Dolly Alderton’s “Dear Dolly” offers readers an intimate glimpse into the chaotic, confusing, and often hilariously relatable problems that define modern relationships. As a collection of her agony aunt columns from The Sunday Times Style magazine, this book showcases Alderton’s unique ability to address life’s most delicate questions with warmth, wit, and unflinching honesty.
The premise is deceptively simple: people write in with their problems, and Dolly responds. But what emerges is far from a formulaic advice column. Instead, we’re treated to a masterclass in empathy, a celebration of human connection, and a much-needed reminder that none of us—no matter how seemingly together or sophisticated—have everything figured out.
The Counselor in the Corner Booth
Alderton’s introduction sets the tone perfectly, explaining her journey to becoming an agony aunt with characteristic self-deprecation: “I was at an all-time low when I decided I wanted to try to fix everyone else’s problems. My head was a mess and my heart was broken.” This admission is quintessential Alderton—vulnerable, disarmingly honest, and somehow making us feel better about our own messy lives in the process.
What makes “Dear Dolly” stand out from other advice books is Alderton’s refusal to pretend she has all the answers. Rather than delivering judgments from on high, she approaches each letter with genuine curiosity and an awareness of her own limitations. “When replying to all of these women, the first thing I always try to do is to take the shame out of their question,” she writes, capturing the essence of her approach.
The book is organized thematically into sections covering dating, friendship, relationships, family, sex, break-ups, and body and soul issues. This structure works beautifully, creating a natural flow while allowing readers to flip to sections most relevant to their current life stage or pressing concerns.
Wisdom Beyond Her Years
At just 33 (at the time of writing), Alderton demonstrates remarkable insight that seems to transcend her age. Whether she’s counseling a 19-year-old virgin worried about their lack of experience or a woman in her sixties concerned about rekindling her sex life, Alderton strikes the perfect balance between compassion and practicality.
Her advice on unrequited love to a 19-year-old woman exemplifies this balance: “You’re not a psycho. I would be more surprised to hear from a 19-year-old who doesn’t suspect they’re a love addict.” She validates the letter writer’s experience while gently helping them gain perspective, adding, “Obsession and imagination poured over the rocks of burgeoning sexuality is a powerful cocktail.”
This ability to normalize experiences without dismissing their emotional impact is one of Alderton’s greatest strengths. When a reader confesses to checking her sleeping boyfriend’s phone, Alderton doesn’t scold or shame but instead explores the deeper reasons behind this behavior: “Loving someone is not an act of control, it’s an act of surrender.”
The Universal in the Specific
What’s particularly impressive about “Dear Dolly” is how Alderton finds universal truths in highly specific situations. Consider her response to a woman who shares that her first love is now in a same-sex relationship:
“Here is the boring truth—something that the fog of your feelings may not let you see yet: your ex’s current relationship does not take anything away from the relationship you had with him. He did not go looking for a new relationship with the single aim of finding a different version of you or someone who would correct what you did or didn’t give him.”
In moments like these, Alderton transcends conventional advice-giving to deliver profound insights about love, loss, and moving forward.
Strengths and Weaknesses
What Works Beautifully:
- Authentic voice – Alderton’s writing feels like advice from your wisest, most insightful friend
- Cultural awareness – She navigates complex topics like sexuality, gender politics, and modern dating culture with nuance
- Humor as healing – Even in addressing painful topics, Alderton finds moments of levity without diminishing the gravity of the problems
- Personal vulnerability – She draws from her own experiences without making the advice all about her
- Accessibility – Complex emotional concepts are broken down into digestible, relatable explanations
Where the Book Could Be Stronger:
- Limited diversity of problems – As Alderton acknowledges, many letters come from heterosexual women with similar concerns
- Occasional repetition – Some advice themes recur throughout different sections
- Limited practical step-by-step guidance – While emotionally rich, some readers might want more concrete action plans
- Western-centric perspective – The advice sometimes assumes certain cultural contexts and privileges
- Column format limitations – The brevity required of newspaper columns occasionally prevents deeper exploration of complex issues
Beyond “Everything I Know About Love”
Fans of Alderton’s bestselling memoir “Everything I Know About Love” will recognize her voice immediately, but “Dear Dolly” represents a meaningful evolution in her writing. While her memoir documented her own romantic misadventures and friendships in her twenties, this collection shows her applying those hard-won lessons to help others navigate similar terrain.
The comparison to other advice books is inevitable, but Alderton carves out her own niche. Unlike the stern practicality of traditional agony aunts or the sometimes glib cheerleading of modern self-help, Alderton offers something more nuanced: acknowledgment of life’s messiness alongside gentle guidance toward self-compassion and growth.
In its approach, “Dear Dolly” has more in common with Cheryl Strayed’s “Tiny Beautiful Things” than conventional advice columns. Both writers use personal storytelling and emotional honesty to transcend the limitations of the format, creating something that feels more like literature than self-help.
A Mirror and a Map
What makes “Dear Dolly” essential reading isn’t just the quality of the advice but how it functions as both a mirror and a map. Reading others’ problems and Alderton’s thoughtful responses becomes a form of self-reflection—we see aspects of our own struggles illuminated and gain insight into our own patterns.
The honesty with which letter writers share their deepest insecurities—from worrying about their height deterring potential partners to anxiety about being the “ugliest person in the room”—creates moments of profound recognition. We realize we’re not alone in our most private fears, and this recognition itself becomes a form of healing.
Final Thoughts: Wisdom with Warmth
“Dear Dolly” isn’t perfect—no advice book could be, given the infinite complexity of human relationships. Occasionally, Alderton’s tendency toward romantic analogies and literary references might feel a bit much for some readers. And yes, there are moments when the brevity of the column format leaves you wanting more depth on a particular issue.
But these minor critiques pale in comparison to what Alderton achieves: a collection that feels like a warm conversation with a friend who knows exactly when to listen, when to offer perspective, and when to make you laugh at life’s absurdities.
In one response about heartbreak, Alderton writes: “Grief is an electric shock that tells us we are fully alive—it means we’re connecting and creating and caring. We’re participating. We’re making the most of this short go.” This perfectly encapsulates the book’s underlying philosophy: that our messy emotions, our complicated relationships, and our embarrassing mistakes aren’t deviations from a well-lived life—they are the very substance of it.
For anyone navigating the complexities of modern relationships—which is to say, all of us—”Dear Dolly” offers not just advice but companionship. It reminds us that our loneliness, confusion, and yearning connect us to others more than they isolate us. And that, perhaps, is the most comforting advice of all.
