Book Review: The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

I want to begin this review with a shoutout to my incredible, bookseller-extraordinaire roommate for snagging me an ARC this book. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue (written by V.E. Schwab and out on Tuesday, October 6th) has been one of my most anticipated reads for what feels like ages. It is no secret to anyone who knows me that V.E. Schwab is one of my absolute favorite authors. I’ve seen this most recent work of hers generating a fair amount of excitement in the months leading up to its release, and I can now confirm that it very much lives up to the hype. Am I biased? Maybe. Am I also right? Absolutely. And I’m here to tell you why.

So, as I like to think V.E. Schwab would say: buckle up, buttercups. Let’s get to the review.

I first discovered V.E. Schwab during my junior year of college back in 2016, after picking up A Darker Shade of Magic at another author’s recommendation. Since then, I have gone on to read her complete bibliography from front cover to back, and been consistently impressed as she tackled increasingly ambitious concepts. If I had to describe Schwab’s style in one word, it would be versatile. No two of Schwab’s many series are the same. Her characters are all as distinct as they are vivid. She writes for different age ranges, in different mediums, and in different genres—like it’s easy.

In continuing with this theme, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue is different from anything Schwab has written before. It is intimate and haunting, poignant and romantic. But when compared to the existing super-villain-thrillers or high fantasy, inter-dimensional adventures of that fill the rest of Schwab’s bibliography, Addie is no less ambitious.

The basic premise of the book is this: in a moment of desperation in 1714 France, a girl makes a deal to live forever. In exchange, she promises to sell her soul when she no longer wants it. Seems pretty good, right? The chance to see the world with all of the time in the world, safe in the confidence that there will always be another day so long as she chooses to greet it, would be tempting to most. But there’s a catch (because of course there is). In exchange for her newfound immortality, Addie is cursed to be forgotten by everyone she meets. No matter how much time she spends with a person, they will never be able to remember her once she’s out of sight.

That is, until the day she meets a young man in 2014 NYC who, inexplicably, is able to remember her name.

As a warning, this book deals with some heavy themes. Schwab does not shy away from topics like depression, toxic relationships, or violence. However, I think she handles them well. There is nothing gratuitous in this story; every character decision and plot point serves a clear purpose. Moreover, there is hope imbedded at the very heart of this story. So without getting in to spoiler territory, let’s talk about the plot.

One of the things I like most about Schwab’s writing is that she builds her stories like puzzles. While Addie must experience history linearly, we experience it in snippets, jumping back and forth across years and continents like skipping stones, each one a carefully-placed piece moving Schwab’s narrative forward. We get to see history unfold in some of Europe’s most iconic locations as Addie learns the boundaries of her curse. We even get some allusions to noteworthy historical figures you probably heard about in school as Addie integrates herself among various artistic movements and communities.

Much of the first half of this book is concerned with Addie coming to terms with her new life—and trying to find loopholes around its restrictions. The main source of conflict stems from her unending struggle with the god (devil/darkness/whatever you want to call him) who shows up routinely over the years—and frequently when Addie is at her most low—to see if she is ready to settle her debt. As a character, I quickly came to admire Addie’s incredible resilience and ruthlessness. Staying alive, and demonstrating that she is enjoying life in spite of the circumstances, becomes a point of pride—much to the frustration of her opponent. It becomes a war of attrition, with the Darkness concocting ploy after ploy to sway her while she struggles to remain resolute.

The interactions between these two characters, to me, were the most interesting parts of the book. It was like watching battles play out solely through dialogue. Having glimpses in to the future, and knowing where they ended up but not the how, was as frustrating as it was riveting. The introduction of Henry, our third main character and the first boy able to remember Addie in 300 years, throws a wrench in to every expectation. And to Addie, it presents an invaluable opportunity to tip the scales.

As a side note: I love Henry Straus with all my being. He is the softest, most relatable, millennial-in-the-midst-of-a-mid-life-crisis character you will ever meet. When his voice is placed at the forefront, it offers a stark contrast to Addie’s perspective. Whereas she has all the time in the world, Henry’s days are marked by the frenetic fear of never having enough, and wondering if, by worrying about the future, you are wasting the present moment.

This leads me to my overall take on the pacing of the novel, where I am going to return to that image of a puzzle. Because that was what the experience of reading this book was like. The pieces come together slowly, one interaction layering on the next until you have a basic frame, and then more quickly. Suddenly—maybe half-way through—you can make out the picture for what it is. But by the time you realize what is happening and want to slow down, you have already crested the hill, and the end is crashing towards you. It’s kind of like life, in that regard. Amazing how quickly 300 years of story can fly under the right pen.

In the end, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue is a story about many things; the insidious power of art and ideas, what it means to have a legacy, what it means to love unselfishly, and time. But more than anything else, it is about hope. Stubborn, resilient, persistent hope. It is about recognizing that life is both messy and exquisite, and that if you blink, or allow yourself to get bogged down by what you cannot control, you might miss it. It never hurts to be reminded of that fact. Or, if you will, to remember. And I think that’s beautiful.

I give Addie 7/7 stars (a joke you’ll understand after you finish the book—or maybe even just the first handful of chapters—or, heck, maybe just look at the front cover). It had everything I love in a story: memorable characters and settings, twists and turns, a heaping each of suspense and romance, and all of it told in Schwab’s distinct voice. The book isn’t even out yet, and I’m already eagerly anticipating getting my hands on the physical copy so I can start my first re-read.

As for you, you should read it because I recommended it. Read it because Schwab is and has been an author to watch. Or, read it because we’re in the middle of a pandemic and you haven’t had plans in weeks, and you could use a bit of hope. Just…read it.

(And then come find me to talk about it).