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Pregaming Grief
Evoking the spirit of Annie Ernaux — who in Simple Passion "experienced pleasure like a future pain" — the unnamed narrator of Danielle Chelosky's Pregaming Grief seeks destruction to accelerate the inevitable. Whether hiding in abandoned buildings, behind the wheel of a speeding car, or writhing under a stranger's body, the protagonist finds herself endlessly entangled in a series of escapades fueled by an adolescent lust for annihilation. After an intense love affair is eclipsed by her partner's escalating addiction, she soon becomes infatuated with an older man who introduces her to a new world of music, wine, and affection blurring the line between pleasure and cruelty. Is this new relationship self-sabotage in disguise, or is it the cure?
206 pages, Paperback
Published April 24, 2024
2 people are currently reading
457 people want to read
About the author
Danielle Chelosky
11 books39 followersDanielle Chelosky is a writer and journalist from New York. She works at Stereogum and has bylines in NPR, The Fader, and Billboard. She is an editor at Hobart and an editorial assistant at Amphetamine Sulphate. She graduated from Sarah Lawrence College in 2022 and was awarded the Lori Hertzberg Prize for Creativity. She is the author of PREGAMING GRIEF and BABY BRUISE.
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Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews
May 25, 2024
felt like i was reading my own journal and it scared the fuck out of me
March 1, 2025
Highly readable, until around the 120 page mark, unfortunately becoming a frustrating loop where I never learned anything new about any of the "characters", which are just vehicles to lead into the next scene.
A flurry of brief male characters are introduced at the end, saying nothing and of course fucking, predictably, every time, whilst our narrator slides further down her insecurities and exploration with sexual agency, revealing nothing but thin outlines of what it means to be a teenager. She is a little too attached to clinically documenting events as they unfolded, a weakness in autofiction, rather than fashioning a daring fantasy, something that rises above just changing names in its fiction. I want to be left wondering...did that really happen?
I hope Danielle takes a page from Anything That Moves by Jamie Stewart, a highly endearing, gnarly, bizarre sex memoir, for her future works. It doesn't seem to be enough for me to read the chronicling of a drunk, contradictory, hyper sexual young adult, intellectualised retrospectively in a way that feels a little phoney. (Teenagers are often dipshits and reflect very rarely in such profound ways as detailed in this book).
Although sympathetic and loveable at first, it wears thin, but nevertheless I was engaged in the story and its effortless momentum, the drama of her life feeling natural probably because, yeh it really happened. And Danielle is very emotionally intelligent, giving this tale of teenage hedonism and pain a feeling of wisdom. Go further with the mixtape vibes, more music references! At least it would help flavour the narrative.
In addition to taking inspiration from ATM, I'd hope D goes a little further into illustrating scenes, their interiors, the details of sex, extending anecdotes, characterisation, adding flesh to the bones, feeling baked into this city and never wanting to leave no matter how difficult. I don't want to feel like I'm watching someone's life from behind a glass pane, watching the scenes come and go before I have any time to indulge in their emotion.
The ending is the largest offender, not really concluding in any real drama, never tying up an end to why it's written directly to one ex boyfriend and not the others, stumbling into a sad defeated state that doesn't feel cathartic, just deflating.
Scenes > Scenery. I don't want all of the furniture if it's just there to be furniture. I want an environment that feels not only lived in, but an environment where those characters spawned from.
A flurry of brief male characters are introduced at the end, saying nothing and of course fucking, predictably, every time, whilst our narrator slides further down her insecurities and exploration with sexual agency, revealing nothing but thin outlines of what it means to be a teenager. She is a little too attached to clinically documenting events as they unfolded, a weakness in autofiction, rather than fashioning a daring fantasy, something that rises above just changing names in its fiction. I want to be left wondering...did that really happen?
I hope Danielle takes a page from Anything That Moves by Jamie Stewart, a highly endearing, gnarly, bizarre sex memoir, for her future works. It doesn't seem to be enough for me to read the chronicling of a drunk, contradictory, hyper sexual young adult, intellectualised retrospectively in a way that feels a little phoney. (Teenagers are often dipshits and reflect very rarely in such profound ways as detailed in this book).
Although sympathetic and loveable at first, it wears thin, but nevertheless I was engaged in the story and its effortless momentum, the drama of her life feeling natural probably because, yeh it really happened. And Danielle is very emotionally intelligent, giving this tale of teenage hedonism and pain a feeling of wisdom. Go further with the mixtape vibes, more music references! At least it would help flavour the narrative.
In addition to taking inspiration from ATM, I'd hope D goes a little further into illustrating scenes, their interiors, the details of sex, extending anecdotes, characterisation, adding flesh to the bones, feeling baked into this city and never wanting to leave no matter how difficult. I don't want to feel like I'm watching someone's life from behind a glass pane, watching the scenes come and go before I have any time to indulge in their emotion.
The ending is the largest offender, not really concluding in any real drama, never tying up an end to why it's written directly to one ex boyfriend and not the others, stumbling into a sad defeated state that doesn't feel cathartic, just deflating.
Scenes > Scenery. I don't want all of the furniture if it's just there to be furniture. I want an environment that feels not only lived in, but an environment where those characters spawned from.
April 30, 2024
Full review/interview here: https://blacklipstick.substack.com/p/...
I read Danielle Chelosky’s full-length debut Pregaming Grief in a few hours on a flight back from London, after a trip where I’d lost the plot on what I wanted from life. My first reaction to the book was to scream in the airplane bathroom. My second was to consider breaking up with my boyfriend.
PREGAMING GRIEF begins as Danielle exits a long-term relationship that has deteriorated due to addiction. She soon enters into something new with someone else, something that feeds on a different kind of self-delusion traveling the path to self-destruction. “The liquor, the men, the heartbreak, the mania, the isolation,” she writes. “The memory is disturbingly bright in my mind, overexposed.” The narrative is frequently directed at the man from Danielle’s first chaotic relationship who she refers to as “you.”
One of Danielle’s friends in PREGAMING GRIEF quips to her that she thinks Danielle too frequently flirts with catastrophe. Similarly, a former love interest tries to remind her, “You don’t need to have bad forgettable sex so you can immortalize it in writing.” Neither of these comments are inaccurate, especially given the number of abandoned places explored, car problems experienced, and losers screwed.
To me, though, her varied attempts at toying with danger feel more like a comprehension strategy than a display of recklessness, especially for a person who admits she would fail multiple choice sections on a test but ace the essay portion. The chaos is in multi-dimensional pursuit of understanding ambiguous relationships, with men but also with the world at large.
What does it mean to drift through college classes feeling lost, empty-headed, and insecure as people around you waffle between whether someone is nice or more of a robot? How can you love someone when you haven’t even been outside together, worrying that all of your relationships will feel like museums: places you briefly look around but ultimately depart? Why has the middle ground suddenly disappeared, making everything seem like life or death, bliss or agony, the ideas overlapping so brutally that they become indistinguishable?
These questions are huge, especially for someone Danielle’s age. In PREGAMING GRIEF, she is aware enough to know she is getting to the point in life where she’s going to start hating it, but she also doesn’t feel like a grown-up given that she can consent to sex yet can’t legally drink. While she takes Plan B for the first time, she’s also having to hide where she’s going from her mom. As she rushes to collect experiences, she’s also sitting through older men telling her about their twenties before even entering hers. Again, the world is in constant contradiction.
I read Danielle Chelosky’s full-length debut Pregaming Grief in a few hours on a flight back from London, after a trip where I’d lost the plot on what I wanted from life. My first reaction to the book was to scream in the airplane bathroom. My second was to consider breaking up with my boyfriend.
PREGAMING GRIEF begins as Danielle exits a long-term relationship that has deteriorated due to addiction. She soon enters into something new with someone else, something that feeds on a different kind of self-delusion traveling the path to self-destruction. “The liquor, the men, the heartbreak, the mania, the isolation,” she writes. “The memory is disturbingly bright in my mind, overexposed.” The narrative is frequently directed at the man from Danielle’s first chaotic relationship who she refers to as “you.”
One of Danielle’s friends in PREGAMING GRIEF quips to her that she thinks Danielle too frequently flirts with catastrophe. Similarly, a former love interest tries to remind her, “You don’t need to have bad forgettable sex so you can immortalize it in writing.” Neither of these comments are inaccurate, especially given the number of abandoned places explored, car problems experienced, and losers screwed.
To me, though, her varied attempts at toying with danger feel more like a comprehension strategy than a display of recklessness, especially for a person who admits she would fail multiple choice sections on a test but ace the essay portion. The chaos is in multi-dimensional pursuit of understanding ambiguous relationships, with men but also with the world at large.
What does it mean to drift through college classes feeling lost, empty-headed, and insecure as people around you waffle between whether someone is nice or more of a robot? How can you love someone when you haven’t even been outside together, worrying that all of your relationships will feel like museums: places you briefly look around but ultimately depart? Why has the middle ground suddenly disappeared, making everything seem like life or death, bliss or agony, the ideas overlapping so brutally that they become indistinguishable?
These questions are huge, especially for someone Danielle’s age. In PREGAMING GRIEF, she is aware enough to know she is getting to the point in life where she’s going to start hating it, but she also doesn’t feel like a grown-up given that she can consent to sex yet can’t legally drink. While she takes Plan B for the first time, she’s also having to hide where she’s going from her mom. As she rushes to collect experiences, she’s also sitting through older men telling her about their twenties before even entering hers. Again, the world is in constant contradiction.
May 19, 2024
"writing began to feel less like an attempt to move on and more like a form of relapse"
To anyone who's read Annie Ernaux, this book is a clear inheritor of the French memoirist, both in theme and style, and in its affirmation that writing is a form of freedom. Chelosky understands writing as a continuation of life, it is a sort of necessity, a way to make sense of the world around her. Her writing, she often suggests, sprouts from the moment itself. There is not much of a gap between action and writing, meaning her commitment to understanding is red-hot, is immediate, it's the present she wants to grasp.
I felt a lot of nostalgia for my younger self reading this book, and a lot of tenderness for her too. I think Chelosky captures some of that raw oblation that your late teenage years inspires in you and is at her best being self-indulgent, clinging on to the things in her life that give her meaning, the people and the feelings. There's an undeniable bravery to her writing.
I can't help but deeply respect this book's project and commitment to itself. Her world is cohesive, her symbols and world too. And it's a beautiful book, if I'm to take the book as object into consideration.
To anyone who's read Annie Ernaux, this book is a clear inheritor of the French memoirist, both in theme and style, and in its affirmation that writing is a form of freedom. Chelosky understands writing as a continuation of life, it is a sort of necessity, a way to make sense of the world around her. Her writing, she often suggests, sprouts from the moment itself. There is not much of a gap between action and writing, meaning her commitment to understanding is red-hot, is immediate, it's the present she wants to grasp.
I felt a lot of nostalgia for my younger self reading this book, and a lot of tenderness for her too. I think Chelosky captures some of that raw oblation that your late teenage years inspires in you and is at her best being self-indulgent, clinging on to the things in her life that give her meaning, the people and the feelings. There's an undeniable bravery to her writing.
I can't help but deeply respect this book's project and commitment to itself. Her world is cohesive, her symbols and world too. And it's a beautiful book, if I'm to take the book as object into consideration.
May 1, 2025
(Danielle if you’re reading this I love your Substack!!!)
A real Writer’s Writer on our hands, if that makes sense. Love a vignette style that creates this patchwork of an overarching narrative. Found myself less moved by the story at large because it’s just so far from my college experience (despite the near-identical timeline), but I sympathize all the same. Really just want to give her a hug and also have a six-hour coffee date with her.
A real Writer’s Writer on our hands, if that makes sense. Love a vignette style that creates this patchwork of an overarching narrative. Found myself less moved by the story at large because it’s just so far from my college experience (despite the near-identical timeline), but I sympathize all the same. Really just want to give her a hug and also have a six-hour coffee date with her.
January 3, 2025
"Love is like a museum," you said. "You have to look around, experience things, and then leave."
This book ends abruptly, which bothers me, but it also makes sense because that’s exactly the feeling these relationships and situations leave you with. Reading this book often felt like reading my own heart, and that makes me hopelessly sad, and also just a little bit comforted. There are no unique human experiences, and that is a relief to know others understand me and have survived times that felt this bleak.
Beautiful writing, agonizing tale, an unhappy/unfinished ending. Couldn’t ask for a better book to start the year with.
This book ends abruptly, which bothers me, but it also makes sense because that’s exactly the feeling these relationships and situations leave you with. Reading this book often felt like reading my own heart, and that makes me hopelessly sad, and also just a little bit comforted. There are no unique human experiences, and that is a relief to know others understand me and have survived times that felt this bleak.
Beautiful writing, agonizing tale, an unhappy/unfinished ending. Couldn’t ask for a better book to start the year with.
July 7, 2024
Messy - this book is incredibly messy.
This is exactly the kind of book I want to keep reading in the future (and I can definitely see myself rereading this in the future.)
The main character takes plunges into new and dangerous waters filled with wine, new music, and older men.
Destruction and self-imposed damnation are never too far around the corner. The main character is always finding ways to end her pain and then end up hurting herself again.
Anyone wanting a mess that you can't clean up after will need to read this. Get your copy from Hobart, Short Flight / Long Drive books.
Be warned, a book hangover will ensue after finishing.
This is exactly the kind of book I want to keep reading in the future (and I can definitely see myself rereading this in the future.)
The main character takes plunges into new and dangerous waters filled with wine, new music, and older men.
Destruction and self-imposed damnation are never too far around the corner. The main character is always finding ways to end her pain and then end up hurting herself again.
Anyone wanting a mess that you can't clean up after will need to read this. Get your copy from Hobart, Short Flight / Long Drive books.
Be warned, a book hangover will ensue after finishing.
September 3, 2024
The rush into the arms of obliteration. Looping back for more after each time you are left unfulfilled. Stellar work here by Danielle Chelosky which makes me ashamed I haven't read any Ernaux. To be corrected ASAP.
May 10, 2024
Made me sad 👍
July 28, 2025
while this is similar to chelosky's other stuff, the real interest for me here and the real accomplishment (as is going to be the case of a lot of writers of social realism from this generation) is that she caught a moment of intimacy during the pandemic and painted that very peculiar time with great specificity even though it never fully evolves into a machination of the plot (largely bc plot here is loose, the novel is all character and more than that all protagonist and voice), but rather exists to give an atmospheric reminder of a certain kind of loneliness that was collectively felt (which did nothing to alleviate it).
May 2, 2024
this book is a little too obsessed with the aesthetics and not enough about the analysis
i thought this would be better written than it was; i love a messsyyyyy teenage drug and sex story but this one fell short for me
i thought this would be better written than it was; i love a messsyyyyy teenage drug and sex story but this one fell short for me
June 19, 2024
There was something very enchanting (in a sincere and unpretentious way) but also puerile about the way this book made life seem renderable in a fractal pattern of insensate misery
June 24, 2024
Wooooooowie. A punch to the gut & a punch to the heart. Just brilliant.
September 4, 2024
3.5✨
Kinda vile, kinda relatable, very self-deprecating, reminded me of Ms. Moshfegh (in a good way)
Kinda vile, kinda relatable, very self-deprecating, reminded me of Ms. Moshfegh (in a good way)
January 16, 2025
this feels like i'm reading over my journal or staring into a mirror, i love/hate it.
February 17, 2025
If Anais Nin were still alive there's no way she wouldn't love this book. 11/10 for vulnerable, "open your veins and bleed" fiction. If it's autofiction, then it's brave as hell.
August 25, 2024
Damn girl
Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews