With so many conversations and so many characters flitting in and out, it can be hard to discern who or what actually matters-which of course is the point. Instead we are simply allowed to revel in the wonderfully directionless ride of Isa and Gala’s good and occasionally bad times, soaking up the book’s carefree tone with each invitation accepted and cocktail consumed. This kind of set-up could easily devolve into a ham-fisted cautionary tale Happy Hour thankfully refuses lazy cliché. like Babitz, Granados understands that the power of an effective writer lies in her capacity to 'change the boundaries of heaven.' And like any seasoned party girl, Isa knows that half the pleasure of the party is in the retelling. Bracingly bridling at our expectations, it revels in an erotics of excess, while never losing its shrewd observational eye.
And in unknotting and taxonomizing the navigational rules of this labyrinthine apparatus.the author makes the classic novel of manners our cocaine contemporary, revising its narratives to insinuate that, in matters of social (if not economic and structural) power, there is, in large part, no there there. With finger-licking delight, she reveals the hollowness at the center of the matryoshka doll that is the city’s social networking apparatus. Through her portrait of Isa and Gala and the crowd that swirls around them, Granados broadly satirizes the cultural class of model-artists, fuckboy bartenders, hip gallerists, and secretly wealthy layabouts of Brooklyn and Manhattan.
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