The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2020

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Summary

Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Parts 6-7

Character Analysis

Themes

Symbols & Motifs

Important Quotes

Essay Topics

Book Club Questions

Themes

Ideas Are More Important than Memories

One of the book’s most common refrains is the notion that “ideas are wilder than memories” (261). This is naturally a comforting thought for a woman like Addie, whose curse causes her to be lost to the collective memory of the world, yet when she first hears this axiom, it is delivered as a taunt rather than a comfort. When Luc forcibly ejects Addie from Madame Geoffrin’s salon, he tells her that while she is free to reenter the room, given that the artists and intellectuals will have already forgotten her, “I think you’ll find my word won’t fade as fast as yours. They will not remember you, of course. But ideas are so much wilder than memories, so much faster to take root” (210). The implication is that the vague idea of Addie as a liar and con artist will linger, even if the conscious mind forgets. It is a variation of the concept explored by the 2010 film Inception—that an idea planted in the subconscious mind is far more persuasive than a conscious memory. Indeed, it may happen that one’s memories are not their own at all, but rather distortions fed by more deeply ingrained biases or attitudes.

Like so many of Luc’s cruelties and restrictions, Addie finds a way to subvert this notion to her own benefit. The first time, it happens entirely by accident: The broken wooden bird, which is either lost or stolen when Addie freezes on the streets of Paris, reemerges on a plinth in the National Gallery. It is part of a sculpture of five birds by the fictional artist Arlo Miret. Ironically, the work is titled Revenir, which in English means “to come back.”

The next few times are also by accident. An artist at Madame Geoffrin’s salon draws Addie and her distinctive constellation of freckles as she listens to Voltaire, Diderot, and other luminaries of the Enlightenment. A half-century later, the artist Matteo Renatti sketches Addie the morning after one of their many trysts, and the sketch later serves as a model for future works. Addie discovers she may be able to leave her mark on the art world with greater intention, as opposed to doing so incidentally. By the 21st century, Addie is able to serve as more than a muse; she can be an artist herself. With Toby, for example, she is directly responsible for writing the piano melody that forms the basis of his hit song, “Dream Girl.”

The fragility of memory is also expressed through Henry. As soon as Addie leaves, his memory of her begins to degrade:

It’s not that he’s fallen victim to her curse. She has not been erased in any way. The details are simply fading, as all things do, glossing over by degrees, the mind loosening its hold on the past to make way for the future. But he doesn’t want to let go. He is trying not to let go (437).

Indeed, even Henry, who wants more than anything to remember every detail about Addie, finds his memory is insufficient to the task of preserving her as she was and is. This is why he throws himself so fully into the task of converting her life story into a novel.

The Patriarchy Restricts Women’s Movement Through the World

With no one capable of remembering Addie if they are separated for even a moment, it is unsurprising that the young woman struggles to navigate the world. These struggles are rendered in great detail in Part 2, when Addie fails to eke out a sustainable existence during her first year in Paris. She survives, but only because she is immortal; a mortal would have frozen to death on any number of winter nights. The book, however, makes a compelling argument that even without the curse, Addie’s status as a woman makes it unimaginably difficult for her to survive on her own. Had Addie been a man, it is possible that she could have more easily and quickly established a workable pattern of living.

Even before the curse, Addie falls victim to patriarchal structures and assumptions. Without education and prohibited even from visiting Le Mans with her father at a certain age, Addie has only two options: Live a domestic life, trapped in a cycle of cooking, cleaning, and childrearing, or live a hermetical life like Estele. She chooses the latter. Her experience is contrasted with Remy, who hails from a similarly small town. His father permits him to obtain formal schooling—a virtual impossibility for women outside French nobility. Moreover, nobody provides much resistance when Remy chooses to abandon his community and relocate to Paris. The commonality of this experience among men is revealed in Remy’s assertion that very few of the writers, artists, and intellectuals in Paris are from Paris.

Addie, on the other hand, finds her limited options curtailed even further when the townsfolk demand she marry Roger the widower and care for his three children: “She said no, and learned how much the word was worth. [...] Estele said nothing, because she knew it wasn’t fair. Knew this was the risk of being a woman, of giving yourself to a place, instead of a person” (39). Had Addie been permitted even the smallest of concessions—the chance to live her life like Estele—she would never have made a deal with a creature of darkness in the first place.

Later, Addie will experience firsthand how much easier it is to navigate the world as a man. For much of her time in Paris, Addie dresses in men’s clothing while doing her best to hide her hair and chest. Doing so makes it no easier to find a job or a home—even the patriarchy is no match for the curse—but at least she can walk the streets unmolested and free of insults from man and woman alike.

By the 21st century, she possesses enough skills and tricks to navigate even the most forbidding spaces with confidence. Moreover, gender roles are looser than in the 18th century. Even then, however, Addie remains subject to the profoundly toxic masculinity of Luc, who by virtue of the curse continues to control her. While the novel ends with the hope that Addie will eventually outmaneuver Luc and escape his grasp, she may be doomed to centuries under his control.

The Dangers and Rewards of Being a Dreamer

The earliest characterizations of Addie label her a “dreamer.” In describing springtime in France, the author calls it a season “[w]hen dreamers were most prone to bad ideas, and wanderers were likely to get lost. Addie has always been predisposed to both” (20). This reputation spreads across the entire town: “‘A dreamer,’ scorns her mother. ‘A dreamer,’ mourns her father. ‘A dreamer,’ warns Estele. Still, it does not seem such a bad word. Until Adeline wakes up” (33).

The label of “dreamer” is representative of an artist’s impulse, the creative spark that causes individuals to feel an often obsessive need to leave their mark on the world. Such impulses are frequently encouraged in theory but condemned in practice—especially when the dreamer is a young peasant woman in early 18th-century France. Indeed, it is this very impulse that compels Addie to resist a life of domesticity so aggressively—and which in turn leads to her curse.

To blame Addie’s wandering impulses alone for her fate, however, is to ignore the patriarchal structures that back her into a corner, as described in the previous entry. Moreover, this insatiable desire to leave her mark in an artistic context helps animate Addie in her efforts to resist the urge to surrender to Luc. While some may dismiss creative impulses as narcissistic, Addie’s specific circumstances—in which she receives no credit for her impact on the world of arts and letters—contradicts this notion. Addie confronts this the morning Matteo draws her in bed:

[She] resist[s] the urge to tear the drawing from the pad, to take it with her. Every inch of her wants to have it, to keep it, to stare at the image like Narcissus in the pond. But if she takes it now, then it will find a way to disappear, or it will belong to her, and her alone, and then it will be as good as lost, forgotten (326).

Addie is resigned to being forgotten herself. Aside from her brief and beautiful time with Henry, she will probably never be remembered personally again, but to be a part of an artistic process that brings joy or insight to millions is as rewarding an experience as a “dreamer” can have. Addie is not unlike the typesetters, the inkers, and even the trees that made Voltaire’s work available to French readers. And it is for this reason that Henry’s book, which memorializes Addie as a “fictional” character, is the ultimate achievement and one not even Luc can take away from her. After the book comes out, Luc even tells her, “They can have the story. So long as I have you” (441). He fails to realize that, to Addie, the story is everything.