This review jars me and I don’t know why.
Alexander Jacobs writes: “Replete with details of modest domesticity in modern France, “A Hymn to Life” is also a rousing feminist manifesto, thanks to the phalanx that accompanied Gisèle, in protest and protectiveness, to the Palais de Justice each morning of the trial. It seeks a proper transfer of shame from sex-crime victims to their perpetrators, and the perpetrators’ enablers.”
Gemini says: The review likely fails to land with you because it treats an unthinkable atmospheric horror with the breezy, polished tone of a lifestyle column. Alexandra Jacobs uses a stylistic detachment that feels incongruous with the gravity of the crimes. She opens with a snarky quip about the Epstein files and describes the sedation of a woman for the purpose of serial rape as a side hobby. This attempt at wit creates a cognitive dissonance. You are reading about a woman who was drugged with mashed potatoes and sold to strangers, yet the reviewer is making jokes about The White Lotus and awarding a satirical lifetime achievement award for gaslighting.
The prose leans heavily on the tropes of a triumphant survival narrative which might feel reductive. Jacobs frames the story as a rousing feminist manifesto and a big, lucrative best seller. This language commodifies the trauma. By focusing on the protagonist’s new boyfriend, her bulldog, and her rise to the bourgeoisie, the review glosses over the visceral, messy reality of a decade of systematic violation. It seeks a neat, redemptive arc—shame changing sides—where the reality is likely much darker and more complex than a tidy transfer of power.
The reviewer also employs a strange sort of narrative distance by using words like “gallantly” and “poetic foreshadowing.” Describing a wasp sting that blinded Gisèle on the day she met her husband as “poetic” feels like a forced literary device applied to a life that was eventually shattered by that very man. The review prioritizes cleverness and structure over the raw empathy the subject matter demands. It looks at the horror through a high-fashion lens, and that artifice often creates a barrier for a reader seeking genuine human weight.
