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A review by haleymfischer
The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab
4.0
For 300 or so pages of this, I was wholly convinced that V.E. Schwab had likewise sold her soul to some god of darkness in exchange for literary brilliance.
In part, I think it's because this book found me at the perfect time. Just a few weeks ago, an artist I deeply admired died in a tragic accident at only 32. Since then, I've been wrestling with the idea of time and what someone might be willing to give up to have more of it.
Addie Larue was willing to give up her soul for more time and the chance to live a full life beyond the bounds of marriage, babies and small town France. But, as you would expect from a deal done with a devil in the dark, her desires are exploited and she's cursed to live an eternal life of being forgotten. Everyone she meets loses all memory of her as soon as they walk away.
I found myself instantly entranced, spellbound by Schwab's velvety prose, the jagged edges of Addie's curse, her many lopsided relationships and the winding and gentle unfolding of her three centuries of infernal freedom.
And then we meet Henry, the bookstore clerk that remembers her; the only human that ever has.
Henry was an agent of relatability. He brought me back to earth with struggles a little closer to home while Addie's story had me living in the clouds. He offered the reminder that, no, you don't actually have to be born in 18th century France to experience that same violent desperation for a life that's different from your own.
But this is also where the book started to lose its grip on me. Between pages 200-300, we shift from a focus on Addie's present and past to a focus on Henry's. And, while I felt his character was important and I empathized with his struggles, I just couldn't get invested in his life the same way I had with Addie's. So, rather than drinking in every word, I found myself drudging through the Henry-heavy chapters.
Thankfully though, the last hundred pages had the same magical, marvelous quality as the first 200. I could not flip the pages fast enough as we finally got into the meat of Addie's relationship with Luc. He was the perfect antagonist. Clear, corrupt intentions often overshadowed by his charm.
In the end, I laughed and I cried and I sat in shock and dismay that it was over, feeling as though I, too, lived three centuries in the four days it took me to read this fully.
Here's to hoping that V.E. Schwab's bargain has a long lifespan. Because the world needs more of her voice.
In part, I think it's because this book found me at the perfect time. Just a few weeks ago, an artist I deeply admired died in a tragic accident at only 32. Since then, I've been wrestling with the idea of time and what someone might be willing to give up to have more of it.
Addie Larue was willing to give up her soul for more time and the chance to live a full life beyond the bounds of marriage, babies and small town France. But, as you would expect from a deal done with a devil in the dark, her desires are exploited and she's cursed to live an eternal life of being forgotten. Everyone she meets loses all memory of her as soon as they walk away.
I found myself instantly entranced, spellbound by Schwab's velvety prose, the jagged edges of Addie's curse, her many lopsided relationships and the winding and gentle unfolding of her three centuries of infernal freedom.
And then we meet Henry, the bookstore clerk that remembers her; the only human that ever has.
Henry was an agent of relatability. He brought me back to earth with struggles a little closer to home while Addie's story had me living in the clouds. He offered the reminder that, no, you don't actually have to be born in 18th century France to experience that same violent desperation for a life that's different from your own.
But this is also where the book started to lose its grip on me. Between pages 200-300, we shift from a focus on Addie's present and past to a focus on Henry's. And, while I felt his character was important and I empathized with his struggles, I just couldn't get invested in his life the same way I had with Addie's. So, rather than drinking in every word, I found myself drudging through the Henry-heavy chapters.
Thankfully though, the last hundred pages had the same magical, marvelous quality as the first 200. I could not flip the pages fast enough as we finally got into the meat of Addie's relationship with Luc. He was the perfect antagonist. Clear, corrupt intentions often overshadowed by his charm.
In the end, I laughed and I cried and I sat in shock and dismay that it was over, feeling as though I, too, lived three centuries in the four days it took me to read this fully.
Here's to hoping that V.E. Schwab's bargain has a long lifespan. Because the world needs more of her voice.