Review from an Amazon commentJane is the newcomer; she's a young, single mother with a young son called Ziggy. Jane is very different to most of the other mothers at the school. She's not obsessed with her appearance, or by money, she doesn't have a husband who earns a huge salary. She's desperate to be accepted though and is delighted to find friendship in two of the most powerful mothers in town. However, things begin to go very wrong for Jane and Ziggy after an incident in the school playground, and suddenly mothers are against mothers.
Little Lies is a very clever story. The reader knows from page one that something terrible happened at the School Trivia Night, we know that someone is dead, but we don't know who it is, or who the murderer is, or why.
Liane Moriarty expertly weaves this story. Hooking the reader from the start with the big whodunnit and then skipping back a few months to gradually build up both the plot and the characters. There is a real credibility to these characters and the development of their relationships are excellently done. The author expertly portrays what appears to be a perfect life on the outside whilst allowing the reader glimpses into the sordid and often violent secrets lying below the surface.
Madeline had told her children that if they were naughty Santa Claus might leave them a wrapped-up potato, and they would always wonder what the wonderful gift was that the potato replaced.
‘Every day I think, gosh you look a bit tired today, and it’s just recently occurred to me that it’s not that I’m tired, it’s that this is the way I look now.’
Every child was looking straight ahead, little backs straight, enthralled by the spectacle in front of them, and every parent had turned to look at their child’s profile, enchanted by their enchantment.
Nothing and nobody could aggravate you the way your child could aggravate you.
‘I mean a fat, ugly man can still be funny and lovable and successful,’ continued Jane. ‘But it’s like it’s the most shameful thing for a woman to be.’
It seemed to her that Jane’s mother had probably helped lay the groundwork for Jane’s mixed-up feelings about food. The media had done its bit and women in general, with their willingness to feel bad about themselves, and then Saxon Banks had finished the job.
‘He’s not sharing!’ screamed Chloe. ‘Sharing is caring!’ ‘You get what you get and you don’t get upset!’ screamed Fred.
There were so many levels of evil in the world. Small evils like her own malicious words. Like not inviting a child to a party. Bigger evils like walking out on your wife with a newborn baby and sleeping with your child’s nanny. And then there was the sort of evil of which Madeline had no experience: cruelty in hotel rooms and violence in suburban homes and little girls being sold like merchandise, shattering innocent hearts.