An Extraordinary Life

*Spoilers ahead!* I decided to read this book despite the friends who told me it was boring, that the last 100 pages were the only good parts, or that it was sloppy. I'm glad I decided to read it to form my own opinion. I have not been as impressed as I am with an author's ability to simply weave a story out of good writing in quite some time. The sheer amount of unique figurative language was enough to leave me sighing over fantastically sculpted sentences that brought every interesting character to life. And the novel's entire concept is honestly genius: to question the innately human need to be remembered as well as loved within the fictional terrain of a invisible as well as immortal woman is phenomenal. And Schwab crafts her story so delicately, so intricately, to the point where I couldn't imagine how she could have written it any other way, despite the many possibilities that this kind of storyline holds. I loved the back and forth between Addie's journey through centuries, with only the god who cursed her for company, and her present life in 2014 in New York. I feel like allowing readers to see the trials, beautiful nights, and cloudy mornings of love that Addie had to suffer through serves to build her character as well as the brevity of a life lived alone, but free. And the constant emphasis on the importance of names really touched me. I think that this concept tapped into another human need, which is to simply belong to something, even if it's nothing more than a title. When Addie finally meets Henry, and you begin to sense that her meeting this boy is so much more than coincidence... wow, I found myself more invested than I thought I'd be. When it comes to Luc, however, I honestly don't know how I feel regarding the full scope of his character development. He is introduced as an extension of evil itself, ironically guised as Addie's fictional lover and saving grace. And then he is her prison guard, visiting her on their "anniversaries" to mock and attempt to convince her to surrender her soul to him. The constant game of cat and mouse finally gives way to a different kind of unspoken tension that soon turns into sex that soon turns into what Luc wants to call love, but Addie is wise enough to detect as passion fueled by the desire to claim a prize. It felt right for the relationship to progress in the way it did, but also strange and somewhat unsettling for Addie to partake sexually with the dark itself. It's a difficult concept to wrap my head around, but I suspect that it is meant to be unsettling and otherworldly to accentuate the fact that Addie is no longer human and longing for the connection she has lacked. All in all, I am glad that the story ends with Henry being given back his life, and that he actually goes out and does something with it. The gift of remembering the girl he loved is bittersweetly painful, but allows him to publish the story she was able to tell through his words and handwriting. I loved how Henry overcame the storms that raged within his head with her help (and how mental health was portrayed in this novel in general), and even went above and beyond to do something that extended beyond himself; the way I look at it, he gave Addie the best gift he could give her besides his imperfect love. I do wish that there was a more concrete way of knowing if Addie was successful in besting Luc at his own game with the semantics of their new deal, but I also relish in the mystery of assuming that she will either win or lose, continuing to live as the mysterious girl who exists within the mind of one human, one god, and countless works of art. 



Some of my favorite lines from The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue:

"What is a person, if not the marks they leave behind?"

"It is the blankness of the paper that excites her, the idea that she might fill the space with anything she likes."

"Stories are a way to preserve one's self. To be remembered. And to forget.
Stories come in so many forms: in charcoal, and in song, in paintings, poems, films. And books. 
​Books, she has found, are a way to live a thousand lives--or to find strength in a very long one."

"There is a defiance in being a dreamer."

"He has the kind of face, she thinks, that can't keep secrets well."

"'I remember you.'
Three words, large enough to tip the world.
I remember you."

"Live long enough, and you learn how to read a person. To ease them open like a book, some passages underlined and other hidden between the lines."

"Why, a world without reading, I cannot fathom it."

"How could anyone forget this girl, when she takes up so much space? She fills the room with stories, with laughter, with warmth and light."

"Teaching is an extension of learning, a way to be a perpetual student."

"And this, he decides, is what a good-bye should be.
Not a period, but an ellipsis, a statement trailing off, until someone is there to pick it up.
It is a door left open.
It is drifting off to sleep."

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