The gaslighting is the point
Alice Feeney has built a career on making readers feel like the floor might turn into a trapdoor at any moment, and My Husband’s Wife is her most aggressive attempt yet at pulling the rug out. The setup is the kind of visceral nightmare that works because it’s so grounded: you go for a run, you come back, and your life has been overwritten. The key doesn't fit. Your husband looks at you like a stranger.
It’s a specific brand of domestic noir that thrives on the "unreliable everything" trope. You aren't just dealing with an unreliable narrator; you're dealing with an unreliable reality. If you’re the type of reader who tries to solve the mystery by page 50, Feeney is essentially daring you to try. She leans hard into the psychological friction of identity—how much of "you" is just the fact that your spouse and your house recognize you? When those things are stripped away, the book gets dark fast.
The "Death Date" curveball
What elevates this from a standard husband-is-cheating plot is the Birdy storyline. The introduction of a London clinic that claims to predict your date of death adds a layer of existential dread that feels very "Black Mirror" by way of a seaside village.
This subplot is where the book finds its teeth. While Eden is dealing with the immediate crisis of her stolen life in Hope Falls, Birdy’s timeline provides the slow-burn context. The "death clinic" element could have felt like a gimmick, but Feeney uses it to ramp up the stakes. It forces the characters (and you) to ask if knowing the end makes the present more or less meaningful. It’s the kind of high-concept pivot that makes this feel more modern than the thrillers your mom used to pass around.
Who this is actually for
If your nightstand is a rotating door of Lisa Jewell and Freida McFadden, you already know the vibe. It’s propulsive, it’s a bit mean, and it’s designed to be read in two sittings.
For parents, this is the ultimate "after hours" book. You don't want to be halfway through a chapter about a woman losing her entire identity while your toddler is screaming for a juice box; you need the mental bandwidth to track the timelines. It’s also worth noting that while the "sexy" elements mentioned by critics are there, they serve the plot rather than just being filler.
If you’re wondering if this is something to hand off to a thriller-obsessed teenager, check out our parent’s guide to My Husband's Wife for a breakdown of why this one stays on the adult shelf. The themes of terminal illness and extreme psychological manipulation are heavy hitters that require a certain level of emotional maturity to actually enjoy.
How to read it
Don't savor this. Thrillers like this are built for momentum. If you let it sit for a week between chapters, the intricate web of lies starts to feel more like a chore than a puzzle. Treat it like a limited series binge—clear a weekend, ignore your "to-read" pile of self-improvement books, and just let Alice Feeney lie to you for a few hundred pages. It’s a masterclass in the "just one more chapter" trap.
