Review: The Paris Wife

Name: The Paris Wife
Author: Paula McLain
First published: 2010
Published by: Virago


The Paris Wife came into my life shortly after I visited the French capital in May. I wanted to read something vaguely Parisian and the title suggested this might fit the bill.

This is the story of mild Hadley Richardson and her first marriage to one of America’s literary greats: the not-so-mild Ernest Hemingway, of whom I knew nothing before I read this book. The two met at a party in Chicago one summer when Hadley was 28 and Ernest was an ambitious yet unknown 21-year-old. After a whirlwind romance and a speedy marriage, despite the misgivings of Hadley’s best friend, they set sail for a new life in Paris.

Success is by no means instant for Ernest, but it becomes very clear very quickly that work is his priority; a passion he shares with friends Ezra Pound, Gertrude Stein, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ford Maddox Ford. But will the charms of post-war Paris entice loved-up newlyweds Ernest and Hadley? Will they adopt the ‘bohemian’ (read: promiscuous) ways of their peers? It seems unlikely, but not impossible.

This great love affair is set up to fail from the beginning, although this becomes difficult to believe when the couple are at their peak. As Hadley and Ernest slowly unravelled I did wonder how their shake-up could possibly come as a surprise, but then came the blow – and I was outraged!



Ernest Hemingway and Hadley Richardson

Steeped with glamorous settings, literary figures and loose morals, The Paris Wife recreates the atmosphere of 1920s Paris, where writers spent their days in cafés, while those that loved them waited, followed, and hoped they wouldn’t be left behind. Hadley was not an artist and her position on the outskirts of this social set meant she noticed the turmoil that fuelled the talent.

After American beginnings, The Paris Wife did indeed fulfil my need for a Parisian tale, and also told me a thing or two about the ways of the disillusioned modernists. Reading about Hemingway’s early years has made me want to read his work – but there was a time during The Paris Wife when I never wanted to read a word of Hemingway – or hear his name – ever again!