The Lost Wife
by Alyson Richards
The prologue of The Lost Wife is gripping; no doubt that is why the author/publishing company decided to take such an intriguing scene and place it immediately at potential readers’ attention. An old woman sees an old man and doesn’t recognize him, until he lifts his sleeve revealing a numbered tattoo and says, “It’s me, your husband.” Who wouldn’t want to read a book with that intro?
Unfortunately, and this is why I intensely dislike the popular style of going back and forth between the past and the present, the reader is keenly aware of the ending as the beginning and middle is being read. If we know right away she gets married, that they both made it out of the Holocaust alive, and that decades later, she doesn’t recognize him, we can conclude one of two possibilities: a) she has Alzheimer’s and this is a daily occurrence for the couple, or b) they are separated and never see each other again until they are both incredibly old. I’m not giving any spoilers; this is what would go through any reader’s mind at the beginning of the book.
The rest of the novel is suspense-less, since we already know the husband and wife live into old age. Richman describes horrible situations from the protagonist’s time in the Holocaust, but not all the decisions she and her friends make are likable or even understandable. It would have been a much more enjoyable read without the prologue. The readers could be fully immersed in the story, without having the opening scene in the back of their minds, and they could truly wonder if each character is going to be killed or maimed.
If historical fiction, particularly Holocaust stories, are your genre of choice—there really are a lot of great novels in that niche—you might want to read this book anyway. But then again, you might want to read another book that gives you a chance at guessing the ending.
Unfortunately, and this is why I intensely dislike the popular style of going back and forth between the past and the present, the reader is keenly aware of the ending as the beginning and middle is being read. If we know right away she gets married, that they both made it out of the Holocaust alive, and that decades later, she doesn’t recognize him, we can conclude one of two possibilities: a) she has Alzheimer’s and this is a daily occurrence for the couple, or b) they are separated and never see each other again until they are both incredibly old. I’m not giving any spoilers; this is what would go through any reader’s mind at the beginning of the book.
The rest of the novel is suspense-less, since we already know the husband and wife live into old age. Richman describes horrible situations from the protagonist’s time in the Holocaust, but not all the decisions she and her friends make are likable or even understandable. It would have been a much more enjoyable read without the prologue. The readers could be fully immersed in the story, without having the opening scene in the back of their minds, and they could truly wonder if each character is going to be killed or maimed.
If historical fiction, particularly Holocaust stories, are your genre of choice—there really are a lot of great novels in that niche—you might want to read this book anyway. But then again, you might want to read another book that gives you a chance at guessing the ending.