Autumn 2026 – Farrah – Strangers

Belle. Beautiful. The French female equivalent of beau. Beautiful woman, woman burden? Beauty: a moniker for how well one is perceived. A burden. Burden to be a woman, burden to perform.  

The author has an undeniably eye-catching name, doesn’t she? Even with no knowledge of her prolific family history, her familial wealth, the fact that she is a descendant of the Vanderbilt family, one cannot help but be drawn to Strangers: A Memoir of Marriage, a debut novel expanded from a viral essay she wrote for The New York Times in 2023. Without even having to read the blurb, one can sniff out the stench of a tragedy. But perhaps it isn’t wise to solely focus on her dramatic surname. Let us dive into the body of Burden’s real-life memoir.

The book’s opening chapter is akin to a blow to the head, when Belle’s husband, without warning, makes the decision to leave her. He does this a day after Belle finds out about his workplace affair. She becomes disillusioned, not just by her previously thought to be perfect spouse, but her life as a whole and the decisions that led up to this point. She reflects upon her family, her career, and her fraught idyllic love story. These developments are further complicated by the timing of it all: 2020, the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. Nevertheless, Belle’s ex-husband, under the pseudonym James, follows through with cutting ties with his wife and kids, outright refusing the possibility for joint custody of the latter. He adamantly fights to enforce the hostile prenup between them, risking Belle losing everything near and dear to her. After all, in order to start with a clean slate, he must set fire to all that was before. He appears indifferent to the flames. Belle, attempting not to burn, must reckon with this new person who is akin to a stranger in her eyes, though, arguably, he always was.  

The question on both the reader and the author’s mind remains: Why? Why leave so suddenly when your family needs you most? Why treat your former spouse so cruelly in the face of devastation and ruin? Why opt to vanish from your children’s lives? What do you want, James? Or rather, who are you, James? 

Though she does not spare the reader any details of his deceit and cruelty, James is not portrayed as the cold-hearted villain I may have crafted in my reader’s mind by stating the facts so plainly. No, his pre-pandemic side is warm, loving, and devoted. As newlyweds, he is elated and plans their honeymoon “meticulously,” not letting Belle worry about a single thing; he supports her after her father’s sudden passing; he is a self-prescribed “family man” and takes his kids on trips all around the world. This version of James starkly contrasts with his more eerie, almost chilling moments in the book, such as the time he texts Belle: “That was a great visit!” after leaving his kids in a state of devastation and disarray, informing them about the impending divorce. The following scene then transpires: “I tried to grab her, but she fled down the stairs, wailing in agony. Evie sat still and silent, with her arms crossed. James turned to me and said, “‘I’m starving, can you make me a sandwich?’”

This is without a doubt one of the most jaw-dropping moments in the novel. How can he make such a demand at a moment like this? It is puzzling, bizarre, and offensive. In moments like these, he appears almost alien, and this further cements his position as a stranger to Belle. One aspect Burden’s book fails in is fully grasping James’ actions and character. Neither the reader nor Burden understands how these two versions of his being exist inside the same man. I could never tell if I liked or disliked this aspect of her memoir. Though James is written with depth, it is not a depth I can truly grasp. Alas, this can be attributed to the one-sided nature of the text. At all times he remains distant and strange as a result.  

But there’s another layer that is pervasive in Burden’s work and is nigh impossible to ignore. The small, subtle differences in the way Belle and James operate: the aforementioned prenup that he drafts that Belle’s lawyer disapproves of, his annoyance with Belle being offered a high-ranking position at a law firm (“You can’t do that. You need to be here for the kids.”), his refusal to take part in the domestic, and prioritising work above anything and everything else. These events both subtly foreshadow Belle’s immediate present and demonstrate her shy and meek demeanour, which is unable to (initially) resist James’ more domineering characteristics. It reveals a tension between them, marked by the roles they are expected to inhabit. James especially is someone who almost imperceptibly undermines Belle at every turn under the guise of maintaining a traditional family structure and, most of all, of upholding patriarchy.  

When James asks, after all he has done, for Belle to make him a sandwich, she does not yell, she does not retaliate, she gets up and makes him a sandwich, thinking to herself: “How could he leave a wife who made such good sandwiches?” How hopeful she is that he will change his mind about the whole thing. This is absurd, of course. 

But is it?  

Why shouldn’t Belle believe this? She has done everything a wife and a mother ought in her relationship, so why exactly can’t a really good sandwich served on “a white plate with a bamboo rim and sliced in half” be able to save her marriage? No, it cannot, Burden says. The marriage was flawed to begin with. James and Belle cling onto these roles of husband and wife like their lives depended on it (and in many ways they did), breeding a perfectly imbalanced relationship. He handles the finances and remarks that he doesn’t do “bath, bed, or homework,” she handles cleaning and pickup of the kids, only working as a lawyer pro bono when she can. Judith Butler, the notorious gender theorist, froths at the mouth upon this dynamic.  

They posit that:  

“If gender is instituted through acts which are internally discontinuous, then the appearance of substance is precisely that, a constructed identity, a performative accomplishment which the mundane social audience, including the actors themselves, come to believe and to perform in the mode of belief.”

Belle is merely a performer, as is James, who can use this to his advantage in many cases. Perhaps this is why they end up so distant from each other, because they are not familiar with what lies beneath the façade. Even so, Belle does not hold resentment towards James, at least not during the marriage. It only has room to be expressed once she is free of this dynamic, once she no longer bears the onus to perform. But time and time again the remnants of this performance seep through in Burden’s writing. Belle has long been defined by her restraint and her shyness. Though I praise the writer’s nuanced portrayal of her ex-spouse by avoiding making him a cartoon villain, it also feels like at times she is trying to sidestep the stereotype of the “bitter, discarded wife ranting about her villainous husband.” She seems apprehensive almost to show the reader her full spectrum of emotions, her rage in particular. This is exemplified by the following passage about her birthday: 

“Over the years, I stopped asking him to make plans; I orchestrated the day for myself, I went to the movies, I made dinner reservations, Susan bought me the cake. It didn’t really bother me. I saw it as a difference in how we grew up, not a reflection of how he felt about me.”

Of course, this is an undeniably sad anecdote, yet it still has an air of making excuses for James. She mitigates how much this hurt her by invoking his childhood, and in this way, she does not let herself feel justifiably angry. After all, anger is not becoming of a woman; it deviates from the role she is accustomed to inhabiting, and it is not what others expect from her. Shortly after this passage, she decidedly reminisces on the year he did do something nice for her, something wonderful actually. On her 42nd birthday he was able to secure the keys to a private beach at the vineyard, something apparently very difficult to accomplish, which Belle is over the moon about. She doesn’t necessarily need to do this, it is almost as if she has to compensate for the fact she wrote her memoir in the first place by highlighting his redeemable traits. This can be frustrating, but it also serves a purpose. Though this type of writing may very well be a symptom of her socialisation, it is also a testament to what makes this book shine. Belle is continuously wrestling with her image of James, the man she knew and the man she once fell in love with; the man she had three kids with, and the man he showed himself to be:; the man who abandoned them, the man who is heartless. Her attempts to consolidate these two characters build the backbone of this narrative.  

Coming back to her writing style, there was one passage which particularly stood out: 

“I’m amazed by this now, by my candour, given my embarrassment, given my shyness, but it felt like my only choice. I had an open wound and needed to say, This is why I am bleeding.”  

Burden’s words are always careful, precise, and intentional, as if her one and only concern is to express that very sentiment: “This is why I am bleeding.” This keeps the reader engaged and always wanting to know more, despite her self-proclaimed reserved and quiet demeanour. More and more, as she begins to unpack this tragic event in her life, her words become bolder, less constrained by what she should or shouldn’t say, until she is no longer scared by the book’s very premise. But one more question remains on the reader’s mind…Why should I care? If this sounds crass and out of nowhere, I would not blame you, dear reader, but let me elaborate. 

Something Burden is not burdened by is money. She is rich. Rich rich. Generational wealth amounts of rich, the problems she faces are severely cushioned by the Scrooge McDuck-style gold coin filled swimming pool she has in her basement. She owns multiple properties and employs stay-at-home babysitters: “It was the easy version, of stay-at-home motherhood.” Why should I, lowly peasant as I am, have any empathy for her? Well, whether it be out of shame, or guilt, and/or self-awareness, Burden does not shy away from letting readers know about her privilege. She is deeply conscious of it and does not hide the fact that she is in a much better situation than most. Her pain remains tangible, which is an element readers can latch onto, as well as the ever pervasive nature of patriarchy. It seems the wealthier men become, the worse their reign of terror. I don’t relate to Burden, but I can’t say I don’t sympathise with her.  

Strangers: A Memoir of Marriage by Belle Burden acts as a fantastic vessel for female rage and female fortitude. Its intimate, yet nuanced portrayal of one failed relationship is bound to resonate with many others like it.