BookBrowse Reviews Contrapposto by Dave Eggers

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At times funny, at times moving, Contrapposto describes the lifelong friendship between two artists.

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Contrapposto, Italian for "counterpose," is an artistic technique in which most of the subject's weight is shifted to one foot, causing the figure's hips and shoulders to ride at opposing angles and resulting in an appealing S-shaped curve to the body (Michelangelo's David is often cited as a perfect example). The overall effect is one of balance, conveying the illusion of both relaxation and movement. Contrapposto is also the title of Dave Eggers's latest novel; here, the term aptly captures the interplay between the story's two main characters as they repeatedly drift together and then apart over a sixty-plus-year friendship.

The story unfolds from the point of view of Robert "Cricket" Dibbs. An introspective child who finds solace in art, he encounters Olympia, who pressures him to put his artistic talent to use (granted, it's just in coercing him to vandalize playground equipment, but still). Once he's done her bidding, she disappears. This pattern repeats throughout the seven sections of the novel—Olympia suddenly appears in Cricket's life, pushes him artistically, and then is on her way; she's not so much muse as catalyst. Each chapter, separated by years when the pair don't see each other, reflects a key moment in Cricket's life as he struggles to establish a career creating works of art.

The strength of the novel is Eggers's two diametrically opposed characters. Olympia is dynamic and capricious, always unpredictable; she's a whirlwind, a being in constant motion. Cricket, on the other hand, is quiet and humble, sometimes a dreamer, sometimes a realist. Although completely devoted to Olympia, he's always clear-eyed about her and their relationship. He can seem incredibly naïve or wise beyond his years, depending on the situation. Both characters are finely drawn, but Cricket in particular is one of the most three-dimensional creations I've encountered in a long time.

Eggers has a background in visual art (see Beyond the Book) and the novel brims with an insider's knowledge about the challenges of seeking a career in the field. He poses questions such as what makes art "good"—and who gets to make those value judgments. One of Cricket's mentors tells him, "You can have all the skill in the world, but without an idea—something that delights or challenges the mind—it probably falls short of being art." Yet later in his life, Cricket works for a man whose ideas are executed by his employees. Cricket determines that "by paying and managing a team of talented artisans, [the artist] brought forth the existence of great things." But is it still art if one's ideas are realized by others? Eggers leaves readers pondering these and other conundrums.

Parts of the book are quite funny, although the comedy is subdued, more about the absurdity of a situation than actual laugh-out-loud humor. In one scene—which mirrors the author's own experiences—Cricket interns for a gallery. He's assigned to perform crowd control for an opening (with strict instructions to allow just 12 people in the room at one time) only to have absolutely no one show up. Yet the gallery owner requires him to remain at the door for days on end. He's finally rescued by Olympia, who compares the exhibit to "visual elevator music."

Midway through the novel, an overly preachy tone threatens to ruin the book. At this point in the narrative, Cricket is attending an art college, where he develops a friendship with a retired professor. Much of this section is the professor's tirade at the university's—and by extension, the art world's—failure to support classically skilled artists. "When we hound certain kinds of artists out of this school," he rants, "we engage in a kind of upside-down artistic fascism that reminds me of Pol Pot purging his country of intellectuals." Later, he opines that "a small but powerful cohort within the artist ranks" are keeping others from being successful. "They're not content to coexist with other forms and ideas," he states. "They must burn everything else to the ground. I understand art evolving, but why does one movement seek to negate all that came before it?" There's so much narrative in this vein—it goes on for a good 40 pages—that it changes the whole tenor of the book and grinds the action to a halt. Later in the novel, Eggers addresses similar questions with more subtlety, making this section feel especially heavy-handed. It's worth pushing through this part, however; subsequent chapters are quite entertaining and avoid lectures.

With that exception, Contrapposto is an engaging read, and Eggers's fans, as well as those who enjoy literary fiction about the art world, will appreciate this addition to his catalogue.

This review first ran in the June 24, 2026 issue of BookBrowse Recommends.