The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo Review: For Women Reinventing Themselves

Some books find you at exactly the right moment. The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo found me twice. While initially published in 2017, I didn’t read it until 2021. But a few weeks ago, when a girlfriend mentioned it was her book club’s read, it brought back everything I remembered feeling the first time.

The author, Taylor Jenkins Reid, is having quite the run. Many of you have probably heard of this book, already read it, or, like me, initially avoided it because it seemed overhyped. It wasn’t.

As a mixed-race, bisexual woman aspiring to succeed in 1950s Hollywood, Evelyn had the same base desires of many women. To be respected and valued for her talents, to love and be loved in return, and to live life on her own terms. Yeah, I can relate.

I respected Evelyn for her ability to constantly reinvent herself, even when she made glaring mistakes along the way. My mother used to say, “Nothing beats a failure but a try.” Truly, easier said than done. But while Evelyn seemed to have an unending supply of confidence and resilience, the rest of us mere mortals can sometimes falter in those regards. And yet, we have to go on—shaky, perhaps, but persevering.

Without giving too much away, Evelyn hires Monique Grant, a magazine writer, to pen her biography. Monique is talented, but she is understandably surprised that someone as famous as Evelyn chooses her to tell her story. Like any engaging narrative, Evelyn’s life takes many twists and turns as she ascends to Hollywood royalty. Reid’s research into 1950s and 1960s Hollywood shines through, transporting us into the old noir glamour of lives we only ever glimpsed from the outside.

Evelyn’s life is certainly far more complicated than my own. (I’ve only been married once, so far.) And I give in to overwhelm more than I care to admit. But her sheer determination to succeed in a world that was not ready for her is inspiring, even though it’s fiction.

What Reid captures so well is a woman who constantly reinvents herself, shifting, conforming, and sometimes scheming to get ahead. It’s questionable as to whether Evelyn ever finds a true sense of peace, something many of us don’t achieve until much later in life, if ever, after we’ve learned hard lessons and suffered our share of heartache and heartbreak.

The contrast between up-and-coming reporter Monique and seasoned Hollywood legend Evelyn recently had me reflecting on my own season of life. I spent more than 30 years in corporate America, all of it in the financial industry. But being a writer has always been my lifelong desire. (Except for my art history period, but more on that another time.)

Monique is the ambitious writer finding her way. Evelyn is the woman looking back, thinking about her legacy and how she’ll be remembered. That dichotomy hit home. Climbing the corporate ladder, reaching middle management, and then—declared redundant. Now that I’m in my 50s, I have a much better understanding of what it means to succeed and to own who you are. Even when others are trying to label and define you.

While Monique is no match for Evelyn’s larger-than-life personality, she does start to come into her own. The book is told through flashbacks and the present, so we see Evelyn’s full story while the twist at the end brings to light why Evelyn chose Monique to write her biography.

For me, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo is about grit, reinvention, and making hard choices to create a life you can not only live with but love. Along the way, that can be scary and invigorating. But the courage needed to find yourself and eventually love who you are is where the beauty of this book lives. If you haven’t read it yet, grab a copy and then come back and let me know what you think.