Wife - Charlotte Mendelson
Charlotte Mendelson’s book Wife follows Zoe Stamper, who is swept into an intoxicating, unreachable world when she begins a relationship with the older, sophisticated Dr Penny Cartwright. Years later, trapped in a marriage built on secrecy and fear, she fights to break free in a story that moves between past and present to reveal the horror, humour and suspense of her midlife escape…
And though it sounds thrilling, I can only give it two stars. When I started reading, I had high hopes — maybe I’m biased, being a lesbian who naturally gets excited about lesbian literature — but I was unfortunately, severely let down. This is one of the worst lesbian literature novels I’ve ever read, and here’s why:
For starters, I didn’t like Mendelson’s writing style. The prose feels like constant yapping, it’s like she’s desperate to be funny but the humour never lands. There isn’t really a solid plot line, either, making the whole thing dull, and the random character facts sprinkled throughout add nothing except my growing urge to skim. The book is exhausting — 356 pages of arguments, tangents, and conversations that go nowhere because the same character wins every time.
First, there’s Penny, who is straight‑up manipulative in that “don’t interrupt me, Zoe” way. And Zoe barely speaks, almost never stands up for herself, and somehow manages to be both sympathetic and maddening. I never felt like I truly knew her, but I did repeatedly want to slap some sense into her. Penny, meanwhile, is childish, controlling, and deeply unlikeable. Together, they make an infuriating pair of protagonists who drag the story down rather than carry it. I mean, I questioned almost every decision the characters made — including the side characters — and my frustration grew with each baffling course of action. It’s honestly a miracle I didn’t stop reading halfway through.
Furthermore, the whole back‑and‑forth structure between present and future just didn’t work for me — it felt chaotic, like the book kept yanking me out of one moment before I’d even settled into it. Instead of feeling clever or layered, the jumps made the story hard to follow, and because Mendelson was feeding me soooooooo much information at once, my brain eventually tapped out and started quietly zoning into the void. Half the time I was asking myself why on earth I needed to know any of these random details, and the other half I was flipping back a page trying to remember where we even were in the timeline.
Despite all this, the novel does explore meaningful themes. Mendelson examines power imbalance, showing how Penny’s behaviour shapes every corner of Zoe’s life. The split timeline highlights how a once‑liberating relationship becomes suffocating, and the domestic setting builds a sense of claustrophobia that mirrors Zoe’s emotional trap. And so, at its core, Wife is about how love curdles into control, and how escaping long‑term manipulation requires confronting both your partner and yourself. It’s powerful material — some of which Mendelson handles well and I can see she worked hard to convey — but overall, the execution simply doesn’t live up to the weight of the story.
And on that terrible note, I leave you with some advice of my own: if you want to dive head‑first into a story about a disastrous relationship, relive pure toxicity, or you’re simply curious about how bad this book actually is… go ahead, read it. Otherwise, honestly, it’s not worth the emotional calories. Lesbianism isn’t painted in a good light here at all — instead of celebrating something beautiful and heartwarming, the novel leans into tired, messy tropes we spend every Pride month trying to shake off. Watching it flatten something rich and complex into chaos and misery is just… sad. So yes, while some readers might find value in its darker themes, I strongly advise you to avoid it if that’s not your point of interest.
But just incase, you can buy your copy of the novel here: https://amzn.eu/d/0bfAjISf