Every so often, a book comes along that quietly consumes your attention. This was recommended to me by work bestie and although I had heard of the book, I didn’t know much about it. Their brief plot summary of the beginning pulled me in and after reading, I’m grateful for their recommendation.
The story is about a reclusive old Hollywood icon, Evelyn Hugo who recruits ambitious writer Monique Grant under false pretences to write her memoir.
I went in with no expectations and came out completely invested. Taylor Jenkins Reid writes with such ease and flow that you barely notice how many pages you’ve turned. The short, snappy chapters make it dangerously easy to keep reading long past when you meant to stop.
There’s a common criticism I had seen on various social media review comment sections that “not a lot happens” in The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, but I found the opposite. So much happens! It just isn’t always loud. Reid captures the glamour and grit of old Hollywood with a sense of restraint, letting character and emotion drive the story instead of endless spectacle. The structure feels cinematic, cutting smoothly between Monique’s present-day interviews and Evelyn’s own telling of her life. It’s like watching a documentary unfold in real time, with every reveal carefully placed.
What really impressed me was how convincingly real it all felt. Reid has that rare ability to make fiction feel like fact. The level of detail: the studio politics, the manipulation of image, the blurred line between fame and selfhood. It creates a world that could easily exist in the archives of twentieth-century Hollywood.
Evelyn Hugo herself is a character I couldn’t look away from. She’s far from perfect, often ruthless, and does deeply unsettling things, yet I admired her honesty and self-awareness. She understood the currency of beauty, power, and desirability, and she wielded it unapologetically. Still, what lingers is the emptiness beneath all that success. The novel captures the truth that you can possess everything you once dreamed of, yet if love is missing, none of it really satisfies.
One of the most affecting parts of the book for me was Evelyn’s relationship with Harry Cameron. Their friendship is tender, complex, and beautifully written. It’s a reminder that in queer spaces, friends often become your chosen family. Reid’s portrayal of gay relationships during a time when secrecy was a means of survival felt sensitive and deeply human. It added real weight to the glittering surface of the story.
And then there’s the twist! It was unexpected but perfectly placed. It reframes so much of what came before and brings everything full circle without feeling forced. It’s one of those endings that both surprises and left me satisfied.
The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo completely lived up to the hype. It’s stylish, emotional, and far more layered than its glossy premise suggests. This was my first Taylor Jenkins Reid novel, and it’s safe to say it won’t be my last.