'Dogs of Venice' - Steven Rowley's Queer Novella Captures Heartbreak and Self-Discovery

In the enchanting canals of Venice, where tourists wander amid historic beauty, Paul arrives heartbroken after his five-year marriage abruptly unravels. What was meant to be a romantic getaway with his husband Darren becomes a solo voyage of introspection. Paul, unable to speak Italian fluently and frequently lost in the labyrinthine streets, finds an unexpected anchor in a scruffy stray dog that exudes confidence and independence.

Published in 2025 by G.P. Putnam & Sons, "The Dogs of Venice" clocks in at just 65 pages, making it a quick yet profound read that invites rereading. Author Steven Rowley, known for New York Times bestsellers like "The Celebrants" and "The Guncle," crafts a narrative that gently prods readers to confront the ache of a failed romance while promising hope. Paul observes the dog—whom he affectionately claims as "his"—trotting unleashed with insouciant ease, prompting him to question: If this stray can thrive alone, why can't he? This canine muse symbolizes freedom and self-sufficiency, mirroring Paul's struggle to feel whole without a partner.

The story unfolds against Venice's vibrant backdrop: steaming plates of food, welcoming locals, and iconic sights that contrast Paul's inner turmoil. Initially consumed by self-doubt—recalling how Darren saw him as falling short—Paul takes small steps toward confidence. Encounters with the dog evolve from distant admiration to a magical intersection, fostering connections not just to the animal and the city, but crucially to himself. Reviewers highlight how Rowley balances heartache with humor, delivering an emotional punch in a compact form.

For LGBTQ+ readers, the novella affirms the realities of queer relationships, portraying a gay man's navigation of post-breakup solitude during what should be a celebratory holiday. It avoids clichés, focusing instead on internal dialogue and subtle growth rather than a new romance. One reviewer notes the dog's role as more than a pet: it represents the chance to start over, helping Paul rebuild self-worth eroded by marital criticism.

Rowley's empathetic voice shines in evoking the sting of solo holidays, a sentiment echoed in queer communities where festive seasons can amplify loneliness. The narrative underscores resilience, showing how queer individuals, like Paul, reclaim agency amid adversity. Critics appreciate its raw honesty without despair, culminating in an ending that feels earned and uplifting. As one outlet describes, it's a "poignant story of human struggle with the inner self," ideal for those seeking solace in literature.

Recent reviews from prominent LGBTQ+ publications have propelled the book into conversations about contemporary queer fiction. The Los Angeles Blade calls it perfect for an evening's read, praising its exploration of love gone, resurrected, and misdirected. Similarly, the Washington Blade echoes this, emphasizing its brevity and reread appeal. Independent blogs like Amanda's Book Corner laud its honest depiction of grief, noting Paul's setbacks and triumphs in feeling "enough on his own."

Rowley's oeuvre, including heartfelt family dramas, positions "The Dogs of Venice" as a gem for fans craving introspection over plot-heavy tales. Its release timing, amid holiday reflections, resonates deeply with queer audiences facing relational shifts. Goodreads users affirm its emotional pull, with one calling it a tale of "heartfelt emotion, a touch of humor, and meaningful introspection," though noting it's not a romance but a self-discovery journey.

Priced at $20, the hardcover invites broad accessibility, encouraging queer readers to find mirrors in Paul's path. As Venice's stray dogs roam freely, so does the story's message: queer lives flourish through self-connection, proving heartbreak need not define us.