It's hard to believe this is Ms Maley's first book, and only book so far. Her day job is as a journalist with the Sydney Morning Herald, so writing is not new to her, but I found this book outstanding. Ostensibly the book is about a journalist who writes an expose about an internet sensation that has lied about having cancer and curing herself. The day after her article is written, the woman kills herself. But there is so much else going on. Suzy Hamilton is a single mum living in Glebe in Sydney in her elderly great uncle's house raising Maddy. I loved how Maddy played such an important and real part of the story. I love books taking place in my hometown, Glebe has been part of several good books I have read of late, so it almost feels like home to me (I live a few kms away).
I really liked this book a lot and hope to see another book from Ms Maley. I have included some notes/quotes from the book below, if anyone can tell me how to highlight them from a library book onto Goodreads, I would appreciate it. It automatically does it from my kindle, no idea how to do it otherwise. And as it was a library ebook, which I usually read on Adobe, I could not make the font bigger on this one for the first time, so the print was really small across the entire page, which made reading difficult. But the content was excellent. 5 full stars from me.
Small women always made me feel overly large, as though my person was spilling out over the edges, even though I dieted to keep myself within what I deemed were the acceptable borders. pg 58
Married life was her destination.
But Beverley’s problem had always been that her intelligence out-stripped her imagination, so after a few years, when she got bored and very angry, she didn’t know why. pg 93
My mother had a special gift for the manipulation of silence. pg 96
I pondered whether that’s why I had ended up with a man like Charlie, who offered the promise of great love but always welched on it, a man who shrouded his own need by turning on those who loved him, by telling them – by telling me – that he despised me, that he thought me pathetic, ugly and
low; a man who forgot, or misplaced, in his war on me, the capacious needs of our daughter. pg 96
He just got sozzled every lunchtime and fell asleep by mid-afternoon, if he could, and then perked up for dinner, where he could serve his own thirst under the shroud of serving drinks to his family. He was what they called functional. The alcohol helped him segue out of situations. Through it, he was able to leave, without moving, and without rancour. He could absent himself without causing any bother. It was a style of life management I thought had its merits. I dipped into it myself, from time to time. pg 96
She looked at him like she was hungry and he was a snack. pg 214
These days I often found myself looking at young girls with great tenderness, thinking about how Maddy would one day be one – a jumble of self-consciousness and need and foalish limbs. A fragile, strong thing. It was like the inverse feeling to nostalgia, like a tender longing for something that hasn’t happened yet. pg 241