La Deuxième Femme

by Louise Mey

Sandrine ne s'aime pas. Elle trouve son corps trop gros, son visage trop fade. Timide, mal à l'aise, elle bafouille quand on hausse la voix, reste muette durant les déjeuners entre collègues.
Mais plus rien de cela ne compte le jour où elle rencontre son homme, et qu’il lui fait une place. Une place dans sa maison, auprès de son fils, sa maison où il manque une femme. La première. Elle a disparu, elle est présumée morte, et Sandrine, discrète, aimante, reconnaissante, se glisse dans cette absence, fait de son mieux pour redonner le sourire au mari endeuillé et au petit Mathias.
Mais ce n'est pas son fils, ce n'est pas son homme, la première femme était là avant, la première femme était là d'abord. Et le jour où elle réapparaît, vivante, le monde de Sandrine s’écroule.

Genres: Thriller, Fiction, Feminism, France, Crime, Roman, Mystery

348 pages, Mass Market Paperback

First published January 15, 2020

About the author

Louise Mey is a Paris-based author of contemporary noir novels dealing with themes of domestic and sexual violence, and harassment, often with a feminist slant. The Second Woman is her fourth novel, but the first to be translated into English.

Reviews

[Pauline · Rating 5 out of 5]

[ coup de cœur ] Un livre lu d’une traite ou presque, tant il m’était impossible de le lâcher.

C’était la première fois que je rencontrais le style de Louise Mey, et aussi la première fois que je lisais un thriller écrit par une autrice dont je savais auparavant qu’elle est ouvertement féministe. La thématique ne m’était pas inconnue non plus : La Deuxième femme mérite des content warnings. Relation abusive, violences conjugales, violences sexuelles. Ces sujets sont le sujet du livre.

On rencontre Sandrine, qui ne s’aime pas beaucoup mais qui va mieux depuis qu’elle a rencontré « l’homme qui pleure », celui qui a redonné une couleur à sa vie. Cet homme n’aura pas de nom, jamais. Il n’aura que ses actes pour le définir. Elle s’attache à lui parce qu’il pleure, et il ne pleure pas pour rien : sa femme, la première femme, a disparu. On a retrouvé ses vêtements, elle est présumée morte. Cet homme a un fils, et ensemble avec Sandrine, ils recomposent une famille. Jusqu’à ce que la première femme revienne. Pas morte du tout, mais amnésique. Et que cela mette l’équilibre très précaire de la vie de Sandrine en péril.

J’ai aimé : les meufs. Il y en a plein, elles sont fortes et fragiles et elles font de leur mieux et elles sont humaines. J’ai aimé leur sororité. Sandrine et ses failles m’ont brisé le cœur. Le petit Mathias, c’est assez rare que je m’attache aux enfants dans les fictions car je les trouve souvent mal écrits, quand ils ne sont pas les protagonistes de l’histoire. Mais là, cet enfant, il m’a émue et attrapée aux tripes. J’ai aimé la subtilité glaçante du point de vue de Sandrine, écrit avec une maîtrise du sujet louable et une immense empathie. J’ai aimé l’oralité du style, au début c’était un peu déroutant, ces litanies et ces répétitions, mais au bout de quelques pages je me suis habituée et j’étais dans la tête de Sandrine.

Je n’ai pas de reproche à faire à ce livre. Il réussit le tour de maître de faire passer des messages sans être lourdingue, il se lit comme les meilleurs thrillers, et il est très émouvant.

Au-delà de son propos politique, je salue son existence, après des années à lire des thrillers où les violences subies par les femmes ne sont que des mécanismes, que des prétextes, et où lesdites femmes ne sont jamais les sujets des histoires et ne sont que des victimes. La Deuxième femme est la preuve qu’il est possible de parler de violences faites aux femmes tout en faisant d’elles les agentes de leur propre histoire, avec beaucoup d’humanité.

C’est une lecture qui peut être dure et qui peut réveiller des traumatismes donc je la conseille chaudement, mais avec aussi beaucoup de bienveillance envers les femmes concernées. Take care.

[Roman Clodia · Rating 5 out of 5]

He is not angry, he just wants to frighten her, remind her who's in charge. Petrify her. Immobilise her.

Make no mistake, this is a deep-dive into the chilling consciousness of a woman living in a relationship of coercive control filled with psychological violence as well as the more common physical brutality.

Mey has written this in the present tense and completely through Sandrine's point of view so that we live through this experience with her: her constant double-guessing, her suppression of that inner voice that tells her this is not right, her concerns for the child Mathias and her own hopes for a baby.

There's nothing glib about this book and Mey seems to have done her research very well (see her afterword for the shocking statistics) - she also doesn't turn this into a thriller. There's very little plot which would have seemed, somehow, disrespectful of the experiences being charted, reflective of that of so many women trapped or haunted by such toxic masculinity.

One of the most chilling scenes is where the father tries to impose a catechism of hateful misogyny on his son, too young to know what he is learning as he repeats obediently that all women are dirty liars.

I love the nuance of the book: the male cop who makes mistakes as he struggles to undo his own cultural understanding of violence against women; the older man who is too awkward about touching violated women in case his own intentions are on a continuum with that of their abusers.

This is hard to read at times but is also enlightening and crucially important - especially for those of us lucky enough (and isn't it only luck?) never to have lived through this experience in real life.

Thanks to Pushkin Press for an ARC via NetGalley, and a book I'll be urging all my friends, male and female, to read.

[Laurelas · Rating 5 out of 5]

Quel livre remarquable. Nul doute que La Deuxième Femme ne peut laisser indifférent‧e.

Au tout début de ma lecture, l'oralité du style m'a un peu décontenancée, et Sandrine avec son désamour profond pour elle-même m'a mise un peu mal à l'aise, j'ai trouvé ça trop. Et puis j'ai compris : l'ampleur de l'emprise, de la manipulation psychologique qui est à l'origine de tout ça, facilitée par la fragilité d'une existence dénuée de tendresse et d'amour.

Je n'ai jamais fait confiance à l'homme qui pleure, je savais aussi de quoi parlait ce livre, et tout chez lui a provoqué méfiance en moi. Puis l'homme qui pleure est devenu M. Langlois, et il n'a jamais été quelqu'un d'autre que ce petit homme, mesquin, violent et dangereux. Mais assez parlé de lui.

La tension de l'intrigue est savamment distillée tout au long du roman, tout comme l'ampleur de l'emprise, de la violence est dévoilée au fur et à mesure. C'est brillant, mais c'est dur, de plus en plus dur à lire. Mais qu'est-ce que c'est bien écrit.

Les femmes du récit m'ont toutes touchées, et leur présence, leur force, leur humanité et leur douceur aussi ont véritablement donné corps à leurs personnages. Et puis, je ne lis pas beaucoup de thrillers ou de romans noirs (la vie est suffisamment dure comme ça parfois) mais pour une fois que la violence faite aux femmes est racontée de l'intérieur, avec tant de subtilité, de psychologie, sans en faire un vulgaire ressort de récit, il convient de le saluer.

Mon coeur s'est emballé dans les derniers chapitres, la tension était à son apogée et j'ai refermé le livre en sanglotant, pour évacuer toute cette tension, et parce que le dernier chapitre a été lu quasiment en apnée. Quel intense moment de lecture.

Remarquable. Mais difficile, alors surtout gardez à l'esprit ces content warnings : violence physique et psychologique, violences sexuelles, relation abusive. Ils pourraient réveiller des traumatismes, alors prenez soin de vous.

[Elsa · Rating 5 out of 5]

Oh purée je vais me prendre la journée pour me ré-entrainer à respirer.
Wow.

[Laetitia Mars · Rating 5 out of 5]

Putain de chef d’œuvre qui m’a noué la gorge tout du long. Ce texte va me hanter très longtemps.

[ღ winter ღ · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5/5

"When he said sorry, it was always "I'm sorry, but..." And the "but" was always because it was my fault."

"He got me all mixed up in my head. He persuaded me I was repulsive, but that he still wanted me because he was being generous and kind. I didn't want it, but I felt almost grateful. He was raping me and I had to say thank you."

Brilliant and realistic depiction of abusive relationships, domestic violence and coercive control. Love the author's writing, how well each of the characters are written. How violent and dangerous toxic masculinity philosophy is. And how readers get to experience the main character's insecurities, where they stemmed from, and ultimately why she fell into the hands of a narcissistic abuser.

An important point the book managed to convey is why women who are in such abusive relationships have a hard time leaving, because it isn't as easy as it looks. Psychological violence builds slowly over time until it eventually cements and overtakes your entire self. From start to end, this book is amazing.

[Lisa · Rating 5 out of 5]

Lire LA DEUXIEME FEMME c’est se glisser dans le corps et la tête de Sandrine. C’est être Sandrine. C’est se détester, ne rien valoir, puis y croire, aimer, et ne pas voir, ne pas vouloir voir, voir et fermer les yeux, voir et ne plus pouvoir fermer les yeux. Subir, résister, souffrir, mourir, mais rester, survivre, partir, revenir et peut-être enfin s’en sortir. C’est faire, le temps de trois-cent pages, l’expérience de l’horreur des violences physiques et psychologiques intrafamiliales.

La grande force de LA DEUXIEME FEMME réside moins dans l’intrigue autour de la « première femme » que dans la description du mécanisme de l’emprise. Je suis donc mal à l’aise avec l’étiquette polar. D’autant que les sévices décrits et la palette des émotions et états dépeints par Louise Mey sont le quotidien de trop nombreuses victimes, quotidien que l’on ne saurait qualifier de polar.

En revanche, féministe, LA DEUXIEME FEMME l’est résolument. D’abord, il aborde frontalement la question des violences conjugales et met en lumière les nombreuses formes qu’elles peuvent prendre, dont certaines sont encore mal comprises. Ce devrait être une lecture obligatoire pour certaines personnes. Au hasard les (insert insulte) qui en sont encore à se demander pourquoi la femme n’est tout simplement pas partie plus tôt. Mais surtout, tout est narré du point de vue de la victime, l’autrice lui conservant par là toute sa place de sujet. Malgré toutes les tentatives de la réduire au rang d’objet, Sandrine est et reste sujet.

TW Ce roman est difficile à lire, certains passages sont particulièrement durs. Assurez-vous donc de l’aborder dans de bonnes conditions.

[Andréanne Lauzon · Rating 5 out of 5]

Finir en pleurs. Lecture dure et nécessaire.

[8stitches 9lives · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Second Woman is a gripping and visceral domestic-based psychological thriller about the impact of trauma and abuse on a family. Sandrine doesn't love herself and describes herself as ugly. She finds her body too big, her face too bland. Shy and uncomfortable, she stammers when you raise your voice and remains largely silent during lunches with colleagues. She is a lonely woman, deeply complex and marked by a body that she does not assume. But none of that matters the day she meets her man, Mr Langois, and he makes room for her. A place in his house, near his son, his house where a woman is missing. The first one. His first partner. She has disappeared, she is presumed dead, and Sandrine, discreet, loving and grateful, slips into this absence doing her best to bring back a smile to the grieving husband and little Mathias. But it's not really her stepson, and it's not really her man, the first woman was there before, the first woman was there first. And the day she reappears alive, Sandrine's world crumbles and falls apart.

This is a compelling and thought-provokingly profound mystery thriller and it becomes increasingly chilling as it progresses. The twists and turns are mainly related to the origin of the disappearance of the first woman who gradually comes to join the life of Sandrine in an insidious or even perhaps demonic way. It's very well written and tells the story of the escalation of a woman who just wanted to be loved, to love in return, to afford a life like any other, to hold her man's hand in the street, to experience all his live and affection and to fall asleep and wake up with the one she loves. An obsession linked to poor confidence that will lead her into a swampy labyrinth where shameless monsters roam. The suspense comes in rich waves and the atmosphere becomes fraught with unbearable tension when Langois’ wife returns and begins her manipulation. A powerful story about the psychological mechanisms of violence, this is an immersive read which is anxiety-inducing but that you still somehow can't turn away from.

[Liz Barnsley · Rating 4 out of 5]

A really addictive slice of domestic noir with an intricate and engaging main protagonist and a darkly evocative plot about what happens when a missing person returns...

The prose is literary in style and descriptively deep really digging into the psychological aspects of the plot, creating a slow burn towards the ultimate resolution.

A brilliantly portrayed character drama.

[Klem · Rating 5 out of 5]

Pauline Harmange a fait une review parfaite de ce livre alors je ne serais pas très longue.
Mais c’est la preuve qu’on peut écrire une fiction avec un style époustouflant, un propos politique fort, des personnes tous plus émouvants / bien écrits les uns que les autres, avec un suspens digne des meilleurs thrillers. Mais surtout l’écriture, aiguisée, intelligente, j’ai À - DO - RÉ.
C’est un GRAND GRAND OUI.

[SadieReadsAgain · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sandrine is a lonely, socially awkward woman. She had an abusive upbringing and is plagued by a crippling hatred of her body. When she sees a distraught husband on television appealing for help after the disappearance of his wife, she is drawn to him and compelled to join a search for the woman. There she meets the man face to face, and as the wife is assumed dead their relationship develops. Sandrine is besotted and slips comfortably into life with "the man who cried" and his son, but when his wife is found, it becomes apparent that things are not as they seem.

This book is fascinating, tense and unputdownable. Mey is a master of conceal and reveal, with the truth of Sandrine's relationship being slowly exposed whilst the truth of what happened to the "first woman" coming clearer. This book is not an easy read, but a very authentic portrayal of an abusive situation and the reluctance to admit the truth of it to yourself or the outside world.

I really enjoyed this book, it's a noir thriller that retains a literary sensibility. It gives me vibes of Lullaby by Leïla Slimani, clearly there is something about French noir that hits the spot for me. I thought it was perfectly paced, and the characters feel very real and relatable. I wasn't keen on the extent of body criticism Sandrine levels at herself, but at the same time found it very telling that rarely does anyone around her mirror the things she thinks about herself and so it does show how her lack of self esteem led her into the situation in which she finds herself.

A gripping story that held me to the end. I'll definitely be looking out more translations of this author in future.


I received a Netgalley of this title from Pushkin Press in return for a review. All opinions are my own.

[Fictionophile · Rating 5 out of 5]

I took part in the Pushkin Press read-along for this title and it was very interesting to glean other reader's thoughts on the novel.

This was an intense story that was often uncomfortable to read. Nevertheless, I was engrossed in Sandrine's untenable situation. At first I found her constant self-denigration to be tedious, but as I came to know her better, I liked her a bit better and sympathized with her plight. By the end of the book, I loved Sandrine.

This is a disturbing portrait of spousal abuse. It is about coercive, manipulative, control over another person. Monsieur Langlois was a cruel egotist, a proprietorial man who was totally devoid of empathy. Sandrine learned to be obedient, silent, and aware of every nuance of HIS moods and mannerisms.

I loved the way Sandrine came to care for the small boy, and how she learned the limits of her own strength.

The ending was fitting, though some might consider it a tad ambiguous. In this instance, I believe the reader must decide for themselves certain aspects of the resolution. Your heart might be healthier that way.

"The Second Woman" was an remarkable read that will remain in my memory for some time.  Highly recommended.

[Lune · Rating 4 out of 5]

Je n'ai pas pour habitude de lire des thrillers, mais ça m'a fait vraiment du bien d'être totalement absorbée par un livre, à devoir me forcer de faire des pauses dans la lecture. Ca m'a rappelé des moments de lecture enfantin, à attendre avec impatience la résolution.
Ce livre est dur, très dur, parfois il donne la nausée, mais je pense que c'est un livre qui parle très très bien de ce que c'est l'emprise au quotidien, de la réalité des violences conjugales, et l'autrice se positionne narrativement très clairement contre ces violences, ce qui est cool. C'est vraiment un livre terrifiant par son réalisme.

[Sailor Supergirl · Rating 5 out of 5]

Époustouflant

[Akylina · Rating 4 out of 5]

Review to come.

[Sheri · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sandrine, once an abused child, has grown into a woman with no sense of her own worth or ability to protect herself. All too easily, she is drawn into a relationship with a man she saw on the news - a man who cried for his missing wife. Soon, Sandrine is living with the man who cried and his young son, Mathias, the child of the first woman - the woman who disappeared, presumed dead. When the first woman, Caroline, returns from the dead, where does that leave Sandrine?

The Second Woman is not an easy read. Told from Sandrine's viewpoint, her relentless self-hatred is hard to take. Her acceptance of her treatment in a relationship that's about as toxic as relationships get is painful to read. We are desperate for her to break free, and for little Mathias, who she loves, to be protected from his father's malign influence.

The man is never given a first name - maybe he doesn't deserve one, maybe it would humanise him too much - though we sometimes know him as Monsieur Langlois.

Men in general don't come out of this too well - it seems that Sandrine has been abused in some way by just about every man she has encountered in her life - although there are a couple of good ones. Caroline's father, Patrice, is kind and gentle. The male police officer (though he also lacks a name) is not perfect but willing to learn.

A darkly compelling read about coercive control, pervasive misogyny and ultimate survival. Recommended, but be aware that this has difficult and distressing themes.

[Delphine B · Rating 5 out of 5]

Après le roman de Claire Norton Celle Que je suis, lu il y a quelques semaines, j'ai découvert sur Babelio celui de Louise Mey sur le même thème de l'emprise et des violences conjugales. Les critiques élogieuses m'ont donné envie de découvrir cette auteure, et je dois dire - sans mauvais jeu de mots - que ce roman est une vraie claque !

Dire que Sandrine n'a pas confiance en elle est un euphémisme. Enfant, son père lui a répété qu'elle était grosse, laide. Alors devenue adulte, elle est une femme qui rase les murs au bureau, accepte et comprend que personne ne prête attention à elle. Un jour, elle est touchée par un homme éploré à la télévision : sa femme, Caroline, a disparu ; il se retrouve seul avec leur petit garçon Mathias. Elle décide d'aller le voir, chez lui, de lui dire qu'elle compatit. Elle le console, le trouve séduisant. Il la fait parler, il est le premier à s'intéresser à elle. Elle devient alors la deuxième femme, aimante et discrète, aux petits soins. Mais un jour, réapparaît Caroline, amnésique... Que lui est-il arrivé ? Peut-elle retrouver sa place de mère ? D'épouse ?

J'ai d'emblée apprécié ce récit au présent, au style lapidaire très efficace. L'auteure décortique méthodiquement les étapes successives de l'emprise et de la maltraitance conjugale dans laquelle Sandrine est progressivement enfermée.

Le roman prend aussi par moments une tournure préventive utile pour des lectrices qui pourraient subir le même quotidien que Sandrine. Le fascicule que lui donne la gynécologue  intitulé "Votre conjoint est-il contrôlant ?" analyse subtilement les mécanismes de maltraitance psychologique avant la violence physique.

Un roman terrible, vraiment percutant, sur l'enfer domestique que vivent certaines femmes.

[Lolly K Dandeneau · Rating 5 out of 5]

via my blog: https://bookstalkerblog.wordpress.com/
𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌, 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒈𝒂𝒛𝒆: 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒚. 𝑰𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕, 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒆, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆.

It isn’t a lie, this is a brutal, immersive novel and one that left me feeling the despair that Sandrine faces living in her skin. She is disgusted by her existence and her imperfect body, prefers to avoid her dreadful reflection in the mirror. It’s not a mystery why women feel ashamed of not living up to ‘ideal’ standards of beauty, nor is it hard to wonder how someone like Sandrine has turned a cruel, critical eye on herself. There is a weakness in her, a disappearing self and yet she is tender and caring of others, which is what leads her to fall for a man whose wife, Caroline, has disappeared. “She felt a wave of sorrow sweep over her”, when she first heard him appealing for help, sobbing over his missing wife on television and the radio. Deciding to take part in a “White Walk” (search) the missing woman’s parents set up, she meets him for the first time, and admits she is there because of him. She felt so sorry for his pain and loss, she was there for him, not so much Caroline. She goes back to her lonely little life, hating the weekends when she is not at work, left to her own company. She hates her own miserable company. News comes that points to the harsh reality the Caroline is likely never coming back and something horrible happened to her. Just when Sandrine thinks there is no hope and she should just end it all, the man contacts her and so begins her life as the second woman.

Sandrine is soon living with the man and his young son, Martin. Their passion is immediate and intense. She loves him with abandon, trembling for his every touch. He possesses her in a way she has always longed to be wanted. Suddenly, she has her forever, her happy ending and if she is standing in the former woman’s life, so be it. She cannot deny that Martin, the boy, is troubled, such a timid, sad child. It isn’t her place to be more than ‘fond’ of the boy, who isn’t truly hers. He is a clever boy, she knows that right away and if his father is often brusque with him, it is only because he wants to toughen him up. Her man, he is quick to anger, but it’s only natural with what he has been through. They fall into a rhythm of their own and she is even wearing clothes that delight her partner, despite feeling such garments don’t flatter her. He knows best, and she wants to please. She abides by his every desire, demands. His ways are set, she wants to mold herself to fit his needs. They have their routines now but suddenly, the missing woman is on television, her memory clouded, lost. That’s when everything spirals out of control.

Living with Martin expanded her universe, but the outside shrinks, including work. He likes his privacy; from the start he cautioned her against confiding in others. Certainly, there was talk, people who thought he killed his wife, but she refused to reveal anything to her co-workers, protective of their love. Who are others to pry, anyway? Now, with Caroline found alive, there would be more curiosity seekers. Worse, Caroline is going to be coming back to the house, hoping to ignite her forgotten memories, spending time with her son Martin. Her beloved doesn’t exactly embrace the idea, in fact, he meets it with scorn. He feels invaded, and how should Sandrine feel? Is Caroline competition? It’s all too bizarre to contemplate.

Caroline arrives with her parents and two police officers by her side. Sandrine’s beloved, thankfully, seems emotionally detached, leaving her feeling strangely relieved. Maybe her life with him is secure and Caroline isn’t a threat? She doesn’t remember anything, not yet. Sandrine doesn’t want to hear what the cops have to say, she wishes Caroline would just go away again but soon she wants more time with her son, Martin and Sandrine’s beloved doesn’t like that. In fact, it infuriates him as does the way everyone seems to be judging him, looking at him with suspicion. Their life together is being probed and he is angered by what Sandrine might say. He takes it out on her, and she agrees with him, how dare these people assume things, he is a good man! The female cop is harassing them and it’s making life unbearable for her man. Right now, Sandrine has news, happy news, but how can she share it? Her beloved is confiding more about Caroline and their troubled marriage, how difficult his wife was. Secrets he never revealed to others. Why is the female cop fishing for information from Sandrine? Sandrine doesn’t know who Caroline is, she is a mystery to her.

Her man is getting more and more irate, over time, accusing her of speaking for him when truthfully, Sandrine is only trying to protect him. She can no longer gauge with accuracy what will upset him and how to avoid inflaming him. It is all coming apart. She cannot retreat deep enough into herself to keep their life contained. Caroline is remembering things, who will Sandrine believe?

What a ride! If you get triggered by abuse, you won’t be able to read this. Sandrine is filled with so much self-loathing she practically embraces it from others. Love and hate are the same for someone like her, and it’s heartbreaking. How easy it is to slip from lover to prisoner. The threat of humiliation, shame is often what keeps women walled in too. I don’t want to give anything away, this book spirals into darkness. It is a woman’s horror story! Yes, read it!

Publication Date: May 30, 2023

Pushkin Press

[CharlesJoli · Rating 5 out of 5]

Époustouflée par la manière dont l'autrice parvient à nous placer dans la tête de Sandrine, la protagoniste. J'ai été complètement bouleversée et j'ai encore du mal à en sortir et trouver les mots pour en parler.

[timmyh · Rating 3 out of 5]

sororité #teamLisa

[Arthur · Rating 5 out of 5]

À mettre entre les mains de tous ceux qui disent qu'elle "aurait dû partir"...

[Dārta Daneviča · Rating 4 out of 5]

Šī grāmata ir burtiski rokasgrāmata...enciklopēdija vardarbībai, kas notiek mājās, aiz slēgtām durvīm. Nevienam nezinot. Un lieliski izskaidro, kādēļ no tās ir tik grūti izrauties, attēlojot sievietes iekšējo stāvokli, ilgstoši atrodoties varmākas ietekmē, viņas domu gaitu, sajūtas un varmākas mērķtiecīgi panākto iekšējo un ārējo apātiju. Izlasīju vienā vakarā.

[Tamara · Rating 5 out of 5]

Une histoire très forte sur les violences conjugales et intrafamilliales et la manière dont l'emprise s'installe. C'est une lecture qui, à mon avis, pourrait aider des victimes à prendre conscience de leur situation. Certains passages peuvent être difficiles à lire.

[Corinne]

Wow
C'était magistral

[Kyle C · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a harrowing novel about a woman's life suffering domestic abuse. Sandrine is a meek, docile woman and has little confidence in herself. She spends her day belittling herself with disparaging self-talk (calling herself repeatedly a "stupid, fat bitch"). She has internalized the misogynistic judgment of her father and depends on her partner for validation. Years ago she had seen him on the television crying after the disappearance of his wife and she immediately fell in love with him, naively enamored with his breast-beating display of grief. She confused the spectacle of emotion with authentic love. Now she lives with him and patiently endures his daily humiliations and narcissistic sadism, just in return for those fleeting moments when he distractedly strokes her belly in front of the television. She relishes those chance moments of cheap bliss. She thinks that when he holds her neck he is expressing true love rather than more sinisterly asserting possession over her. But when the first wife reappears suffering from total amnesia, Sandrine is forced to reconsider what her role in the family will be.

It's a grim portrait of the psychological effects of domestic abuse—the woman's demure subservience, her relentless self-blaming, her apologetic self-effacement. Her partner, on the other hand, is a boorish patriarch, manipulative and violent. He teaches his quiet, sensitive son not to cry but to fight, and never to be in the kitchen. His whole idea of masculinity is rooted in a tyrannical sense of male dominance and entitlement. What the novel astutely shows is how that patriarchal entitlement works in such an insidiously effective way—when her partner capriciously gives and then withholds his affection, when he turns his violent outbursts into an accusation about her, he warps her whole sense of self-worth. He gaslights her into believing that all of his actions are actually her fault. He is the good one who cries for love; she is the abject failure. Even the first wife, a feminist, an aspiring veterinarian, was ensnared by her abusive husband's one-two tactic of humiliating her and then blaming her. The same acts of humiliation only rendered her more vulnerable to more acts of humiliation.

Overall, it's a very sombre book. I think what I found so strange and unsettling is the general absence of other characters—there's the first wife, the second woman, the husband, his son, the police—but their wider circle of family, friends and colleagues, are just a silent, distant chorus.

Thanks to Netgalley and Pushkin press for the advance copy!

[Emilie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Il y a des livres comme celui-là qu'il est insoutenable de lire. J'abandonne après 100 pages.
Pas parce qu'il est mauvais, mais parce qu'il est trop "douloureux" pour moi. On suit un processus destructeur qui va mener à la soumission et à l'humiliation d'une femme ; contrainte par la société, par l'image qu'elle a d'elle-même, par les injonctions au couple, Sandrine se déteste et s'abandonne au premier homme qui s'intéresse à elle. Ses violences, ses contradictions, elle les balaie d'un revers de main, par besoin d'être validée par quelqu'un.
Mais je ne suis pas en état de lire l'histoire de la femme qui se met en couple avec Jonathann Delval.
L'homme qui pleure.
Il pleure sa femme disparue...
Mais il est surtout un terrifiant prédateur.
Le livre est écrit presque sans ponctuation, d'une traite, on le lit comme on s'essoufle, en espérant que ça s'arrête, mais ça s'intensifie au contraire.
C'est trop dur pour moi.
Peut-être une autre fois.

[Derval Tannam · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book didn't do it for me. Maybe it was because it was a translation, but the dialogue didn't ring true. Sandrine's inner criticism was very intense and she wasn't a particularly well-rounded character. There was a part in the story where a colleague asks why she started distancing herself even prior to the abusive relationship, and Sandrine doesn't answer because she isn't sure herself- that felt like a lazy way for the author to avoid addressing that plot inconsistency. I think what the book said about coercive control and domestic abuse was important, but as a novel it fell short.

[sosso ;) · Rating 5 out of 5]

coup de cœur

tellement poignant, j’avais du mal à respirer tout du long. hyper réaliste, un style qui correspond tellement bien au récit et qui nous fait rentrer en empathie avec Sandrine directement.

un roman sur l’emprise très très TRÈS bien fait, je lirai les autres livres de l’autrice avec grand plaisir !!

[Clot Marlou · Rating 5 out of 5]

Je l'ai commencé comme un polar, je le termine comme une démonstration terrible mais nécessaire des mécanismes de l'emprise et de la façon insidieuse avec laquelle s'installe la violence conjugale. Bouleversant.