La deuxième femme - Louise Mey

Essentially, Louise Mey's La deuxième femme ('The Second Wife', or 'The Second Woman' as the English language edition prefers to name it) appears to be one of those exploitative thrillers where a vulnerable woman begins to suspect that she doesn't really know the man she is living with, that he keeps secrets from her and that she may become a victim. That's not to say that the situation is not a very real one, or at least the underlying sentiment is real and relatable even if not every woman lives with a murderer or would-be murderer. The strength of this one however is in the level of detail, the writing conveying the whole complexity of feelings and realisations not just about the present situation, but to the backgrounds that give rise to how people behave and react.

Moved by a television appeal by a man who she refers to for most of the book only as “l’homme qui pleure” (the crying man) Sandrine joins in the search for his missing wife. She sees in him something she hasn't experienced with other men; a tenderness and kindness while others have appeared predatory or dismissive. Sandrine, by her own admission - a view enforced by her previous experience with her own parents - is not a good looking girl, carrying weight and not blessed with an attractive shape. After the search is called off, Sandrine becomes close to “l’homme qui pleure”, becomes his second wife and stepmother to his son Mathias. On the news however there is a report coming through that the man's first wife has unexpectedly resurfaced.

It's certainly unexpected by the man, and neither Sandrine nor the man know quite how to react when they see her on the news report. No one else yet knows who she is and her disappearance and reappearance remains a mystery. Caroline has been found in Italy, has no memory of what happened and remains silent for weeks. When she finally speaks it's French, so the French police investigate, discovering her likely identity just as Caroline's parents, the man and Sandrine also come to the same shock realisation seeing her on TV. There's a dawning realisation on Sandrine that this is going to make her position difficult, not least because the police will be trying to get to the bottom of what has happened.

Progress and revelations are however slow to come around in La deuxième femme, but what Mey does is play on the considerable tension that the potential return of the first wife will have on each of them. Sandrine is already somewhat insecure about her position, her appearance and the changing behaviour of her man, but she is also certain that she doesn't want anything to change. That is inevitable however as Caroline returns to her parents’ house while she is reintroduced to her husband and child, seeking to regain some memory of what happened. The equilibrium in the household is further disturbed by visits from police officers who are obviously interested in finding out what happened and why Caroline disappeared in the first place. The man who cried over her disappearance is suddenly seen in a new, suspicious and potentially dangerous light.

There might be some question over whether La deuxième femme is really a thriller or a study of domestic abuse. Not that it really matters. Most bestseller thrillers who deal with this subject I find are somewhat exploitative, seeking to use it to raise emotions and tensions. Again, that's a reasonable way to deal with a serious subject, but that's not quite the case here. Mey develops the situation here into a thorough and realistic examination of a very difficult living situation (if I'm sidestepping the harsh reality it's just for the sake of avoiding spoilers) and manages to achieve a delicate balance. In that respect it's far more a literary thriller than a bestseller female vulnerability thriller. That's achieved primarily in the writing which has a beautiful literary flow, mixing action, dialogue and impressions together.

Striving to find that balance between literary fiction and thriller however, it's uncertain whether Mey entirely succeeds in either style. The treatment of the subject is a little black and white, and for all its authenticity, it feels a little text-book and academic in places. As far as working as a thriller, it's perhaps just a little predictable in where it is going and how it is going to end. That doesn't prevent La deuxième femme from being true to life, gripping in its pacing and building of tension and at times a hard and painful but worthwhile read.

Reading notes: I read the original French 2020 large format paperback first edition of Louise Mey's La deuxième femme, published by Le Masque.