“The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo” by Taylor Jenkins Reid

I’m begging you, Taylor Jenkins Reid, please write what you know

By: Megan Phillips

“The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo” by Taylor Jenkins Reid follows an interview between Evelyn Hugo, a Hollywood star who came to fame in the ‘50s as a “sexpot,” known for her physique and Oscar-winning performances, and Monique Grant, a magazine reporter tasked with writing Evelyn’s biography. In their sessions, Evelyn provides Monique with an unedited version of her entire life, seven husbands and all. As with anything in Hollywood, there are more parts to Evelyn’s story than Monique originally thought, one of which involves Monique herself.

The problems begin on page one. I had barely gotten to the end of the page before I cringed. I almost didn’t continue but I wanted my money’s worth. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. I bought the book for full price at Barnes and Noble after seeing it trend on TikTok, praised as one of the best reads of the year for its inclusion of gay, bisexual, and BIPOC characters. I was excited to escape into a good book after weeks of nonstop schoolwork, but I was poorly misled. This is one of the most tone-deaf “inclusive” books I’ve ever read. For good reason, too: unsurprisingly, Reid is straight and white. 

I believe the main issue with this book is that it attempts to tackle too many subjects in which Reid has no personal experience or knowledge of, including homophobia and racism. She does tackle sexism, which she has presumably experienced, but it is inevitably intertwined with homophobia and racism, making the discussion of sexism fall flat due to the lack of sincerity in discussions of sexuality and race. In attempting to tackle so many issues in these limited pages, Reid reveals how little she knows about being queer and BIPOC, and this resulted in some passages feeling homophobic and racist—not the book’s intention.

Let’s talk about the racist language first. It begins on page one, when Reid describes Monique as “a biracial woman [with] light brown hair and dark brown eyes courtesy of [her] black father, an abundance of freckles courtesy of [her] white mother.” The problems continue when Monique describes Evelyn: “I know it’s not natural—hair that blond with skin that bronze—and yet I can’t shake the feeling that it should be, that humans should be born looking like this.” Ick. Why is everyone in the book so obsessed with Evelyn’s unnaturally bleached hair and dark skin tone? Even Celia does this, saying to Evelyn that she “like[s] the way [her] skin is too dark for [her] blond hair, the way the two shouldn’t go together and yet seem so natural.” Later, Monique describes not feeling black or white enough, but this is mentioned randomly throughout the story, almost as if Reid wants people to say, “Ah, yes. See, she can write a biracial character. She gets the struggle.” Does she, though? A white woman raised in Massachusetts and living in LA? It feels off—performative almost.

Secondly, the book is wildly homophobic. This is especially prevalent in how Reid writes about the relationship between Celia and Evelyn. The first time that they kiss, all Evelyn can think about is the difference between kissing Celia and kissing a man. “She swelled in all the places Don went flat. She was flat in all the places Don swelled.” As a bisexual woman who has kissed both men and women, I can tell you that when kissing a woman, a bisexual woman is NOT thinking about men. This thinking is far too straight and narrow for the gay community. It becomes obvious that Celia and Evelyn were written from the male gaze, rather than the female gaze, as their relationship progresses. I believe Reid did this because she thinks queer women are the same as straight men, viewing women in the same predatory, sexually motivated way.  Evelyn describes the way Celia looks at her as “intoxicating” and “like a rare steak in front of a tiger.” Later, Celia tells Evelyn that she’s only “a nice pair of tits” that “make people think of undressing [her] just by showing up in a room fully clothed.” Would a queer woman really say this about another woman she is romantically interested in? Or is this just how straight women think that queer women think? Like straight men? I don’t think so. Sadly, Celia and Evelyn’s relationship was demeaning and hurtful—far from the iconic gay love story I was promised by the raving five-star reviews.  

This being said, I did read the whole book in a few short days. Reid’s writing isn’t bad—it just isn’t what it could be. If Reid chose to write straight white characters, I believe they would, despite being straight and white, have more depth than Evelyn and Monique. They would read as more real and authentic because they would be the result of Reid’s personal experiences, not someone else’s. Please, Reid, write what you know and leave BIPOC storytelling to BIPOC authors. They know what they’re doing. Readers, do your part and read BIPOC and queer stories. I suggest anything written by Alice Walker or Toni Morrison, specifically “The Color Purple” by Alice Walker if you’re looking for a real iconic gay love story.