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A review by kris_mccracken
Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty
5.0
Don't let Liane Moriarty's breezy prose style fool you: beneath that sparkling surface lies a keen eye for the darker currents of women's lives. She serves up uncomfortable truths with a spoonful of sugar, making the medicine go down almost too smoothly. This knack for juxtaposing the bitter with the sweet is what sets "Big Little Lies" apart, turning what could have been a mere beach read into a compelling exploration of secrets, lies and the facades we so carefully construct.
The novel juggles weighty themes like domestic violence and sexual consent alongside sharply observed social satire about helicopter parents, yoga-obsessed second wives and the social hierarchies of school mums. It's this deft balance between darkness and light that gives the story its unique punch. The narrative dances between scenes of domestic terror and deliciously catty observations about life in an affluent seaside suburb, creating a tonal equilibrium that's disarming yet deeply disturbing.
Yes, some characters initially feel like they've stepped out of a rom-com, but Moriarty gives them enough sharp edges and genuine pain to transcend this. Madeline's sharp wit, Celeste's unnerving vulnerability, and Jane's quiet resilience invite more than just casual empathy; they challenge us to see beyond the archetypes to the real, flawed women beneath; the story's sincerity wins out over its occasional predictability.
The murder mystery framework feels a bit forced, but it works. The Greek chorus interludes from random locals and cops don't always hit the mark, landing somewhere between a clever literary device and a convenient plot crutch. Yet, even if the whodunnit element feels somewhat superfluous, it adds an undercurrent of suspense that helps keep the narrative taut.
For mine, Moriarty gets unfairly criticised for writing about women's lives with wit and warmth. Yet her insights into human nature are razor-sharp, regardless of whether they come wrapped in prosecco references or school pickup politics. She tackles serious issues without sanctimony, laying bare the harrowing realities of domestic violence with a raw, visceral honesty that feels like a slap awake from a pleasant dream. When the novel finally bares its teeth, showing the brutal reality of masculine sadism, the ferocity Moriarty brings to these scenes is truly shocking and believable.
In "Big Little Lies", Moriarty crafts a tale that's not afraid to charm while cutting deep, offering a vivid portrayal of the lies we tell others (and ourselves). It's a novel that invites you to laugh, scoff, and gasp in equal measure, and if some of its elements feel a bit contrived, it's only because the rest of it is so unnervingly real. The result is an absorbing and insightful story that confronts the darkness lurking beneath the sunniest of exteriors.
⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
The novel juggles weighty themes like domestic violence and sexual consent alongside sharply observed social satire about helicopter parents, yoga-obsessed second wives and the social hierarchies of school mums. It's this deft balance between darkness and light that gives the story its unique punch. The narrative dances between scenes of domestic terror and deliciously catty observations about life in an affluent seaside suburb, creating a tonal equilibrium that's disarming yet deeply disturbing.
Yes, some characters initially feel like they've stepped out of a rom-com, but Moriarty gives them enough sharp edges and genuine pain to transcend this. Madeline's sharp wit, Celeste's unnerving vulnerability, and Jane's quiet resilience invite more than just casual empathy; they challenge us to see beyond the archetypes to the real, flawed women beneath; the story's sincerity wins out over its occasional predictability.
The murder mystery framework feels a bit forced, but it works. The Greek chorus interludes from random locals and cops don't always hit the mark, landing somewhere between a clever literary device and a convenient plot crutch. Yet, even if the whodunnit element feels somewhat superfluous, it adds an undercurrent of suspense that helps keep the narrative taut.
For mine, Moriarty gets unfairly criticised for writing about women's lives with wit and warmth. Yet her insights into human nature are razor-sharp, regardless of whether they come wrapped in prosecco references or school pickup politics. She tackles serious issues without sanctimony, laying bare the harrowing realities of domestic violence with a raw, visceral honesty that feels like a slap awake from a pleasant dream. When the novel finally bares its teeth, showing the brutal reality of masculine sadism, the ferocity Moriarty brings to these scenes is truly shocking and believable.
In "Big Little Lies", Moriarty crafts a tale that's not afraid to charm while cutting deep, offering a vivid portrayal of the lies we tell others (and ourselves). It's a novel that invites you to laugh, scoff, and gasp in equal measure, and if some of its elements feel a bit contrived, it's only because the rest of it is so unnervingly real. The result is an absorbing and insightful story that confronts the darkness lurking beneath the sunniest of exteriors.
⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐