It is in the twists, unfortunately, that Invisible Woman stumbles, choosing expedience rather than loyalty to character. The problem is not the plotting: Lief has great fun with the Highsmith-inspired Joni, working in all the insecurities of an aging woman who has seen her life shrink to insignificance. Where the author falters is in the delivery: Instead of letting the unstable narrator work through her own situations, Lief recounts the twisted heart of specific Highsmith novels, then clocks Joni’s reaction to them ... Too often Lief leans on the Highsmith novels to signify emotional development, skipping over the kind of note-perfect exchanges that distinguish the rest of this fast-paced novel. Considering how clear-eyed Lief is about her troubled characters and the world that shaped them, these missteps are especially jarring. These injured, eloquent characters could well have been left to speak for themselves.
Twists and turns, its escalating dangers alternating with fresh reveals, as momentum builds to a breaking point. Joni is compulsive, troubled, but sympathetic; Val is less central but exerts a force of her own. Characters develop quickly from disagreeable but benign to chilling and dangerous; some readers will find this atmospheric novel engaging and disturbing enough to lose sleep. A literary psychological thriller, cultural study, and heartbreaking story of friendship and loss, Joni's unforgettable story involves layers of lies and the dangers of self-sublimation. Lief chills, entertains, and challenges.
Lief tells Joni’s story with lyrical energy while slowly ratcheting up the suspense, blending shocking twists with literary nuances to create a compelling, introspective narrative.
There’s an unexpected twist that flirts dangerously with the hysterical-female trope, but ultimately, this surprising piece of Joni’s story is just that: one more piece. Absolutely a novel of its time—and a novel of women's stories across time.
