Here’s a truth: I’m not a romance movie person. Here’s a seemingly contradictory truth to the previous one: I have seen many early 90s chick flicks. My mom and best friend love them very much, you see; this past week I was subjected to the dreaded You’ve Got Mail for the first time in a few years. This time around, however, it didn’t seem so grossly Pro Corporate America than it did the last time I beheld it. 

“It’s not an entirely happy ending,” my friend told me and another friend while we all watched the credits fly, “but it is a real one. Isn’t that better?” 

My default answer was No, this is a rom-com, give it a happy ending, the universe commands it. But then I considered it. Why do bittersweet endings affect us so deeply? 

It is with this question that I now switch over from movies to books; specifically, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by Victoria Schwab. 

The story:

If there’s one thing you must know, it is to “never pray to the gods who answer after dark.” Once upon a time a young woman was in a desperate place– and made a desperate choice for freedom. But every choice brings its consequences. 

It has been 300 years since anyone has remembered her face longer than a few hours. 

Today, that number will halt in its tracks with the words “I remember you.”

This is the story of Addie LaRue’s invisible– and sometimes not so invisible– life. 

Now, if you’re a fan of Victoria Schwab already (This Savage Song/Our Dark Duet, A Darker Shade of Magic, Vicious/Vengeful), I don’t need to tell you that she does not shy away from a ending that will leave you wanting to listen to some Taylor Swift afterwards (I would recommend “Bad Blood” after reading Vicious— not that I speak from experience or anything). But it’s not that her endings are shocking or nonsensical. You can see the shape of them from miles away, but only the shape. When you finish, though, you realize that no matter what you anticipated or thought that shape was in the distance, it’s different up close– but it’s the only ending that feels right. 

I’m not going to tell you the ending of The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue, but consider some of the books and movies that have affected you like that. Some others for me are The Great Gatsby, Inception, and The Raven Cycle. Even the book of Matthew in the Bible ends on a note like that: Jesus is alive, and promises a comforter for his disciples, but he himself returns to His Father in heaven. 

There’s nothing wrong with happy endings, but there’s something about the bittersweet that satisfies the heart. Perhaps it is because, as my friend so accurately put it, it feels more real, and true to life. As much as we want to escape sometimes– and we often do, into our screens, our work, our shows– the bittersweet ending is a gentle transition back from the realm of the imaginary. There are seldom plans of ours that fly without turbulence. There are compromises, false smiles, dreams left to collect dust in the attic of our minds. When we see that our favorite characters understand this too, something inside of us sighs, “Ah. I’m not alone, then.” 

I know how easy it is during this part of the semester (and this time of year, with its sudden chill) to disappear into your phone for hours, wearing cozy socks while scrolling through social media. There is certainly a time for it. But let’s examine our habits, and what we consider reward and  art. Have we gone seeking pleasure and ended up in a place of grey numbness instead? How often does restlessness find us? 

If you find yourself longing for a simple story that will sprout and grow in your heart, a book that examines a life among many, and one that reawakens wonder even in the midst of the bittersweet, Addie LaRue invites you to read about her invisible life. 

Disclaimers: 

• This book has elements that may be triggering to some readers. This is a Young Adult book that heavily leans on the “Adult” part of the genre. Please use your discernment when reading. 

• I both read the physical book and listened to the audiobook narrated by Julia Whelan. Both mediums are excellent. 
• Read the book and want to talk about it? Check out Goodreads.com to join in on the conversation!