate people. To feel contempt for them. To pretend they're to blame for all my problems. I'm reminded of something I heard at a meeting: "A relapse is something you construct." Some catastrophes have their own architecture."

Dear Dickhead, by Virginie Despentes, is a catastrophe: poor characterization and muddled philosophizing make for a boring novel that brings nothing new to #MeToo feminism. Also, everyone is a complete asshole.
An established, middle-aged author (Oscar), who is also a recovering alcoholic and party guy, is accused of past sexual transgressions by his young publicist (Zoe), who as a result of his behaviour felt compelled to leave her career in publishing and is now a social media influencer. For some obscure reason he takes up a correspondence with a childhood acquaintance, his older sister's best friend (Rebecca), who grew up to be a famous, drop-dead-gorgeous film star now facing ageism (but it doesn't really help that she's a junkie and a selfish bitch).

As an epistolary novel, it's a complete failure. Featuring email exchanges between Oscar and Rebecca, and then missives (blog posts?) from Zoe, their voices are indistinguishable — they all embody a similar kind of anger, victimhood, entitlement, righteousness, moral ambiguity. A good character doesn't have to likeable; I appreciate a provocative stance, but they should show some distinct personality if they hope to leave a mark.

Rebecca is rightfully skeptical of Oscar's past behaviour and current motivations.

"I don't believe that every victim's word is sacrosanct. Obviously, women sometimes lie. Either because they have no principles or because they think it's fair game. But the number of pathological liars among victims is infinitesimal, whereas the percentage of rapists among the male population speaks volumes about the state of male heterosexuality. Yet I suspect you're far more shocked by the possibility of an unfounded accusation than you are by the fact that some of your friends are rapists. On this basis — how can I put this delicately? — even with a supersize dose of compassion, it's hard to feel sorry for you."

While there is a resolution of sorts of the main plot point, there is not much character growth to speak of, beyond Oscar's and Rebecca's progress in beating addiction, and an inkling of an awareness that the world is bigger than themselves — they still have a very long way to go.

"Heroin is to crack what great literature is to Twitter — a whole different story. I say that because it sounds good. Deep down, real junkies take drugs because they know they're worthless. Whether you're shooting dope or smoking crack, what you're really doing is reminding yourself that you're shit. When you become a junkie, you're saying to the world, you really think you're saying to the world, you really think you're better than me? You're deluded. Shooting up and fucking up is our way of telling other people how much we despise them. Their pathetic efforts to stand on their own two feet. I'd rather die than do yoga."

I don't understand the praise for this book. There are cuss words and sex and drugs — does this pass as transgressive? It bored me. I often couldn't tell who was speaking, to ascertain whose past (or gender, or profession) was formative in shaping the arguments put forth. Their logic was convoluted. Clearly Despentes has (more) things to say about sexism and feminism and #MeToo and ageism and the effects of Covid isolation and refugees in France, but these epistolary explosions don't merit the label of "novel" — a book of incendiary essays would've had bigger impact.

My generation of women are famous for our ability to put up with shit. We were told, "No feminism, it turns men off," and we said, "Don't worry, Daddy, I won't bother anyone with my little problems." But all around me, I saw women being broken. That it all happened in a dignified silence didn't help anyone.

Epistolary novels have never been my favorite, but when its author is someone like Virginie Fucking Despentes I'm going to drop everything and read it anyway.

Especially since it kind of sounds like an epistolary novel of hate, as the title, Dear Dickhead (Cher Connard in French), heavily implies.


The correspondence that unfolds here is between a world famous French actress and celebrated beauty, Rebecca, and an almost as famous French novelist, Oscar. As we quickly learn, both of them have seen better days; Rebecca has hit middle age, is no longer much of a sex symbol and isn't getting much in the way of work anymore; Oscar has recently come to the attention of the #MeToo movement for his treatment of one of his first publicists, a woman named Zoe Katana (gotta love Despentes' character names; this is the best since Vodka Satana in the Vernon Subutex trilogy) at the start of his career.

They knew each other slightly as children, when Rebecca was the best friend of Oscar's older sister, Corrine, who makes a kind of side appearance in the novel as a topic of discussion between the two, but Corinne is not terribly important. What matters is that Oscar, newly in shock, as he excuses himself, from his exposure via his former publicist's blog, recently made some very unkind remarks to the press about Rebecca's appearance these days. And Rebecca, not one to suffer dickheads gladly, emailed him a scathing personal reply that is... very much the kind of thing I read Virginie Despentes for.

I don't think anyone would truly want to read a novel-length flame war, however, and Despentes has other things in mind than just a moderately novel storytelling device. Not long after the opening exchange of fire, Rebecca and Oscar settle down a bit, not only out of mutual respect for Corinne or their own childhood connection to one another and the memories they share, but out of a simple curiosity that blossoms into empathy and then into a combative kind of friendship. Part of the catalyst for this is Rebecca's own investigation of Oscar's sudden #MeToo infamy, exposed when the publicist becomes a middling internet-famous feminist blogger and tells her side of the story, which we get to see in interludes quoting entries from her blog.

Rebecca neither leaps to Oscar's defense nor takes Zoe's side, but, through her imperfect understanding of Zoe's experience as filtered through her own, makes a very good attempt at leading Oscar to consider how his behavior might have seemed very different from the point of view of an unwilling object of his attentions. Very good, but not perfect: Rebecca hasn't been as powerless as Zoe was since she was a young teenager, and has since lived the cosseted and insulated life of an international superstar. Still, she starts getting through to Oscar, enough to lead him to start reconsidering many aspects of how he has lived his life and treated other people -- and his relationship with drugs and alcohol.


Before we know it, Rebecca and Oscar have more or less talked each other into getting clean, with Oscar starting to actively go to Narcotics Anonymous meetings and soon realizing that he's actually finally found the only people in perhaps the world that don't care about the sexual harassment allegations against him, and, once the COVID-19 epidemic first hits and changes the world/ Rebecca eventually follows him, first lurking on the online meetings Oscar has to resort to when Shelter In Place becomes the new norm and then, discovering the same value that Oscar has found in his participation, cautiously turning on the camera and allowing others in recovery to know that she is there and is also finally ready to admit that her own drug use has maybe been a problem.

The two never share a physical space; everything unfolds in true epistolary fashion through their emails and bits from Zoe's blog that allow us not only to see an outside perspective on what they are doing but also, at least from Zoe's side, the price that Zoe is paying for speaking up as part of #MeToo, because of course Manosphere internet trolls start harassing her, threatening her, letting her know via disgusting physical parcels that they know where she lives and driving home that she is trapped there while the epidemic rages unchecked.

The character arcs thus explored are extraordinary and moving without ever feeling sentimental or manipulative; both Rebecca and Oscar are acerbic, brave and, eventually, honest. They never stop needling each other; Rebecca never really stops calling Oscar a dickhead even after they've both come to realize that they genuinely care about each other. Their individual voices are wickedly fun and brutally entertaining. Zoe's is less so, but she still gets a chance, if somewhat indirectly, to appeal to the reader's understanding and empathy. The result is a novel that not only met my exceedingly high expectations of Virginie Despentes as a novelist (who, let's face it, made my automatic buy list long ago) but exceeded them. Despentes is an absolute wonder, and I can't wait to see what she does next, if she chooses to do anything next at all, which I sincerely hope she does!

Read this over the space of a long weekend away, and this is one of those fun ones to watch unfold. You've got two classmates' email correspondences in which one to some degree (but not fully) realizes what a shitty person he is, the feminist who corresponds with him and tells us more about her own life, and the girl caught in the middle of it all (via her blog posts). It has that interesting view of the middle aged looking at the young and the young looking back at them, and is just a hell of a ride as the full scale of everything unfolds.

The writing quality of this book is objectively 5 stars. Many lines in this book really hit deeply. I found I connected with it emotionally on several levels. But I found that there was too much trying to be said that the messages about addiction, recovery, feminism, abuse, trauma, patriarchy, isolation, judgment, emotional intelligence... they all sort of got muddled together and it made the book lose its punch. There's no question the author and translator are both brilliant though. Overall, I appreciated this book but wanted to like it more than I did.

Witty, sparkly, inventive, yes all those things, at a sentence level, at a paragraph level..but man, as the story progressed the characters began to feel like tedious blowhards, self-absorbed and self-important, with preoccupations that are not all that intellectually interesting. Also for me the conceit of the novel never felt like more than a framework for Despentes to explore ideas that interested her personally, like mini-essays written by the same person donning different personas. In other words this one is for me a miss.

Wow! What a trip this book is!
Your perspective changes with time and with characters, but the topic stays as important as it was in the beginning. Right vs wrong, victim vs predator, women vs men, feminism vs masculism etc.
This is a very thought-provoking and provocative book that sheds light on victim blaming, online bullying, women turning against women and men not seeing what's wrong with their actions.
Excellent book!

p.s. Oscar IS a d!ckhead.

Thank you NetGalley and Farrar, Straus and Giroux for this ARC.

A raucous, often reprehensible back-and-forth rendered exquisitely by the inimitable Frank Wynne. As Rebecca and Oscar lob email bombs at one another, the reader can sit back and enjoy the invective banter in this smart, sharp, deviously entertaining novel of letters.

What a book.

Seriously, what a fantastic story of two people who are both, really, the worst. Oscar is a sexist, disgusting person. Rebecca is a semi-famous actress struggling to find roles as she ages.

This ultimately is a story about people, flaws and all.

Thanks to NetGalley and the publishers for the opportunity to read and review this book.

Written as an epistolary (sort of) novel Dear Dickhead tells the story of three people- Oscar, a published author who is accused of sexual harassment by Zoe, an ex-employee at Oscar's publisher, and Rebecca, an actress, who was friends with Oscar and his family during school days.

Oscar's reputation is in tatters after Zoe's accusations. Of course Oscar denies that he has harassed her and merely says he was in love with her and wanted her to know. Rebecca sends him e-mails advising him to come clean and Oscar's response is to attack her.

The letters take on the feel of essays at times dealing with MeToo, harassment, social media, trolling, drug/alcohol abuse and sexuality among other heavyweight issues.

As the book unfolds each character is forced to face up to their own addictions and faults. I found Oscar's journey probably the most fascinating as he examines his behaviour. Zoe and Rebecca also undergo revelatory experiences that lead them to very different lives.

This was a very interesting novel and not at all what I expected. To be honest what attracted me to the book was the title. I haven't read an Déspentes previously but this book piqued my interest.

Thankyou to Netgalley and Farrar, Strauss & Giroud for the advance review copy.

Sort of an interesting idea about two people exchanging messages online after an initial clash but goes on for way too long. Nobody talks like this online, and certainly not for this length, in this much detail. Especially when one of the participants would, really, just ignore the nobody insulting her in a public forum like this and carry on with her life. Premise aside, the novel loses steam and interest quickly - provocative title, weak sauce.

Thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for an eARC of “Dear Dickhead” by Virginie Despentes

🔥🔍 In the seething underbelly of Paris, where pleasure and excess collide, “Dear Dickhead” unfolds—a scorching contemporary tale of sex, feminism, and addiction. Virginie Despentes, the rock-and-roll Zola of our time, delivers a literary punch that leaves her readers breathless.

🔥 In this story, Oscar, a B-list novelist, finds himself embroiled in a social media storm after insulting actress Rebecca. Their fiery exchange sparks an unlikely friendship, even as Oscar faces sexual harassment allegations. As they dissect life under the patriarchy, addiction—whether to substances or rage—takes center stage.

🔥Despentes wields her pen like a switchblade as she exposes a culture which poisons both men and women.

The dialogue crackles, and Paris becomes a character itself—a city teetering on the edge of hedonism and decay. “Dear Dickhead” is unapologetically raw, a mirror reflecting our collective obsessions and vulnerabilities.

Wow, this was like being a fly on the wall, snooping into someone's personal correspondence. I haven't had so much fun since listening in on conversations on the telephone "party line" at my Grandma's in the old days.. A devilishly clever, whip smart book I greatly enjoyed.

Really fun to see the transition from punk star to literary darling, especially from a French author. This was a fun and dark novel, don't f with women is the main takeaway.

A great exploration of how frankness with strange bedfellows can be revelatory to both parties, this Despentes novel smartly crafted in epistolary exchanges offers a good dialogue & questions about social constraints, feminism (picking up many threads from the author's past works), addiction, social media, feeling isolated/the value of connections and how individuals can change.

It frequently has fantastic turns of phrases, and reads very smoothly (due credit also to translator Frank Wynne) — plus the back and forth between characters confronting or comforting one another is a clever way to also confront the reader. And at points to undercut parts that may otherwise come across to some as screeds from one of the characters — in that sense I do admit that it did drag juuuuust a bit for me during the middle (hence the 4.5 rating), but the clever patter drew me back in fully.

It's very much about "honesty and vulnerability and learning to acknowledge what you feel rather than just bottling it up right away," as Despentes (via Wynne) writes through the characters at one point.

I'd recommend this fully for those who were drawn to "King Kong Theory," for people who might like diving into the hearts and minds of those who think differently and those who wish arguments in the middle of "social media discourses" were more frequently fruitful.

But for those who need them, note some content warnings: harassment, mentions of rape, substance abuse, suicide/psychiatric distress

Unfortunately I could not get on with this book and did not finish reading it.

Thank you netgalley for the opportunity to read.

Virginie Despentes has one of the freshest, funniest, sharpest voices in literature, and Frank Wynne does a remarkable job of bringing that indelible voice to English-language readers. I found this to be an unexpectedly touching, sweet read, avoiding the hectoring tone novelists sometimes take when they feel like "speaking to the present moment."

This was hilarious, cutting, and full of vulnerability.

An “older” actress replies to an online troll (the troll happens to be a novelist who knew the actress before she was famous). Against all odds, they form a tentative friendship as they email each other back and forth, sharing hard truths and unvarnished opinions about addiction, cancel culture, gender, dating, etc.

The story is told through blog posts and emails. While I didn’t agree or relate to many of the opinions in the novel, I was entertained and appreciated the inventive format and opening chapter. Recommended to anyone looking for a fresh, provocative read.

Thank you very much to Farrar, Straus and Giroux and NetGalley for the opportunity to read a copy.

Dear Dickhead by Virginie Despentes was one of the most unique books I have read in a long, long time. I don't know what I was expecting it when I picked it up and it surprised me but I enjoyed it. It somehow manage to cover a lot of things and I enjoyed going over them all. I did felt like it had a slow start but once it picked up, I couldn't stop reading it. I'm very much looking forward to others reading this and then hearing their thoughts because it's definitely the kind of book that will start conversations.