adelaide faith & bronwen lam on Happiness forever 

Adelaide and I first found each other through Forever Magazine—I had written a short story about a weird therapy session; Adelaide was quietly at work on a novel about a woman obsessed with her therapist. That novel, Happiness Forever, is now out on FSG and 4th Estate. It follows Sylvie’s “small life” in an English seaside town where she works as a vet tech, tends to her brain-damaged dog, and is in love with someone who can’t love her back. Sylvie is a Pierrot protagonist of the modern age, a character so unsure, so obsessed and intimately interior she feels like someone you might know — or are.

Over zoom Adelaide and I talked about how appearance functions as emotional bait, why awkwardness is its own kind of style, and what it means to still be confused about everything — at fifty, at thirty-five, at fifteen: 

BL: I know you’re in Hastings. Did you say you've never been to New York, or you have?

AF: I have been to New York! I went once for New Year’s Eve, weirdly, by myself. I used to do so many things alone, and now I think I'd be too scared. But I was so brave back then. (A few weeks later Adelaide came to New York alone.)

BL: You said you go to readings alone…

AF: Yeah, most of my friends in London were in bands. I didn’t have any writing friends until Chelsea Hodson’s Morning Writing Club. So it’s nice — I finally have friends in writing. I used to just go to the London Review Bookshop and Foyles — author talks, Q&As. I thought that was all there was. Then I went to Casual Encountersz when it came to London — Megan Nolan was reading. I went alone and was so shocked —it was like a party! I got there really early, like a total square, and sat by myself all confused. But after that I started seeking them out: Deleted Scenes, Soho Reading Series, New Work.

BL: Do you remember how you came across Forever Magazine? It’s how I found a lot of writing I loved — yours included — and it’s how you and I met obviously.

AF: For me, most things started with Sheila Heti, but I do remember seeing the Forever merch and thinking, Oh my God, what is this? And yeah, I ended up discovering a lot of people through it.

BL: I picked up How Should a Person Be? before having heard of Sheila Heti, just because of the title — that eternal question. Something that Happiness Forever looks at too and Sylvie’s relationship to existence seems a bit like that. You’ve said you’re not as interested in characters who are already sure of themselves.

AF: I think if I wanted to observe people who were confident and sure of themselves, I’d watch a film. But with books, you’re inside someone’s head. And for me, I’m always questioning everything, so I want to read characters who are doing the same. It just doesn’t feel normal to me. Like, even today I was in a café waiting for my daughter, and I was just looking around thinking, “These are people.” Like, who are we? I just find being alive very strange. So that’s what I’m interested in: books that reflect that confusion.

BL: Didn’t you say that early readers or editors said your book needed more conflict? But that you resisted — especially between Sylvie and her new friend.

AF: Yeah, I literally couldn’t. It would upset me so much. I wouldn’t say I know what I’m doing when I write — it’s all instinct. But I do know what I dislike. That’s how I’m able to edit: I cut what I hate. And I really liked those two characters — I couldn’t make anything bad happen between them. I have friendships like that in real life. You’d honestly have to pay me a million pounds to write something bad happening between them. It would just make me too upset. Even though I say I’m unsure of everything, I think deep down I’m very instinctive. Like, I can’t wear certain colors. My body just rejects them. Same with writing — it’s a physical reaction.

BL: I know Sheila Heti read your manuscript, what was that like?

AF: I mean, it was amazing — she’s literally the number one person I would want to like it. I look up to her so much. So when she liked it, I just thought, nothing can hurt me now. But then, of course, things still did but not as much, because Sheila liked it. It was also confusing — like, now what? I need a new unattainable goal.

AL: Do you have one? A new unattainable goal?

AF: Just involving romance I suppose. But writing-wise, as soon as I finished this book, I knew I wanted the next one to be better. I’ve already started it. And actually, the writing goal and the romance goal are connected — like I’m writing about it.

BL: You said Sylvie might return in this next one.

AF: Yeah. After Happiness Forever was finished I was having a really difficult time and so many things happened, this one terrible thing in particular. So I spent the year trying to get over that and part of how I coped was by writing Sylvie doing the things I was doing. She’s thinking about God, among other things. So yes, I think she’ll return — but hopefully more mature.

BL: Sylvie had me thinking about puella aeterna or the eternal girl and Peter Pan syndrome.

AF: I’ve got that book The Problem Of The Puer Aeternus. Apparently the answer to Peter Pan syndrome is work, right? And yeah, I think a lot about whether I’ve grown up enough. I’m getting older, but there’s still so much I don’t understand. Writing this book hasn’t helped me grow up — it’s just made me feel more comfortable staying the same. Like, people accepted something from my brain, and I feel like my brain is kind of underdeveloped or immature in a way that’s different from other people. I’m turning fifty soon and honestly feel like I’m eighteen. Writing the book didn’t help me grow up — it just made that state of mind more acceptable.

BL: Is there maybe some of that too in Sylvie’s physical awkwardness?

AF: You know, I don’t think I’ve read many books where people feel physically awkward. Maybe Eileen? I do remember her describing herself vividly. But Sylvie feels weird in her body — like it doesn’t fit. And that’s part of why she’s drawn to animals. They don’t look awkward. They look how they’re meant to, especially dogs — unless we’ve bred them in weird ways. I think Sylvie imagines other people seeing her and not liking what they see — her outside — and therefore not liking her. It’s something I think about a lot: how we base so much on appearances. Like, we become friends at school because of how someone looks, with no idea what’s inside them. It’s kind of horrifying. I remember seeing my best friend as a kid and loving her blonde hair, her cheeks, her pinafore — everything about how she looked. And I just thought, I want to be near that. Isn’t it strange?

BL: The way we’re drawn to the outside or the assumption we know what someone’s about because of how they present.

AF: Exactly. We’re all using appearance as shorthand.

BL: Sylvie wears the same thing every day — a white shirt and black trousers?

AF: Yeah, exactly. She always wears that. It’s about creating continuity — something fixed — because she feels so unfixed, like a swirling, changing thing that isn’t fixed.

BL: For someone who feels unfixed and unsure of herself, her confession to her therapist is quite brave.

AF: Yeah. I think the thing is: she just loves being obsessed with people. And I think it’s probably a thing where, because she doesn’t feel great about people in general, she kind of overcompensates. Like, to deal with the disappointment in humanity, she finds one person and decides, “Okay, this one’s amazing.” And part of enjoying that obsession is to go all the way with it — to tell the person, “I adore you.” I mean, I bet it's horrible. I bet it's really horrible for the other person. I always wonder about someone like Nick Cave. If you go to one of his concerts, it’s religious. People are crying, raising their arms. I actually went backstage at his concert when I was 18. I was so obsessed. I knew what his manager looked like from watching documentaries, and I just went up to him and said, “Can I see him?” And he said yes. I ended up sitting on the floor next to Nick Cave. It was so weird. I just played with his son and didn’t say a word. It was awful. Really.

BL: You’ve said before that you don’t like to speak in public or do readings — has that shifted with the book coming out?

AF: Maybe, slowly. I’ve just never spoken much. I was insanely shy — I didn’t speak in school at all. Nowadays, they’d probably call it selective mutism, but back then no one really paid attention. I literally wouldn’t even say “yes” during roll call. I had my friend say it for me. Later, at work, I couldn’t speak in meetings. I’d write things down instead of talking. I don’t know how I got through life. I’m getting better, I think. But reading aloud — I don’t know if I could ever do that. I tried once on a writing course and couldn’t breathe.

BL: That reminds me of Sylvie’s blushing, something she does throughout the book — not something I often read about.

AF: I don’t think I’ve really read about blushing either, which is weird now that you say it. It’s the inside coming out. Something you can’t control. I had a big problem with blushing, and people were horrible about it — even teachers. I guess I wanted to write it as if it were a nice thing. It can be excruciating. It’s just another excruciating fact of being human. What other animal blushes?

BL: Speaking of teachers, I’ve heard it was your therapist who encouraged you to write?

AF: Yeah, my therapist asked if I’d write a review for her website and I just liked her so much that I spent an entire weekend writing it. I hadn’t written in ages — I was working at a vet clinic then. I really admire people who write for a living, but I always hated writing essays in school. I’d literally be chain-smoking and in mental agony trying to get through them. So I hadn’t written in a long time. I ended up writing this super long, essay-like thing, and then another version that was a bit funnier and more creative. That was before I’d written any fiction. And then my therapist started encouraging me to take a writing class. I told her I couldn’t bear the idea of joining a class at my age, but she said she hadn’t started training to be a therapist until later in life either — it was hard at first, but worth it. And yeah, it all started with that review.

BL: Any final words on Happiness Forever?

AF: Yes, actually, I meant to say earlier — my first story was published in Forever. That felt surreal because it was literally my favorite magazine. I remember getting the acceptance email and thinking it must be a joke, like Carrie-style — someone playing a prank. I just couldn’t believe it. It made me think, Maybe I can actually do this. But to me, my writing feels so basic — like a baby wrote it. Because it comes from my own brain, it just feels like nothing. It’s like water. I wasn’t trying to be different — I wasn’t trying at all, really — but maybe that’s what you’re supposed to do. Just be yourself.








Adelaide Faith worked as an editor at Channel 4 Learning before training to be a veterinary nurse at Battersea Dogs and Cats Home, after which she worked as a nurse at the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals and the People’s Dispensary for Sick Animals. Her short fiction has appeared in Forever, Hobart, Vol. 1 Brooklyn, Maudlin House, Farewell Transmission, ExPat Press, and Vlad Mag. Her first novel, Happiness Forever, is out now with FSG in the US, and 4th Estate in the UK.

Bronwen Lam lives in NYC. Her writing can be found in Forever Magazine, Heaven Magazine, Hobart, Spectra Poets, Rose Books Hotline, Dream Boy Book Club & The Drunken Canal. She is the host of Patio, a monthly literary reading series in NYC.