Thank you to Tor and NetGalley for the ARC!

Have you ever read a book where, even before you finished it, you knew it would stick with you for a long time? Before I even got a quarter of the way through this book, I knew it would be one of those.

For me, it’s difficult to describe why or what exactly makes Addie LaRue one of those books. It’s more of a feeling than anything I can put into words, so this review might not actually tell you anything at all about the book itself.

I have to admit, this is the first book I’ve read by Victoria/V.E. Schwab. I’ve been aware of her for a few years, and tried to listen to an audiobook of a previous work (the narrator didn’t do it for me, so I abandoned it), but this is the first I read all the way through. I think the highest praise I can give this book is that it now makes me want to read everything else she’s written

I was immediately drawn into Addie’s world. She longed for a bigger life than the one she would have in a tiny village in 18th century France. She didn’t want to be tied to a man, raising children who were not her own and having nothing to show for it when she died. She wanted nothing more than to leave her mark on the world.

I relate to Addie in many ways: the desire to see beyond the confines of her village and to have a life of her own, not one dictated by the man she marries and the children she bears. But, of course, her willingness to give up her life as she knows it is one of the ways we definitely differ.

Addie makes a deal with the darkness; she makes a deal, in exchange for her soul, for the freedom to live as she wishes. She makes this deal to escape the life set out before her, but in exchange for that freedom, Addie is cursed to be forgotten by everyone she meets.

Addie lives almost three hundred years this way, living on the edges of the world, never leaving a mark; living through wars and innovation, turmoil and peace before she meets Henry. Henry, who works in a bookshop and remembers Addie. Three words, and her whole world is turned upside down: “I remember you.”

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Possibly my favorite thing about this book, although it is hard to narrow it down, is Addie’s relationship with the darkness, whom she christens Luc. Luc is her only constant across the centuries, the only one who remembers her. She struggles with that because to be remembered is one of her greatest wishes, but to be remembered only by the one who cursed her is almost another curse on its own. The way their relationship changes over the years, and how they are both slightly different every time they meet is one of the best parts of the book for me. The darkness claims he is not human and doesn’t love the way humans do, but there are times where he falters, and he isn’t quite as sure of himself. The push and pull between Addie and Luc ties the whole story together and makes for one of the most interesting relationships I have ever seen on the page.

One of the things that touched me most about this book is how it’s tinged in sadness. You might guess from the title that an invisible life is necessarily a sad one, and while that isn’t entirely true all the time, the sadness and melancholy is woven throughout the book, almost like a character itself.

But there is also hope, happiness, love, desire, and so many other things. Which makes sense, for a life lived across three centuries.

This book broke my heart, in the best way. I just finished it, and I already want to read it again. I want to be immersed in Addie’s world and live her three hundred years with her, over and over again.