Liane Moriarty’s international bestseller, Big Little Lies, has all the hallmarks of terrific school-gate-lit – the grisly details of PTA meetings, cliques, and passive-aggressive care-packages of vegetarian lasagne. And yet, this book left me feeling conflicted.
The story follows three women, each dealing with their own issues but united by the fact that they all have five-year-olds starting school. Extroverted Madeline is juggling her relationship with her teenage daughter from her first marriage, her ex and her current husband. Beautiful Celeste seems to have it all – a wonderful husband, gorgeous twin boys, plenty of money – but it’s not what it appears. Single mum Jane simply has a lot of baggage and is struggling to settle into her new routine.
Big Little Lies is pitched as light fare and Moriarty sets the scene in the opening chapters with ever-so-slightly snarky descriptions of mothers of gifted children, women boasting about bathroom renovations and strategic but pointed distribution of invites to a fifth birthday party. She covers all the stereotypes and drops in some enticing tidbits about the drama that will befall this group – it’s all quite fun.
Gabrielle – “It was an accident. Davina was hugging Rowena – she’d just made some sort of announcement. I think she’d reached her goal weight…”
Jackie – “No, Rowena had just announced she’d bought a Thermomix…. so of course Davina hugged her.
However (and it’s a big however), the story is predominantly about the very serious issue of domestic violence. I really struggled with switching gears between Moriarty’s rather glib tone about playground politics and Celeste being thrown against the wall by her husband. Sure, Moriarty never jokes about it or makes light of domestic violence but within the context of the story, I didn’t feel the issue was taken seriously enough.
There were other niggles. The protracted suspense, made more irritating by the back-and-forth between past and present, was tiring. And despite a few red herrings, I guessed one of the key plot points very early on, which made the slow eking of details doubly tiring.
2.5/5 Not for me.
The PTA creates a special cocktail for the Trivia Night, called ‘Not on a School Night’ – no idea what was in it but I do know they drunk a lot of them. Try a Paloma instead.
As part of the 20 Books of Summer reading challenge, I’m comparing the Belfast summer and the Melburnian winter – the results for the day I finished this book (August 23): Belfast 13°-18°, Melbourne 7°-16°.
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I reviewed this one recently too, off the audio book version, chosen more or less randomly from the local library to listen to at work. For me the main theme was the bullying which Jane’s son was accused of, and the domestic violence, while treated seriously as you say, was just a plot device to make Celeste’s husband into a villain. But I must say I enjoyed it as a light, romantic comedy, albeit in a strikingly all-white, middle class setting.
I also listened to the audio version and thought the production and narrator was excellent.
Agree that bullying is a main theme – it was another of my niggles actually. I have kids in primary school (in a very white-bread, middle class school – many similarities to the school in the book!) and I have to say that the way the situation that occurs with Jane’s son is handled would NEVER happen – the petition, the parents taking it upon themselves to police it, the accusations without evidence… Bullying happens at every school (and if a school says they don’t need a policy because it doesn’t happen there, I always think ‘Run a mile from that school!) but the way that it is handled is what’s important and in this regard, Big Little Lies just didn’t ring true. Again, maybe I’m being overly critical because I’m living it now but the book wasn’t the light fare I was expecting (after a few poor audio choices, I decided to stick with light, fluffier choices for listening to in the car and while I’m out walking!).
Funnily enough, this is actually the first thing that’s made me want to read this book. Maybe it’s just how delicious that cocktail looks.
*recommends books by stealth* 😉
As the parent of a five-year-old about to start school, I think this would make me too anxious. But that cocktail looks mighty good!
Depending on which way you look at it, it could be good to read it (to know what to avoid!) 😀
We’re currently enjoying a week of Port Fougkas winter. Today it was a cool 26 degrees, but we managed a walk along the beach and a swim in the pool despite the chill in the air!!
Yikes hate auto correct *Port Douglas
I’m VERY, VERY jealous! 🙂
It’s great to read this review. I’ve been tossing up whether to read this (I too have kids in white bread, south east suburb school in Melbourne). I think I’ll give this a miss. I read to escape reality, not to re-live my reality!!
I felt the same way (and it is very accurate in terms of the school politics). Since I’ve been living it for nearly 15 years, I find the whole mum-lit scene a bit tiring.
I didn’t love this as much as everyone else either. A bit more than you perhaps but I certainly didn’t love it!
I picked it up because people RAVED about it. I can understand why it was a bestseller but alas, not my scene.
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I can see how it would certainly be off-putting to try to combine a lightness in addition to a serious topic like that. Can’t say I would have been too impressed with it either! Have yet to read anything by Moriarty but when I do it won’t likely be this one. Great review. 🙂
According to friends who’ve read lots of her books, this one and What Alice Forgot are her best. I have Alice although not rushing to read it – I think she has a formula (reminds me a bit of Kate Morton and how she structures her novels) and I guess it’s not for me.
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