Dear Prudence, by Daniel M. Lavery, is the third collection of letters and advice I’ve read (after How to Be a Person in the World, by Heather Havrilesky, and Tiny Beautiful Things, by Cheryl Strayed). Lavery was Prudence for Slate from 2015 to 2021, before passing on the name to another advice writer. Unlike How to Be a Person in the World—which could be read as self-help—or Tiny Beautiful Things—which was about Strayed’s own life and personal growth—Lavery’s collection includes as much commentary about being an advice columnist and why people write in, as much as it does about actual advice.
Lavery reproduces letters about family estrangement, navigating sexuality and gender expression, workplace conflict, communicating about feelings, romantic relationships, and more. The letters feed the gossipy part of myself as much as my low-key compulsion to read the extraordinary and bizarre situations people get themselves into on Reddit’s Am I the Asshole forum. I enjoy Lavery’s forgiving (mostly) approach to advice. He’s blunt with people who write in for permission to cheat (there are a surprising number of these people) but frequently encourages people to give themselves a bit of grace when they’ve tied themselves up in knots about what others might think or conflicts that can’t be resolved. I also really appreciated Lavery’s encouragement to let things go when letter writers confess their petty annoyances or make mountains out of molehills.
During Lavery’s tenure as Prudence, he transitioned and, for good cause, became estranged from his “family of origin.” (Lavery shares the details of what happened with his family and meditates on what to call the people who were his family before the estrangement.) He brings up these personal details in his reflections on how his advice has changed over the years. More than once, Lavery wishes that they had offered different advice or had delivered that advice in softer tones. It might be age and experience but Lavery mellowed over the years. Lavery is also clear about their lack of experience before becoming Prudence and how they have to ask friends with children when letter writers want help with their relationships with their children or younger relatives. I find it refreshing when an advice columnist can respond that they don’t know about something, especially when compared to other advice-givers who present themselves as infallible.
Lavery’s letters, advice, and commentary in Dear Prudence made for a very interesting look behind the scenes at being a professional advice-giver. Readers who are similarly fascinated by other people’s problems will enjoy this collection.
I received a free copy of this book from the publisher via NetGalley, for review consideration.