The Weakness of the Inner Sanctum

              I recently finished reading the book "Picture Perfect" by Jodi Picoult. It was the first of her novel that I have read that was not a murder mystery. This reeled me in because the aspect that I usually find most appealing about her books is the fact that she integrates the technicalities of a murder trial with the heart wrenching backstory. Putting in stark contrast the emotional bloody throbbing of human nature with the cold, measured precision of courtroom proceedings. When picking up the book, I expected it to be derivative of these earlier books, but it was extremely different.
            "Picture Perfect" follows the tale of Cassie Barret. Or should I say, Cassie Rivers. Cassie is intelligent, mildly attractive, sensible and quiet in mien but what sets her apart from most women is that she is married to the most famous movie star in the United States, Alex Rivers. This is not to say that they have a perfect life. Oh no, Cassie is haunted by dreams of her childhood best friend, whom she watched die and her alcoholic mother, while Alex still cannot separate himself from the boy whose father forced him to "be a man" by spending days in snake infested bayous and earning bruises in New Orleans. In fact, the reason that Alex became an actor, as Picoult basically tells us, is to escape the person who he has become. That he does not know how to be someone decent, and this tortures him. Tortures him so much, in fact, that it leads him to brutally beat Cassie for something as benign as leaving his sneakers (of which he has many pairs as he is a star of epic proportions) outside. Cassie "escapes" by running away with her new friend (and possibly romantic interest?) Will Flying Horse to his families' reservation in South Dakota. But eventually returns to Alex, only to "leave him for good."
                If you could not tell by the tone of my summary, the book disgusted me. Its not to say that JOdi Picoult's books are the epitome of valid and layered adult fiction, but she is better than the trash I found myself reading. For one, Cassie and Alex's love story was not believable. They "got married six weeks after {they} met," and Cassie became totally integrated into his life as a movie star. They had the perfect wedding in Tanzania with all movie star trappings and moved back to Alex's mansion. There were no minute details to make it believable or even plausible. And even while I cringed at Cassie's beatings, it repulsed me how spineless she was, how SHE apologized to this man who broke her ribs for breaking a glass. How even after moving away for six months, she still returned to his side, a shadow that moved with him wherever he went. She continued to shape her form around his needs, becoming more of him than of her. I tried to understand  by comparing it to an addiction, you have to never have another drink of snort again to be completely clean, you can't let yourself slip up like Cassie did.
              But I guess I don't understand love, I can't fathom any emotion that would make Cassie come back; any gift. How can Cassie still call Alex her love? her other half? One can never fully trust someone again after they have damaged you so completely. There is an irrevocable difference between what has come before, and what life will proceed as. Cassie is spineless, and she has dug her own grave. By refusing to get out of her abusive entanglement with Alex she has sacrificed herself, her innermost sanctum to his wills and promises. And while her neck is "hung with a necklace of purple bruises" what is most violated is her soul.