Review of The Wife Upstairs by Freida McFadden: A Missed Opportunity
When I first picked up The Wife Upstairs by Freida McFadden, I was intrigued by the promise of a thrilling domestic noir, especially given the buzz around it. The title alone sparked curiosity—what dark secrets lurked beneath the surface of this seemingly picturesque household? Unfortunately, instead of a gripping story, I found myself navigating a maze of predictability and disappointment.
Plot and Characters: A Frustrating Journey
The tale follows Sylvia (or Sylvie), a struggling young woman who stumbles into a job that sounds almost too good to be true: caring for the brain-damaged wife of a handsome man named Adam, while living rent-free in their home. At first, the setup felt like it had the potential for an eerie exploration of obsession, power dynamics, and deception. However, I quickly found myself grappling with characters that felt more like caricatures than complex human beings.
Sylvie’s naivety in the face of Adam’s glaring red flags was exasperating. How can a smart woman overlook such blatant warning signs? Not to mention the character of Victoria, whose continuous acceptance of her grim reality sent troubling messages about women’s agency in relationships. It was hard for me to reconcile the idea of strong female protagonists demanding better when the narrative showcased such subservience. Rather than serving as a thrilling exploration of domestic abuse, it often felt like reinforcement of outdated gender norms.
Writing Style: A Disappointing Tone
From a stylistic standpoint, McFadden’s writing fell flat. The prose had a repetitive quality that dulled the tension, and the dialogue didn’t always ring true—often veering into melodrama. Instead of captivating suspense, I found myself frustrated by predictable plot twists and a lack of narrative depth. Moments that could have been suspenseful felt rushed or insufficiently explored, leaving me yearning for a richer experience.
Setting the Mood: Eerie Potential
While the characterization and pacing were lacking, I did appreciate the eerie and isolated atmosphere that McFadden attempted to create. The settings had a potential for false security and hidden secrets, reminiscent of better works in the psychological thriller genre. It reminded me of the tension present in a novel like Colleen Hoover’s Verity, but without the capability to execute it well.
Conclusion: Not for Everyone
Ultimately, The Wife Upstairs feels like it was tackled by an author with potential, but who struggled to step beyond borrowed ideas and clichés. If you enjoy stories about psychopathic hot bosses and women in distress that make questionable choices—this may resonate with you. However, for those craving depth and originality in character dynamics, this may not hit the mark.
For me, reading this book reinforced a desire for narratives that empower women to reclaim their lives, rather than bend to the whims of destructive relationships. I personally will be exploring other titles for more authentic portrayals of female strength and agency, hoping to find characters who inspire rather than frustrate.