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203 pages, Kindle Edition
Published November 11, 2025
None of us wants to write about this. And none of us wants not to write about it.
One wild domestic detail galvanises us: his dying aunt remembered the guests ate off four grey plates, while the hostess served herself on an orange one.
Sarah: Helen and I texted 'a nice bowl of porridge' to each other at the same time, and I knew she had teared up too. It's those tiny, quotidian details that contain the world - we can all relate to them.
Chloe: Even the way that she behaved after the murderous lunch is unhinged.
Sarah: And again, there's this keeling between deep premeditation and...
Chloe: ...no plan at all.
Sarah: Why didn't she smash that dehydrator into a million pieces and bury each shard in the bush? ... It must be one of the worst own goals in history, and it exists alongside this meticulous, calculated planning. Bigness and smallness.
Helen: The thing about female poisoners is it's the flip side of mothering. It's the most appalling betrayal of what women are supposed to be like. We're supposed to nourish and put in front of people food that brings life to them. This story is an inversion.
Chloe:...I admit, though, that every time somebody mentions beef Wellington, I hear a little bell of absurdity ring. It's such a flamboyantly retro dish. ... When I admitted this bell-ring to Sarah, she put me right beautifully. The reason this story is so compelling is that it has everything in it that's human, including absurdity.