Book Review: My Husband by Maud Ventura

The beautiful book cover is an actual portrait of Grace Kelly, painted by Annie Kevans. The author reveals within the book that the protagonist bears a striking resemblance to her. The very beautiful Grace Patricia Kelly was an American actress and the Princess of Monaco. The protagonist was described as a very beautiful woman in her forties, who however never thought herself pretty. First thing you'll notice on the book cover is the mysterious blue eye, it's gaze piercing through the viewer. Then the red lipstick, red earring and blond hair. I stared at the cover for a while before reading. It was both haunting and intriguing. There's just something unsettling about it. 

The book started with a brief prologue where the protagonist, who haven’t introduced herself yet or given her name (she never did), talks in first person about a typical day at her home. This nameless narrator refers to her partner and the father of her children as “my husband” all through the book, she never gave out his name. This is quite interesting because she seemed to monopolize her husband even against the readers. I could sense this character’s jealousy and it made me feel like she wasn’t disclosing his name for thus reason. She is intentionally excluding us. Very interesting! She says;

 “My husband has no name, he is mine.”

This gave me something to ponder on. A beautiful setting, a seemingly happy home, a kitchen bathed by sunlight and children taking their bowls from cupboards awaiting their breakfast and a husband whose Brazilian music turns on the beautiful Sunday morning atmosphere. However, this perfection is interrupted when her husband leaned towards her and said, “We need to find a moment to talk. It’s important.” She froze and was unable to say a word, but thought to herself that it is over. What is over though? Could it be her life or her marriage that is over? This was just at the start of the book, my curiosity intensifies and I am eager to uncover the whole story. 

What could she have done to the detriment of a marriage which she seemingly guards with all of her being? She and her husband have a perfect marriage, at least so it seems with how highly she talks about him. Why then is she startled by what he said? Could he be cheating? Is he perhaps a serial killer? She probably found out about his dealings and because he feared she would expose him, he decided to put an end to it? Could this be the reason what he said scared her?

Her friends and family envy her. They tell her about how lucky she is. They marvel at how well her children get along. They tell her that her husband is perfect. Who would agree otherwise? They have a lovely family. They live in a neighborhood with houses from the 1930s with well-maintained yards with beautiful fruit trees. Their house is the most beautiful in the neighborhood with an entryway that leads to other rooms on the ground floor: a narrow living room and a minuscule kitchen that looks out onto the garden. Something she never dreamt of living in as a child. It was only accessible to her in her dreams.

This is a story about a woman who is an English teacher in a high school for over fifteen years and also a French-English translator for a publishing house. However, she doesn’t say much about herself or her passion or dreams. Most of the things she says about herself is about where she thinks she is lacking as a person. So firstly, she identifies herself as a wife but never really mentioned her love for her children. Then she talks about her profession which by the way is still stringed to her husband. Her love didn’t follow a natural progression. For somebody who have been married for fifteen years, the intensity of their passion remained unwavering because love from their early days still remained the same. Well, so she thought. She wishes she could tell her husband she loves him every single day. She wants to do so much more to show him how she truly feels. Yet she understands that she is too old to act lovesick and agrees to the inappropriateness of showing such passion with their two kids at home. So she wish she never had them, the kids were distractions. Infact, she wish she could have her husband to herself alone, alone from the world.

“I don’t know of any fictional heroine who can show me how to behave. There are plenty of despairing lovers who sing about loss or rejection. But I don’t know of any novel, any film, any poem that can serve as my example, show me how to love better, less intensely.”

This is a woman who would read texts to her students with characters bearing the same name as her husband’s only because she wanted to hear them call his name. Maybe a little weird but nonetheless romantic. Do you think it is suffocating? Her heart skips a bit each time she sees his name or hear her students call him. Somewhat silly maybe. She gave them her vows to translate as an exercise in class and asked them what they thought about it. 

“Yesterday afternoon, my husband went grocery shopping. I’m touched by the abundance in our kitchen: brioche and jam on the counter, our fruit basket filled with apricots and peaches. I know it’s silly, but the more my husband runs important errands, the more I feel he loves me. It’s as though he’s investing in our relationship. Like the greengrocer who weighs the small paper sachets one by one, I can quantify his love each Sunday upon his return from the market depending on the total printed on the receipt in the bottom of the shopping bag.”

With love so deep rooted, she still feels there is an immense void she feels that she is waiting for her husband to fill. But then, with love as deep as hers and with the fact that her husband has given her everything she ever needed, her anguish cannot be appeased.

 “What could possibly fill what is already full?”

I found something really interesting in this book. It is the way the writer explained through this character that irrespective of who you are, where you are or what you do, as a woman, you will wait for a man (husband) to come home. You might not think you are, but you are one way or another killing time and waiting for that man to come home. You are just like the character in this book. The protagonist refers to it as “the universal waiting room.” I'm blown away by this insight. It's a perspective I've never considered before.

“…all I see is women who are waiting, just like me. They are eating yogurt, driving a car, or spritzing themselves with perfume, but what sticks out to me is what’s happening out of frame: they are all waiting for a man. They’re smiling, they seem active and busy, but in reality they are just killing time. I wonder whether I’m the only one to notice the universal women’s waiting room.”

What perhaps differentiate her slightly from others is her obsession for her husband. She would run to the library when she realizes her husband is almost home because she wants to create a “certain look.” She doesn’t want him to find her waiting for him in front of a screen, so she would pose with a book “The Lover” by Marguerite Duras which is supposedly a favorite of hers. I will later learn that she was using that book to send a certain message to her husband. So she folds her legs carelessly beneath her, a cup of coffee within reach and her book opened to a random page. She turns off the lamp (which she will later in the book smash on the floor because of its aggressive lights and inability to produce that romantic feel in the living room, then replace it with one with its power switch slightly upwards so her husband’s hand may have to caress her neck slightly when he tries to reach it) and light two candles, then resume her position on the couch where she can see the reflection of the entrance door in the large entryway mirror. There she will keep watch till the doorknob finally turns.

In another instance she said she looses the ability to concentrate when her husband is at home. So as soon as she hears him approaching, she takes off her glasses and turns off her computer because she wants him to find her immersed in a thick linguistics textbook or absorbed by her translations. She wouldnt want him to see her filling her students report on the school's website, so to avoid him catching her unaware, she always keeps a fountain pen next to her in case he enters her office while she is there. He loves to see her writing by hand and loves her notes. At this point, I felt so tired for her.

“When my husband is absent, the house resounds less, like a piano whose soft pedal is engaged: the sound comes out muted, domestic life loses variation and intensity. It’s as though someone’s placed an enormous lid over our roof. I turn on the porch light, then the lights in the kitchen and the living room. From the street, our house looks like a gift shop glowing in the darkness. It’s just the welcoming sight that I want my husband to find upon his return.”

While reading, you will notice how mysterious the protagonist is and how nicely the writer revealed these secrets. She loves her husband so much so that she compromises everything and anything for his sake even at the detriment of her comfort. It was as if there was no her. She became completely absorbed in him, losing her own identity in the process. She lives and breathes for him. She would do anything to keep him. She was totally consumed by him. One really saddening part of the book is when she mentioned that for years her husband insisted that he can only sleep in complete darkness. But for her, she prefers to sleep with the windows open.

"The dark hours disorient me more than they restore me,” she says. 

However, her preference doesn’t matter compared to her husband’s need for darkness. So when they started sleeping in the same room, that concession happened naturally.

“It’s not a big deal in the end,” she says.

Is it still not a big deal if she lives her life that way, sleeping with shutters closed with little to no sleep for fifteen years and the rest of her life? Not to mention that she will find out one morning that her husband was able to sleep with light. Could he have been lying to her? But it still didn’t matter though, because she will give up her comfort for him.

She notices everything. Her senses are heightened and she is extremely observant.

She once mentioned that although people have asked her if her job as a translator makes her want to write her own book, she still doesn't see herself as an author. She is contented and satisfied as a translator. Now I'm wondering if this also have to do with her husband. She prefers to observe, analyze, deduce, scrutinize each text, discover its underlying meanings, uncover its implicit tone and to be on the lookout with the precision of an investigator on the hunt for hidden clues.

I kept wondering why a certain phrase from a book she seemed to have read a lot, The Lover stuck with her since the age fifteen when she read the book for the first time.

“I’ve never done anything but wait outside the closed door.”

Why did she think about tattooing it on her shoulder at eighteen? At forty, she then realises that she might have thought she read it somewhere else as a child, but in truth that phrase was a precognition and not a reminiscence. It wasn’t a phrase that summed her past life as a child, but a phrase from her future. Like an omen. As I continued reading, my questions were gradually answered, and I came to understand that her self-esteem and confidence had hit rock bottom. Her inner struggles had left her feeling defeated, and her belief in herself was buried beneath a layer of self-doubt. Naturally you may have noticed this as well from how much I talked about her seeking validation from her husband. But it could also be mistaken for love because when you read the book, she kept on mentioning that her husband does everything for her. Her life is perfect, everybody envies her. But I think I began to question this more when she talked about rebranding herself to fit her husband's lifestyle. Her husband who is perfect with a perfect childhood and well to do family. She needed to step up to fit into that lifestyle. She calls herself lowclass because compared to him, she never had it all while growing up. But is this true though? She refers to him as handsome, sophisticated, tall and good looking. But is this actually true about her husband or has her obsession made him seem that way to her? Could this all be in her mind. Since she's the one narrating from her own perspective, how much of what she says should we actually believe? She would buy perfumes because somebody else had bought it and shop for the exact outfits that other women she terms classy wears. 

"I reassure myself by methodically reminding myself of all the reasons I don’t need to worry: my nails are impeccable, my hair is perfect, my outfit is elegant. I know because I only buy clothing that I’ve seen worn by women with irreproachable style, or in unquestionably trustworthy stores."

Then I realised that she dyes her hair blond and have tried in all of the years being with her husband to remain so. Well, first time he met her, she had just dyed her hair blond and having realized that all of his previous exes were blonds and his preference for blonds, she decided to keep it that way. She hid it from him. Also, there was a time she and her husband visited their friends Nicholas and Louise, who had just welcomed a new baby. The internal dialogue she was having was utterly draining. She was trapped in a cycle of self-doubt, constantly second-guessing herself. The constant questioning and criticism she directed towards herself was not only exhausting but also demoralizing, leaving her feeling humiliated and defeated. It was just so humiliating. It started with her attempting to buy flowers at the florist for the new parents. She hates asking for advice at the florist because it reveals her ignorance in her disability to differentiate between a violet and a pansy, daffodil, an iris, or a hyacinth. So she does her research ahead of time. She thinks women are supposed to know this kind of thing. Also, Louise would never have needed advice to choose a bouquet. So here comes the comparison and the complex. At this point, I was worried for her. Then just when I thought she couldn't do any worse to herself, I read something that was just sickening. I agree that it is good to say nice things to people and what not especially because she was visiting. But then, to put yourself down in order to make another person feel good, that my friend is a crime. You don't only lose your self respect but you've violated yourself. So she complimented Louise about her outfit. She told her that her black dress was sublime, then she complimented her haircut, then she told her how they both suit her well. Then what happens? She gets mad at herself as soon as these words came out of her mind. She then went on to reveal that she cannot help but compliment an outfit, a lipstick, or a perfume that she likes. She would usually discreetly find out where they come from and buy them for herself later on. She also admired the women around her too much to the point that letting them know this makes her insidiously inferior in comparison. Funny thing is that people notice this. They always do because it is glaring. So this is a habit she has been trying to change for years and she wants to restrain herself and do it less. So, Louise thanks her, but does not return the compliment.

"In bourgeois milieus, people rarely compliment each other."

This is just ludicrous. So she starts feeling anxious and tries to reassure herself that afterall she looks nice. She too is dressed elangant, her nails are good and hair too.

She breathe and gently tap two fingers on the inside of her wrist keep her calm and then she recites this to comfort herself:

"No one can see my neuroses except me. The way I see myself is not how other people see me. Everything is okay. I belong here."

Normally when people do this to themselves, they show others that they don't matter. You've just told them how to treat you. So everything goes downhill from there. Later on in their conversations, Louise will then have the effortry to tear her down and talk down on her before their husbands. She does this in a way that is not too obvious, with a warm smile. This is especially irritating because people typically have a clear understanding of their actions and intentions. However, our protagonist as always, gives excuses for her friend's disrespect. 

"Louise says things that, from someone else’s mouth, could be hurtful. But a profound warmth renders them inoffensive. Her smile disarms her words. I opted not to breastfeed my children, and Louise knows this. But she deems this fact of little importance and therefore there’s no reason I should take it the wrong way: she is simply stating her opinion." 

Then our protagonist goes ahead to recount a time when Louise said it out loud that she absolutely hated the color green because it reminded her of her mother, while she (protagonist) was actually wearing green. The audacity! Then again, why would you choose to be around people like this? The only answer is the fact that you do not love yourself. Anyway, to round up her awful day of paying keen attention to her friends' relationship in comparison to theirs, they wound up with a game where her husband refers to her as a "clementine." A fruit she reminds him of and then Louise a "pineappaple." Then again, she begins to dissect and translate this in her head for the rest of her terrible week. Pure torture! She found the dinner with their friends pointless. If she had her way, she would want her husband all to herself. This obsession came at the expense of her role as mother. She saw her children as mere distractions and neglected her maternal responsibilities. Once she squeezed her sick daughter's hand for disrupting her perfect night with her husband. 

"When I’m with my husband, I don’t need to see our friends. I also don’t have any desire to visit my parents, and I don’t miss my children. My husband is enough for me. He, on the other hand, likes to be surrounded by people. He comes alive when he’s among groups. He likes going out and meeting new people. But his sociability is painful for me. Each new person who enters into our life is an additional dilution of his attention, a dilution of him, and I’m horrified by this. The energy he expends toward others hurts me: it tells me that I am not enough for him."

The part i never really understood is how she would go ahead to have affairs with other married men, to "make herself feel better." She cheats to give her marriage that balance it needs, instead of confronting her fears. The fact that she cheated with her friend's husband, right under her husband's nose, in their family home and during her daughter's birthday is just neausating. But does her husband know this? That's the twist of this incredible story. There was another moment when she was standing behind her husband, and a shocking thought flashed through her mind - she imagined herself pushing him out the window, causing him harm. This disturbing idea seemed contradictory to her usual obsession with him, but perhaps it revealed a deeper, darker aspect of her possessiveness and desperation to control their relationship. Is she wrong for loving her husband so? Is this even love? Could her husband be narcissistic? Lots of questions and answers revealed in the most fascinating way by this author who by the way is a new favorite of mine. Her words are incredible.

There are a lot of interesting things to uncover about the protagonist. One of it is how she gave meanings to each day of the week and she related to them to colors. I honestly found this both interesting and amusing. First, she thinks Monday is her day. Her best day of the week. On Mondays, she doesn’t feel as much as an atom weight of fatigue as she walks through the doors of the high school, she is chattier and happier than any other day of the week. This thing she said about Mondays caught my attention and I just love the poetic feel to it.

"Monday has always been my favorite day of the week. Sometimes it wears a deep royal blue—navy blue, midnight blue, Egyptian blue, sapphire blue. But more often Monday takes on a practical blue, economical and inspirational: the color of Bic pens, my students’ workbooks, and simple clothing that goes with everything. Monday is also the day of labels, resolutions, storage boxes. The day of smart choices and reasonable decisions. People have told me that loving Mondays is a brainiac thing— that only nerds are happy when the weekend is over. That might be true. But it comes back to my love of beginnings. I’ve always preferred the first chapters of a book, the first fifteen minutes of a film, the first act of a play. I like starting points. When everyone is in their rightful place in a world that makes sense."

Tuesday is a quarrelsome and a dangerous day. For her, Tuesday is black in color and her least favorite day. Wednesday is an orange day. Thursday is yellow. Friday is green, a day that comes with good luck.

My favorite thing about her is her job as a translator. A dream job in my own opinion. I loved how intentional she was about it. She literally gets into the mind of any author's work she is translating. She tries to familiarize herself with the structure of the author’s thinking. She learns the expressions the author prefers, she learns those words the author cannot help but keep repeating in her texts, the way she likes to begin her sentences, the phrases the author loves to use. She said:

“I entered into her mind and adopted her logic until the mechanics of the whole were revealed to me. After several months of work, I can now say that I have appropriated her expressions and can write in her voice.”

It’s just brilliant. It is for this reason and this sole personality of hers that she tries to translate all her husband does, basically. He is a project she must protect and unravel. Just like English frustrates her, her husband does too. She tries to be in his mind. In the book she talked about how hilly a language English was. She said English is irregular and ever changing. You can eliminate the syntax errors, expand your vocabulary, adopt the tics of the language, but English will always have a leg up on you. 

"Sometimes I ask myself why I didn’t choose a logical, predictable language like German. With English I have to give up all control, which often irritates or frustrates me, but maybe it also explains why I haven’t grown tired of it."

This precisely describes her relationship with her husband. Did I mention that she keeps a note for the words she needs for her translations in small notebooks? She have a dozen of them which she also differentiates with colors. A red notebook for wods related to politics and societal debates, a blue one for terms related to nature and the environment. A yellow notebook, which containaining vocabulary related to medicine and the history of the sciences, also a notebook dedicated to romantic vocabulary, another notebook where she writes her experiences, another where she writes the things that her husband does to annoy her and what she will do to punish him and a green notebook where she copies down ideas she had read from a magazine. 

She sprinkles clues so her husband may find them. She needs him to be jealous, to be scared of loosing her, to notice her. He always seemed confident and safe with her. She doesn't want that. She wants him to actually see her. 

I haven't read a book I liked this much, after Cleopatra and Frankenstein by Coco Mellors. This is Maud Ventura's first novel. She is such an amazing writer. First she writes and allows you think for yourself. She reduces her pace and then waits for you to catch up, then she goes back to each highlight of the book and tell you what had really happened. She doesn't impose her opinions, she leaves room for your own thoughts and perspectives to emerge. Her approach is inclusive and inviting. It's like a meaningful dialogue with the reader, the characters and then her (the author). This is an amazing book and I enjoyed reading every bit of it. It is exceptional and quite impressive for a first time author. I have so much to say, but i try so much not to give the story away. I highly recommend this book to young girls and women, married or unmarried. This book teaches self love, confidence and self awareness. It is written from the perspective of somebody who lacked all of these, so you'll find excuses and probable reasons people give to undermine themselves. As always, my advice to young people particularly women is to cultivate self-love. Know who you are, love and accept yourself. Be gentle with yourself. Embrace your authenticity, flaws and all, accept the mistakes you made when you knew little and just be kind to yourself. Acknowledge that your mistakes are a natural part of growth. You are everything you have. Remember, you are enough, just as you are. Don't seek validation from others because they are often preoccupied with their own narratives. Is there ever a point where the opinions of people who don't even see you count? Read the book to find out.