Books, she has found, are a way to live a thousand lives–or to find strength in a very long one.
Happy 2021, bookworms. My first read of the new year was The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab and let me say I started off on a strong note. This book broke me (in a good way.)
This is a love/hate story between a French girl and the devil for over 300 years. Throw in the dynamics of all the historic events, relationships, and a bargain for freedom that didn’t go as planned.
Adeline LaRue desperately wanted freedom from a mundane life and the ability to be who she wants to truly be. Her pleas were heard by the darkness himself and she was granted her wish. Of course all wishes come with conditions.
She will live forever, but she will be forgotten by everyone she meets, always slipping, like a thought, out of reach. An eternity of flitting from one place to another, never feeling quite at home anywhere, and from one person to another, leaving behind only the phantom feel of her touch, and the faint memory of seven freckles dotting her cheeks, like a scattering of stars.
That is, until a boy born with a broken heart says, “I remember you”, and it feels like a prayer. Like a crack in the mortar of her curse.
Stories are a way to preserve one’s self. To be remembered. And to forget.
When I finished this novel I wanted to throw the book across the room, Silver Linings Playbook style. It was out of good frustration though. I didn’t want the story to end, and I wanted to live in the world Schwab built for just a bit longer.
For those who are looking for a low-fantasy, historical fiction, romance book; here it is. This is the one. I plan on picking up Schwab’s other stories ASAP. Her writing style was stunning and left my heart aching. Now I need to find a new read that can even come close to this one!
But a life without art, without wonder, without beautiful things—she would go mad. She has gone mad.