Essential New Zealand literature, just like PLUMB. It's fascinating how the patriarch, who loomed so largely over all in the first person in PLUMB, is a peripheral figure here, forever shaking his head and disappearing to his study -- not that he isn't loved by Meg, who does her best to find the good in just about everyone, not because of any need to twist the world into shape but just because she's happiest accepting what is. Her husband falls towards temptation, so she pushes him out the door with her amused blessing. Her rotten sister belittles her at every opportunity, so she pockets the slights and pities her. A family member is murdered in cold blood, and she sees the perpetrators as lost children in need of salvation from a society that's more interested in sweeping the whole thing under the rug. You see it even more in the way her benighted brothers Robert and Alfred trust and cherish her: she gets them, and she doesn't judge, unlike her father. It's a fractured narrative, jumping back and forth in time and switching focus from one character to the next at the expense of any overarching plot, just like real life.