Published in Sweden in 2019; published in translation by Knopf on July 7, 2020
The Golden Cage might be characterized as a female empowerment thriller. The protagonist, Faye, had an abusive father, although he generally saved his physical abuse for Faye’s mother. Faye went on to forego a college education so that she could stay home and raise children after using her business acumen to help her husband grow rich. When he betrays her by having endless affairs before dumping her in favor of a younger woman and leaving her penniless, she vows to get revenge. She believes that “no act of vengeance could be too brutal” for a husband who cheated her out the life she feels she deserved. She also vows to empower other women to seek vengeance again the evil men who betray them.
The reality is that women betray men in growing numbers — although probably not as often as men betray women — and that women are becoming more willing to admit their infidelity, perhaps because it empowers them to do so. While it is easy to be sympathetic with anyone who has been betrayed, Camilla Läckberg’s caricature of Faye’s husband as an evil man and his wife as a victim who is justified in seeking revenge is hard to take seriously. It was, after all, Faye’s choice to end her career. It was Faye’s choice to stay with Jack long after his narcissistic nature became apparent. It was Faye’s choice to help Jack with his business, even as Jack took credit for her efforts. It was her choice to say yes when Jack asked her to get a boob job. Faye has little insight into the role she played in her own destruction.
Even so, I might have been sympathetic to Faye if she hadn’t become obsessed with revenge. When Faye involves her innocent daughter in a scheme to get even with her ex-husband, I lost what little sympathy I could muster for her cause. I don’t know if Faye is meant to be a role model, an example of how strong women can prevail, but she isn’t someone I would want a child to emulate. Flashbacks to Faye’s childhood only enhance the reader’s perception that Faye has a long pattern of being driven by revenge and self-pity.
The plot requires the reader to believe too many impossible things at once. Having been rendered penniless, Faye starts a dog walking service and leverages her capital to create, almost overnight, an incredibly successful cosmetics company. Who knew that financial success can be achieved so easily? She enlists the support of powerful women in her company by branding it as a crusade against men, then uses her financial might to take down Jack’s company. To do that, she needs to seduce Jack again — multiple times — all the while comparing Jack in excessive detail to the new stud lover who made her realize that Jack is incapable of satisfying a woman. Are we supposed to think that this somehow makes Faye any better than Jack?
A shallow plot, a cringe-inducing protagonist, and lurid prose make The Golden Cage a chore to read. Jack is a stereotype of an abusive misogynist male. Faye is a stereotype of a vengeful woman. Blurbs compare The Golden Cage to Gone Girl, but Gone Girl has insightful, nuanced things to say about the way men and women relate to each other. The ultimate point of Gone Girl is that revenge is a dish best left unserved. While the Golden Cage reads like an attempt to rip off the premise of Gone Girl, it is an unimaginative revenge fantasy that fails to explore the moral implications of the protagonist’s immoral actions. The twist ending attempts to double down on Gone Girl but it is too derivative to be effective. I really don’t understand why this book was a success in any language.
NOT RECOMMENDED