I actually had this book because it was one of my Book of the Month selections but kept on pushing it off. And then low and behold--just when I was about to read it-- guess what my Repose subscription gave me. I feel like I was given a karmic nudge to read this book.
I don't know why is took me so long finally sit down and read this book. I freaking love Taylor Jenkins Reid. I've read pretty much every single one of her books , and she is one out of the two authors who has received a fan letter from me (and she actually freaking responded!).
But to be fair, reading was a bit touch-and-go there for a while. Just the idea of picking up a book was exhausting, much less reading it and then perhaps writing about it. The only thing that sounded good was watching The Golden Girls and drinking coffee pretending I was at a coffee shop. That and reading mindless smut. Just terribly written smut that did not require any sort of critical thinking on my end. That is until Repose sent me The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo which happened to coincide with the culmination of my smut-a-thon after being all smutted out (take a shot every time you read smut)
I don't say out what I'm about to haphazardly because--let's be real--the book industry is just as money-lusting as any other industry out there. And that pretty much means that best-selling authors aren't always the best writers...but Taylor Jenkins Reid deserves all the accolades she gets (I feel like I just pulled a Kanye West there for a second). There is a reason why production houses are buying the rights to her stories left and right. Homegirl knows how to web a narrative.
Is she a word- connoisseur ? No. Reid has never been the author who takes up her reader's time with flowery words and paragraph-long imageries that are meant to evoke visceral emotions. And I don't really know whether this is a good or bad thing because I love me some flowery imagery, but also, what she does in-place of it works for her and her stories. Her most well-known book is Daisy and The Six and there is a reason why--despite Reid not being as suave with her words in comparison to her contemporaries--it is considered one of the best books to come out of 2019.
Instead of doing prose, she wrote in script-style, and it made for a hella good story because it elevated the chemistry between the characters as well as presenting character development in such a nuanced way. Additionally, TJR didn't cram the characters' inner thoughts and motives on to the pages to insure we as the audience know what was going on because TJR didn't care about the truth; she was more interested in what the characters experienced because their own idea and interpretation of the truth made for a much more interesting book. Basically what I'm trying to say is that what makes TJR a great author is that she knack for telling stories about people: a talent that is often taken for granted because not many people do it right. Which is why The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo makes for an interesting, captivating book.
Basically, the story about a journalist (waiting for her big break) who landed the dream job of working alongside the alluring, mysterious Evelyn Hugo was an illustrious star at the peak of career.
It's hard not to like Evelyn even though she gives us so many reasons to not. She's calculating, proud, brazen, pragmatic for her own good, and a bit over-smart. All traits that are traditionally hated when worn by a woman (because patriarchy), but they look like diamond necklaces on Evelyn. Not the gaudy looking ones that are meant to blind everyone when the wearer makes her grand entry. I'm talking about those delicate diamond necklaces that pull you in and trance you into wondering what their story might be. That's Evelyn.
She's the archetype male writers have been trying to perfect for years--a Bond girl sort--and so far, only TJR has gotten it right because alongside the allure and sensuality, Evelyn also has an aching heart, vulnerability, and her own sort of regrets--all which make her a complex, tragic heroine.
"They were going to watch it alone in a dark theater and then chastise me in public"
As we follow Evelyn's career, she begins her story as a sexualized youth when she was as young as fifteen.
Side comment, I don't care what Riverdale says: fifteen is too young to be sexualized.
In order to make it in the industry, she has to capitalize on her body. In fact, Evelyn even admits that she was so used to using her body for professional gain that it plays a big part in losing the love of her life. It's an interesting point TJR makes with Evelyn: women should never feel ashamed of their body and what they should do with it--and Evelyn never does. She may regret something but she stands by her logic and decisions--but where does autonomy end and manipulation and gaslighting begin? She only uses her body when the men in her industry make her believe she has no other choice if she wants to survive in Tinseltown. Though she's proud of her body, it bothers her that she has had to use it so often when she has the talent and the trappings of a star. Her male contemporaries don't have to work like she does, why does she? Evelyn grapples with all this as she orates her story to Monique. It gives the readers much to think about. Is how we view and treat our body symbolic to our resist against the patriarchy, or are we just subconsciously playing into the system? These are questions that--to be frank--though I know my truth, I don't know the real answer. Hence Evelyn is so important. At the end of the day, she represents our individual truth.
It makes you wonder how may famous female celebrities have been made out to be villains, vamps, or professionals that derailed their careers because we see what they want us to see. Additionally, it makes you think about what all actresses go through today because not much improvement has been made since the sixties (this point is actually made in the book by Celia). Yes, I agree that great strides have been made in the name of equality and women's rights, but in reading the book, I truly wondered if we actually tackled these issues or made just them more palatable.
"I'm bisexual. Don't ignore half of me so you can fit me into a box, Monique. Don't do that."
Like I said before, I had this book for a while before reading it, so once I had it, I didn't look into what it was about. I knew it was about a journalist who interviews an actress from the sixties and that it was written by TJR, so I was sold. Plus, I don't like knowing too much about a book. I'm the kind of person who treats every detail of a book like it's a spoiler--even when it's not--because you never know. So when it turned out that Evelyn was a bisexual woman hopelessly in love with Celia who ends up being the love of her life...I was smitten. I was a goner. My emotions: like an ocean tide.
I didn't hate Celia. I often got impatient with her, and sometimes, I found it hard to root for her. She was often spiteful and quick to misunderstand. But at the same time, she was romantic, caring, and encouraging. Somewhere along the way, I found myself falling in love with her too, and I knew that there was only one person for Evelyn: dear, lovely Celia. Had I read their love story from Celia's point of view, I think I would loved her far more earlier on in the story because I had to remind myself, Evelyn isn't easy to be with; I just happened to be reading her side of the story.
And that's another thing I liked about their love story. Neither characters were put on a pedestal. I hate when queer characters are often portrayed as the epitome of perfection similar to model minorities as if to say "we have to balance out your queerness/foreignness with morally-upstanding qualities so people can like the idea of you." It's a bit of offensive that we can't have the right to be complex while straight, white people can.
In a lot of ways, Evelyn reminds me of Freddie Mercury whom I, by the way, absolutely adore as a musician and also as a person. Like Evelyn, he has everyone around him in the palm of his hands with his tongue in cheek candor. He stands by who he is especially when it rejects conventions. And just like Evelyn (who is Cuban American), both his Indian heritage and bisexuality was ignored. It took thirty plus years for people to see him an Indian and some still reject his bisexuality (I personally know people who intentionally ignore it when I bring it up). Bi-erasure is a real issue, and I'm glad Evelyn was insistent on being seen as bisexual albeit while she was in the closet because society sucks. And not even well at that.
But what I love more about the book and Evelyn's relationship with Celia is that their story isn't meant to be a social commentary. Sure, much of their issues arose because it was dangerous to be outed as a queer individual. But Evelyn and Celia's love story is about them, period. Their story reminded me of my favorite romance novels in which they take years to come together and when they finally do, it's like sinking into your own, warm bed. Their struggles, fights, and misunderstandings are products of their own, individual complexities and fears that come with being frighteningly madly in love with a person.
"Never let anyone make you feel ordinary"
I found myself underlining a lot of Evelyn's dialogues as if she was speaking to me and I had to take notes. It was a book that changed me a little in ways that I didn't realize until I put the book down, and that's what a good book does: you come out of it feeling a little different.
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