The Husband’s Secret by Liane Moriarty

Ugh, Liane Moriarty, you genius. How did you know that my favorite Enid Blyton stories were the ones titled things like “A Bit Of Temper”? You’ve managed to write a novel both complex and heartening that still manages to satisfy that unsophisticated need in me for neatness in the universe. Your characters are whole and difficult and at once easy to understand and sympathize with: the perfect thing to read out on the deck with a cup of tea, quietly laughing and crying and glad for the fact that the neighbours on that side haven’t moved in yet. I did think the epilogue (excepting the bits about Janie) was a touch unnecessary, but otherwise this was popular fiction at its near finest, and I only say “near” because Big Little Lies was an even better example of the genre.

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