The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue – Book Review may contain some spoilers.

Content Warnings

Death, violence, starvation, attempted suicide, prostitution, tokenism, sexism, self-medicating and recreational drug use, physical and sexual assault, abusive relationships, and mishandled representation of mental health.

The Invisible Plot of Addie LaRue 

In 1714, France, Estelle warns Addie LaRue not to pray to the Old Gods at night. But when desperation drives her into the darkness, Addie makes a deal with the Devil himself: she is granted immortality, a lifetime of freedom. The price? She will be forgotten by everyone she meets. Addie becomes a ghost, drifting through centuries without leaving a mark—until, three hundred years later in 2014, a man named Henry remembers her name.

Despite what the official synopsis on Goodreads claims, there’s nothing particularly “extraordinary” about Addie’s life. The so-called “dazzling adventure across continents, history, and art” is misleading. The novel shifts between flashbacks of Addie’s life from 1714 onward and her present-day (2014) existence. These back-and-forth chapters aim to create depth but mostly circle the same beats: her loneliness, repeated encounters with Luc (the Devil), and attempts to make someone remember her.

Though she lives for three centuries, Addie’s life feels oddly small in scope. She spends most of her time in Europe, with brief name-drops of historical figures and events (e.g., a stint as a spy during a war), but none are explored in meaningful depth. The massive historical and cultural potential is left frustratingly untapped.

The Invisible Depth of Addie LaRue 

Addie LaRue is introduced as a forward-thinking girl in 18th-century France who doesn’t want to be tied down by marriage. She’s “not like other girls”—an idea that quickly wears thin as her internal monologue becomes dominated by self-pity. Even with the gift (and curse) of immortality, her actions and mindset don’t seem to evolve. Her life is a cycle of fleeting sexual encounters, failed attempts to be remembered, and repetitive musings on her curse.

Luc (the Devil) plays the antagonist and pseudo-love interest, popping in occasionally to add conflict, but even their dynamic starts to feel like an overused plot device.

Henry, introduced in the present timeline, remembers Addie—a miracle. But instead of invigorating the story, he brings a new set of issues. He’s written as sensitive and sad, but not in a way that feels grounded. His arc is cluttered with underdeveloped themes of mental health, addiction, and rejection. His struggles vanish once he makes a deal with Luc, which feels like a cop-out. 

Their romance never quite lands. Addie’s attraction to Henry seems more about being seen than actual love.

There is an obvious effort to check diversity boxes:

• A Jewish male lead and his Black best friend, neither of whom is deeply relevant to the plot.
  
• 4–5 LGBTQA+ characters, including both leads, though their queerness is reduced mostly to who they sleep with rather than any meaningful exploration of identity or experience.
  

These characters felt like token inclusions rather than organic, dimensional people. Similarly, the representation of mental health in Henry’s character feels underbaked and poorly handled.

The Unfortunate Conclusion of Addie LaRue

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue had immense potential. An immortal woman wandering through history should have opened doors to rich storytelling, global settings, diverse cultures, and historical depth. Instead, it reads like a repetitive, melancholy reflection on loneliness and regret, with little payoff.

This was my first book by V.E. Schwab. I was drawn in by the buzz and her beautiful, lyrical prose—but unfortunately, even strong writing couldn’t save the story for me. A promising premise that ultimately fell short of what it could’ve been.