Book Review: The Paris Wife

The Paris Wife by Paula McLain

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Ernest Hemingway was a brilliant shit.

I first encountered his works in college, and though they weren’t my cup of tea, I could appreciate their literary significance. But The Paris Wife is about Hemingway’s life before he became the world-renowned writer whose work is studied by students. It’s a fictional story that follows the true events of his life and tragic marriage to Elizabeth “Hadley” Richardson, Hem's first wife.

Told from Hadley’s perspective, the first part of the story is all about the couple — who they know, where they travel, what they do. I enjoyed Hadley as a narrator through these descriptions. She was steady and honest and so much more practical than the crowd she was running with. It’s perfectly boring, except for the colorful nicknames everyone has and a handful of interesting escapades.

But once they left Spain something happened. The situations Hadley and Ernest found themselves in were more volatile, more stressful, and yet our narrator was hardly emotional. She’d note her difference of opinion with Ernest and move on. No biggie. At first I couldn’t put my finger on this near ambivalence of hers, but once I figured out what was going on with Pauline, it genuinely pissed me off.

That Hadley didn’t cancel her vacation plans when she learned her friend was actively trying to steal her husband was outrageous. Her tolerance of Pauline’s intrusion was unthinkable, but the pseudo-friendship and delusional correspondence that continued was even worse. Hadley seemed to shrink into herself, and even after her accounts of the love triangles and destroyed relationships around her, she continued to tolerate Ernest and his other woman.

And Hem. Oh, Hem. The brief moments when he’s allowed to narrate were well-timed. Paula McLain must’ve known that he needed to defend himself, to speak up just a little and remind the reader that he was a troubled, sensitive soul, and that none of this was easy for him, either. But those brief jaunts into his perspective accomplished the opposite for me. What kind of delusional idiot was he? Was Pauline? Was Hadley for not sticking up for herself for crying out loud!

Hadley shows a little more emotion toward the end — she makes a few scenes, a few demands. She calls Pauline a whore, calls Hem a coward. But so was she. Finally she makes the only decision she can; she lets him go.

Throughout the chapters about life as a threesome, there were dark, serious mentions of suicide. If anything could make Ernest seem more sympathetic after what he puts his family and friends through, it would be reminding readers of his eventual suicide, right?

It also showed the main difference between Hemingway and Hadley. They both mention at various points in the story how alike they become, but when their thoughts turned to suicide, Hemingway was making plans, whereas Hadley was just playing with the idea. She determined quite quickly that she wanted to live. Even in the epilogue, her optimism shines through—she calls herself “the lucky girl.” The Paris wife who got to see Ernest at his best self: “an incomparable friend and a sonofabitch.”




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