*Warning, we get super spoilery in the comments, so please venture there at your peril*
Source of book: Bought by me
Relevant disclaimers: I contributed to the author’s newsletter once and we had some email exchanges related to that
Please note: This review may not be reproduced or quoted, in whole or in part, without explicit consent from the author.
God help me, this was horrifying. Like, brilliantly horrifying. I read it in a single sitting and haven’t stopped thinking about it since. It’s so extraordinarily good that I’ve been, err, essentially hand selling it to anybody who has spoken to me recently. Including the nurse who gave me my COVID booster and made the mistake of saying “I see you’ve brought your Kindle with you” as a polite attempt to distract me from the, y’know, the ginormous needle plunging into my arm.
Anyway, for all I try to maintain a robust attitude to spoilers (there are many reasons to consume a piece of art beyond the mere mechanics of what happens next), this is a book where I genuinely feel giving too much away would negatively impact your reading experience. So my comments are going to come in essentially three parts, in order to least-to-most spoiler.
Part 1
If you have not read The Echo Wife, and you like my taste in general, OH MY FUCKING GOD READ THIS RIGHT NOW. Literally stop whatever you are doing, get this book, put in face. Talk to me about it after. Seriously, talk to me about it after. I need to talk about this thing.
Part 2
If you have not read The Echo Wife and need a bit more than me yelling about it, here’s the cliff notes. The Echo Wife is a domestic thriller with lowkey SFnal elements. Two great tastes that, in Gailey’s hands, go incredibly well together. Although for people who are slightly apprehensive of too much science fiction stuff, let me clarify: its presence is always used in service to the themes of the book and developing our understanding of the protagonists. For those who enjoy Gailey for their intricate world-building and are therefore slightly apprehensive of the science fiction stuff being lightly sketched, let me clarify: there is still a shit tonne of world-building in this book, it’s just it’s EMOTIONAL world-building.
The book opens with its protagonist, an ambitious, borderline obsessive, research scientist, winning an extremely prestigious award for her breakthroughs in the development of cloning. Unfortunately, this moment is triumph is rather marred for her, by the fact her husband has recently left her…
… for a clone of herself he has stolen her own technology to create.
And that’s all you’re getting. But that’s JUST the first three chapters, and the book only gets stranger and darker from there.
So, uh, go read it, yeah?
Part 3
(This will contain spoilers. I’ll try, however, not to ruin the whole book)
Honestly, I think The Echo Wife might be one of the most well-constructed thrillers I’ve ever read. Moving fluidly between the present and the past (Evelyn’s situation now and the abusive childhood that helped shaped her into who she is), it never lets up and never stops surprising you—and what’s extra remarkable is those surprises never feel forced. Ironically enough, the very nature of thrillers—to shock—can sometimes damage their capacity to shock: here the various twists and escalations retain their integrity because they also feel kind of inevitable, arising naturally from character and circumstances the text has already established.
Even Evelyn’s unreliability functions in intriguing ways. Her first act in the book is putting on a dress to serve as armour as she goes to receive her award and face down her colleagues about her marriage falling apart. And yet here’s the thing, she never takes that armour off, even for a moment, even for the reader, even, perhaps, for herself? All of which makes her just about the worst possible person to tell this story. But she’s what we’ve got. And what’s especially weird about the narrative power she exerts is that, while she never outright lies, she has a way of … not just withholding, but occluding elements of her world, her work, her family, she either she doesn’t want to see or she doesn’t want us to see.
Take the cloning, for example. Her technique allows clones to be created with fully intact memories of the subject: they are then conditioned to match them physically and emotionally, and can be used as temporary substitutes (i.e. as a body double for a president) before they are disposed are. We learn this early on. If you stop and think for a moment, it’s fucking horrific. Soylent green is people. No, seriously, though. Those are PEOPLE. Those are undeniably people: yes they are created in a lab (but then so are many of us) and specifically programmed and conditioned to fulfil certain roles (but isn’t that what childhood is, anyway?) but if you create someone with memories and a sense of self … that’s a fucking person. That’s not biowaste. Again, we learn this very, very early in the story. It shouldn’t be a shock when the book asks us, time and time and time again in different ways, to face the reality of what is happening here: but such is Evelyn’s aggressive control of the narrative that it’s … um. Incredibly easy to ignore? To accept her language of specimens and biowaste, and not allow yourself to see beyond it.
And yet seeing beyond Evelyn is a vital part of reading The Echo Wife. She tells us early on that she had no idea her marriage in trouble, although she does reflect on all the evidence she should have picked on: receipts, her husband’s long absences etc. Except the more you hear about the marriage (and, please, I am very much NOT on her husband’s side here, I am really not) the more it becomes more obvious than obvious that the marriage was in severe emotional crisis long before Nathan started leaving receipts on the bedside table. Because, the truth is, it’s not just that Evelyn doesn’t see the people she’s creating in her lab, she doesn’t see ANY people: she doesn’t fully recognise the reality of anyone around her. She is not to be trusted.
Except, you know, I didn’t want to be that male reader judging this fictional woman scientist harshly. Because, whatever else her flaws as a person and a narrator, and she has many of both, her observations about the place of women in science and academia are a hundred percent correct. It’s also clear that she’s a victim of abuse, both from her father, and in her marriage—although she never quite fully addresses either (her father is threatens her with physical violence at least once, but the time he actually does inflict it on her, she cuts it almost entirely from the text, there’s just a broken wrist with no acknowledged source). So I gave her the benefit of the doubt over and over and over again. Believed her, when I shouldn’t have been reading critically. And, by the end, was left with the slight sick realisation that Evelyn, as a narrator, had essentially bullied, manipulated and controlled me in precisely the same way she does everyone else in the text.
The Echo Wife is a domestic thriller, yes, with SFnal elements. It is also an exploration of the philosophy of identity. Of the roles we occupy, professionally and socially and personally, and the ways those roles are shaped by gender, by experience, by abuse. The way it possible to be both a survivor and perpetrator of abuse. It questions what qualities are inherent to us, and what are merely programmed, and whether the difference means anything at all. And lays bare the complexities of *seeing*, both who we are and who other people are: the idea that, deep down, we may all be capable of reducing whoever we need to not care about right now to specimens and biowaste.
I’m just dizzy with admiration for this book and shaken to the core. Seriously, will you just read it already?