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Big Little Lies [Format Kindle]

Liane Moriarty
4.7 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (3 commentaires client)

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Extrait

***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected proof*** 

 Copyright © 2014 by Liane Moriarty 

Chapter 1

“That doesn’t sound like a school trivia night,” said Mrs. Patty

Ponder to Marie Antoinette. “That sounds like a riot.”

The cat didn’t respond. She was dozing on the couch and found school trivia nights to be trivial.

“Not interested, eh? Let them eat cake! Is that what you’re thinking? They do eat a lot of cake, don’t they? All those cake stalls. Goodness me. Although I don’t think any of the mothers ever actually eat them. They’re all so sleek and skinny, aren’t they? Like you.”

Marie Antoinette sneered at the compliment. The “let them eat cake” thing had grown old a long time ago, and she’d recently heard one of Mrs. Ponder’s grandchildren say it was meant to be “let them eat brioche” and also that Marie Antoinette never said it in the first place.

Mrs. Ponder picked up her television remote and turned down the volume onDancing with the Stars. She’d turned it up loud earlier because of the sound of the heavy rain, but the rain had eased now.

She could hear people shouting. Angry hollers crashed through the quiet, cold night air. It was somehow hurtful for Mrs. Ponder to hear, as if all that rage were directed at her. (Mrs. Ponder had grown up with an angry mother.)

“Goodness me. Do you think they’re arguing over the capital of Guatemala? Do you know the capital of Guatemala? No? I don’t either. We should Google it. Don’t sneer at me.”

Marie Antoinette sniffed.

“Let’s go see what’s going on,” said Mrs. Ponder briskly. She was feeling nervous and therefore behaving briskly in front of the cat, the same way she’d once done with her children when her husband was away and there were strange noises in the night.

Mrs. Ponder heaved herself up with the help of her walker. Marie Antoinette slid her slippery body comfortingly in between Mrs. Ponder’s legs (she wasn’t falling for the brisk act) as she pushed the walker down the hallway to the back of the house.

Her sewing room looked straight out onto the school yard of Pirriwee Public.

“Mum, are you mad? You can’t live this close to a primary school,” her daughter had said when she was first looking at buying the house.

But Mrs. Ponder loved to hear the crazy babble of children’s voices at intervals throughout the day, and she no longer drove, so she couldn’t care less that the street was jammed with those giant, truck-like cars they all drove these days, with women in big sunglasses leaning across their steering wheels to call out terribly urgent information about Harriett’s ballet and Charlie’s speech therapy.

Mothers took their mothering so seriously now. Their frantic little faces. Their busy little bottoms strutting into the school in their tight gym gear. Ponytails swinging. Eyes fixed on the mobile phones held in the palms of their hands like compasses. It made Mrs. Ponder laugh. Fondly, though. Her three daughters were exactly the same. And they were all so pretty.

“How are you this morning?” she always called out if she was on the front porch with a cup of tea or watering the front garden as they went by.

“Busy, Mrs. Ponder! Frantic!” they always called back, trotting along, yanking their children’s arms. They were pleasant and friendly and just a touch condescending because they couldn’t help it. She was so old! They were so busy!

The fathers, and there were more and more of them doing the school run these days, were different. They rarely hurried, strolling past with a measured casualness. No big deal. All under control. That was the message. Mrs. Ponder chuckled fondly at them too.

But now it seemed the Pirriwee Public parents were misbehaving. She got to the window and pushed aside the lace curtain. The school had recently paid for a window guard after a Year 3 boy’s cricket ball had smashed the glass and nearly knocked out Marie Antoinette. (A group of them had given her a hand-painted apology card, which she kept on her fridge.)

There was a two-story sandstone building on the other side of the playground with an event room on the second level and a big balcony with ocean views. Mrs. Ponder had been there for a few functions: a talk by a local historian, a lunch hosted by the Friends of the Library. It was quite a beautiful room. Sometimes ex-students had their wedding receptions there. That’s where they’d be having the school trivia night. They were raising funds for SMART Boards, whatever they were. Mrs. Ponder had been invited as a matter of course. Her proximity to the school gave her a funny sort of honorary status, even though she’d never had a child or grandchild attend. She’d said no thank you to the school trivia night invitation. She thought school events without the children in attendance were pointless.

The children had their weekly school assembly in the same room. Each Friday morning, Mrs. Ponder set herself up in the sewing room with a cup of English Breakfast and a ginger-nut biscuit. The sound of the children singing floating down from the second floor of the building always made her weep. She’d never believed in God, except when she heard children singing.

There was no childish singing now.

Mrs. Ponder could hear a lot of bad language. She wasn’t a prude about bad language—her eldest daughter swore like a trooper—but it was upsetting and disconcerting to hear someone maniacally screaming that particular four-letter word in a place that was normally filled with childish laughter and shouts.

“Are you all drunk?” she said.

Her rain-splattered window was at eye level with the entrance doors to the building, and suddenly people began to spill out. Security lights illuminated the paved area around the entrance like a stage set for a play. Clouds of mist added to the effect.

It was a strange sight.

The parents at Pirriwee Public had a baffling fondness for costume parties. It wasn’t enough that they should have an ordinary trivia night; she knew from the invitation that some bright spark had decided to make it an “Audrey and Elvis” trivia night, which meant that the women all had to dress up as Audrey Hepburn and the men had to dress up as Elvis Presley. (That was another reason Mrs. Ponder had turned down the invitation. She’d always abhorred costume parties.) It seemed that the most popular rendition of Audrey Hepburn was the Breakfast at Tiffany’s look. All the women were wearing long black dresses, white gloves and pearl chokers. Meanwhile, the men had mostly chosen to pay tribute to the Elvis of the latter years. They were all wearing shiny white jumpsuits, glittery gemstones and plunging necklines. The women looked lovely. The poor men looked perfectly ridiculous.

As Mrs. Ponder watched, one Elvis punched another across the jaw. He staggered back into an Audrey. Two Elvises grabbed him from behind and pulled him away. An Audrey buried her face in her hands and turned away, as though she couldn’t bear to watch. Someone shouted, “STOP THIS!”

Indeed. What would your beautiful children think?

“Should I call the police?” wondered Mrs. Ponder out loud, but then she heard the wail of a siren in the distance, at the same time as a woman on the balcony began to scream and scream.

Gabrielle: It wasn’t like it was just the mothers, you know.

It wouldn’t have happened without the dads. I guess it started with the mothers. We were the main players, so to speak. The mums. I can’t stand the word “mum.” It’s a frumpy word, don’t you think? “Mom” is better. With an o. It sounds skinnier. We should change to the American spelling. I have body image issues, by the way. Who doesn’t, right?

Bonnie: It was all just a terrible misunderstanding. People’s feelings got hurt, and then everything just spiraled out of control. The way it does. All conflict can be traced back to someone’s feelings getting hurt, don’t you think? Divorce. World wars. Legal action. Well, maybe not every legal action. Can I offer you an herbal tea?

Stu: I’ll tell you exactly why it happened: Women don’t let things go. Not saying the blokes don’t share part of the blame. But if the girls hadn’t gotten their knickers in a knot . . . And that might sound sexist, but it’s not, it’s just a fact of life. Ask any man—not some new-age, artsy- fartsy, I-wear-moisturizer type, I mean a real man—ask a real man, then he’ll tell you that women are like the Olympic athletes of grudges. You should see my wife in action. And she’s not even the worst of them.

Miss Barnes: Helicopter parents. Before I started at Pirriwee Public, I thought it was an exaggeration, this thing about parents being overly involved with their kids. I mean, my mum and dad loved me, they were, like, interested in me when I was growing up in the nineties, but they weren’t, like, obsessed with me.

Mrs. Lipmann: It’s a tragedy, and deeply regrettable, and we’re all trying to move forward. I have no further comment.

Carol: I blame the Erotic Book Club. But that’s just me.

Jonathan: There was nothing erotic about the Erotic Book

Club, I’ll tell you that for free.

Jackie: You know what? I see this as a feminist issue.

Harper: Who said it was a feminist issue? What the heck? I tell you what started it: the incident at the kindergarten orientation day.

Graeme: My understanding was that it all goes back to the stay-at-home mums battling it out with the career mums. What do they call it? The Mummy Wars. My wife wasn’t involved. She doesn’t have time for that sort of thing.

Thea: You journalists are just loving the French nanny angle. I heard someone on the radio today talking about the “French maid,” which Juliette was certainly not. Renata had a housekeeper as well. Lucky for some. I have four children, and no staff to help out! Of course, I don’t have a problem per se with working mothers, I just wonder why they bothered having children in the first place.

Melissa: You know what I think got everyone all hot and bothered? The head lice. Oh my gosh, don’t let me get started on the head lice.

Samantha: The head lice? What did that have to do with anything? Who told you that? I bet it was Melissa, right? That poor girl suffered post-traumatic stress disorder after her kids kept getting reinfected. Sorry. It’s not funny. It’s not funny at all.

Detective-Sergeant Adrian Quinlan: Let me be clear: This is not a circus. This is a murder investigation.

 

Chapter 2

SIX MONTHS BEFORE THE TRIVIA NIGHT

Forty. Madeline Martha Mackenzie was forty years old today.

“I am forty,” she said out loud as she drove. She drew the word out in slow motion, like a sound effect. “Fooorty.”

She caught the eye of her daughter in the rearview mirror. Chloe grinned and imitated her mother. “I am five. Fiiiive.”

“Forty!” trilled Madeline like an opera singer. “Tra la la la!” “Five!” trilled Chloe.

Madeline tried a rap version, beating out the rhythm on the steering wheel. “I’m forty, yeah, forty—”

“That’s enough now, Mummy,” said Chloe firmly. “Sorry,” said Madeline.

She was taking Chloe to her “Kindergarten—Let’s Get Kindy Ready!—Orientation.” Not that Chloe required any orientation before starting school next January. She was already very firmly oriented at Pirriwee Public. At this morning’s drop- off Chloe had been busy taking charge of her brother, Fred, who was two years older but often seemed younger. “Fred, you forgot to put your book bag in the basket! That’s it. In there. Good boy.”

Fred had obediently dropped his book bag in the appropriate basket before running off to put Jackson in a headlock. Madeline had pretended not to see the headlock. Jackson probably deserved it. Jackson’s mother, Renata, hadn’t seen it either, because she was deep in conversation with Harper, both of them frowning earnestly over the stress of educating their gifted children. Renata and Harper attended the same weekly support group for parents of gifted children. Madeline imagined them all sitting in a circle, wringing their hands while their eyes shone with secret pride.

While Chloe was busy bossing the other children around at orientation (her gift was bossiness, she was going to run a corporation one day), Madeline was going to have coffee and cake with her friend Celeste. Celeste’s twin boys were starting school next year too, so they’d be running amuck at orientation. (Their gift was shouting. Madeline had a headache after five minutes in their company.) Celeste always bought exquisite and very expensive birthday presents, so that would be nice. After that, Madeline was going to drop Chloe off with her mother-in- law, and then have lunch with some friends before they all rushed off for school pickup. The sun was shining. She was wearing her gorgeous new Dolce and Gabbana stilettos (bought online, thirty percent off). It was going to be a lovely, lovely day. “Let the Festival of Madeline begin!” her husband, Ed, had said this morning when he brought her coffee in bed. Madeline was famous for her fondness of birthdays and celebrations of all kinds. Any excuse for champagne.

Still. Forty.

As she drove the familiar route to the school, she considered her magnificent new age. Forty. She could still feel “forty” the way it felt when she was fifteen. Such a colorless age. Marooned in the middle of your life. Nothing would matter all that much when you were forty. You wouldn’t have real feelings when you were forty, because you’d be safely cushioned by your frumpy forty-ness.

Forty-year-old woman found dead. Oh dear.

Twenty-year-old woman found dead. Tragedy! Sadness! Find that murderer!

Madeline always had to do a minor shift in her head when she heard something on the news about a woman dying in her forties. But, wait, that could be me! That would be sad! People would be sad if I was dead! Devastated, even. So there, age- obsessed world. I might be forty, but I am cherished.

On the other hand, it was probably perfectly natural to feel sadder over the death of a twenty-year-old than a forty-year-old. The forty-year-old had enjoyed twenty years more of life. That’s why, if there were a gunman on the loose, Madeline would feel obligated to throw her middle-aged self in front of the twenty- year-old. Take a bullet for youth. It was only fair.

Well, she would if she could be sure it was a nice young person. Not one of those insufferable ones, like the child driving the little blue Mitsubishi in front of Madeline. She wasn’t even bothering to hide the fact that she was using her mobile phone while she drove, probably texting or updating her Facebook status.

See! This kid wouldn’t have even noticed the loose gunman! She would have been staring vacantly at her phone, while Madeline sacrificed her life for her! It was infuriating.

The little car appeared to be jammed with young people. At least three in the back, their heads bobbing about, hands gesticulating. Was that somebody’s foot waving about? It was a tragedy waiting to happen. They all needed to concentrate. Just last week, Madeline had been having a quick coffee after her ShockWave class and reading a story in the paper about how all the young people were killing themselves sending texts while they drove. On my way. Nearly there!These were their last foolish (and often misspelled) words. Madeline had cried over the picture of one teenager’s grief-stricken mother, absurdly holding up her daughter’s mobile phone to the camera as a warning to readers.

“Silly little idiots,” she said out loud as the car weaved dangerously into the next lane.

“Who is an idiot?” said her daughter from the backseat.

“The girl driving the car in front of me is an idiot because she’s driving her car and using her phone at the same time,” said Madeline.

“Like when you need to call Daddy when we’re running late?” said Chloe.

“I only did that one time!” protested Madeline. “And I was very careful and very quick! And I’m forty years old!”

“Today,” said Chloe knowledgeably. “You’re forty years old today.”

“Yes! Also, I made a quick call, I didn’t send a text! You have to take your eyes off the road to text. Texting while driving is illegal and naughty, and you must promise to never ever do it when you’re a teenager.”

Her voice quivered at the thought of Chloe being a teenager and driving a car.

“But you’re allowed to make a quick phone call?” checked

Chloe.

“No! That’s illegal too,” said Madeline.

“So that means you broke the law,” said Chloe with satisfaction. “Like a robber.”

Chloe was currently in love with the idea of robbers. She was definitely going to date bad boys one day. Bad boys on motorcycles.

“Stick with the nice boys, Chloe!” said Madeline after a moment. “Like Daddy. Bad boys don’t bring you coffee in bed, I’ll tell you that for free.”

“What are you babbling on about, woman?” sighed Chloe. She’d picked this phrase up from her father and imitated his weary tone perfectly. They’d made the mistake of laughing the first time she did it, so she’d kept it up, and said it just often enough, and with perfect timing, so that they couldn’t help but keep laughing.

This time Madeline managed not to laugh. Chloe currently trod a very fine line between adorable and obnoxious. Madeline probably trod the same line herself.

Madeline pulled up behind the little blue Mitsubishi at a red light. The young driver was still looking at her mobile phone. Madeline banged on her car horn. She saw the driver look in her rearview mirror, while all her passengers craned around to look.

“Put down your phone!” she yelled. She mimicked texting by jabbing her finger in her palm. “It’s illegal! It’s dangerous!”

The girl stuck her finger up in the classic up-yours gesture.

“Right!” Madeline pulled on her emergency brake and put on her hazard lights.

“What are you doing?” said Chloe.

Madeline undid her seat belt and threw open the car door. “But we’ve got to go to orientation!” said Chloe in a panic.

“We’ll be late! Oh, calamity!”

“Oh, calamity” was a line from a children’s book that they used to read to Fred when he was little. The whole family said it now. Even Madeline’s parents had picked it up, and some of Madeline’s friends. It was a very contagious phrase.

“It’s all right,” said Madeline. “This will only take a second. I’m saving young lives.”

She stalked up to the girl’s car on her new stilettos and banged on the window.

The window slid down, and the driver metamorphosed from a shadowy silhouette into a real young girl with white skin, sparkly nose ring and badly applied, clumpy mascara. She looked up at Madeline with a mixture of aggression and fear. “What is your problem?” Her mobile phone was still held casually in her left hand.

“Put down that phone! You could kill yourself and your friends!” Madeline used the exact same tone she used on Chloe when she was being extremely naughty. She reached in the car, grabbed the phone and tossed it to the openmouthed girl in the passenger seat. “OK? Just stop it!”

She could hear their gales of laughter as she walked back to the car. She didn’t care. She felt pleasantly stimulated. A car pulled up behind hers. Madeline smiled, lifted her hand apologetically and hurried back to be in her car before the lights changed.

Her ankle turned. One second it was doing what an ankle was meant to do, and the next it was flipping out at a sickeningly wrong angle. She fell heavily on one side. Oh, calamity.

That was almost certainly the moment the story began. With the ungainly flip of an ankle.

Revue de presse

This is such a clever idea. This is powerful, moving and gripping stuff (Star Magazine on The Husband's Secret)

The Husband's Secret is a staggeringly brilliant novel. It is literally unputdownable (Sophie Hannah on The Husband's Secret)

The writing is beautiful: sometimes funny, sometimes sad but always compelling (Good Housekeeping)

Dark and compelling, this is a must read (The Sun on The Husband's Secret)

Absolutely brilliant, even better than The Husband's Secret. Loved it. Liane Moriarty has that rare Anne Tyler thing of being able to make fun of people while clearly having compassion for them. (Louise Candlish, Sunday Times bestselling author of SINCE I DON'T HAVE YOU)

The author of last year's bestseller, The Husband's Secret, is back with another sure-fire hit. Unputdownable (The Sun on Sunday)

It's not often that a book about murder mingled with domestic and sexual violence has you howling with laughter, but Moriarty pulls it off here ... Her ironic turn of phrases infuses even poignant moments with humour. Blending romance, comedy and mystery, this is a wonderful book - full of brains, guts and heart (The Sunday Mirror)

It all reads terrifyingly real, with the viciousness of the women at the school gates and the hell they can make each others' lives. It's a fine book (The Sunday Sport)

Moriarty is happy to thread a thin line between mummy lit and fluffy thriller. It's easy to get stuck into this book, thanks to neat plotting that keeps you guessing. Just dive right in because this book slips down as easily as a strawberry soufflé (Irish Independent)

A brilliantly plotted story with characters to care for who kept me reading, utterly gripped (Woman and Home Magazine)

Here at Company HQ we're all obsessed with Little Lies by Liane Moriarty. This juicy seaside-town murder mystery will be one of the biggest books this autumn (Company Magazine)

This fantastically written story, with its little clues casually dropped in along the way, will keep you guessing until the very end ... Another compelling, funny and thought-provoking winner from Liane Moriarty. Do whatever you can to get your hands on a copy - it's brilliant (Heat Magazine)

Take this page-turner on holiday with you - you won't be able to put it down! (Closer Magazine)

A twisted thriller (Now Magazine)

Another riveting thriller. Tackling difficult subjects with intelligence and humanity (Hello Magazine)

A compelling summer read not to be missed (OK Magazine)

This addictive new thriller from bestselling author Liane Moriarty weaves three stories together to a shocking and unpredictable climax (Take A Break Magazine)

Détails sur le produit

  • Format : Format Kindle
  • Taille du fichier : 1426 KB
  • Nombre de pages de l'édition imprimée : 460 pages
  • Editeur : Penguin (31 juillet 2014)
  • Vendu par : Amazon Media EU S.à r.l.
  • Langue : Anglais
  • ASIN: B00K8J3VCC
  • Synthèse vocale : Activée
  • X-Ray :
  • Word Wise: Activé
  • Composition améliorée: Activé
  • Moyenne des commentaires client : 4.7 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (3 commentaires client)
  • Classement des meilleures ventes d'Amazon: n°5.061 dans la Boutique Kindle (Voir le Top 100 dans la Boutique Kindle)
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1 internautes sur 1 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Pas déçue 11 septembre 2014
Format:Relié
Après avoir lu "The Husband's secret" j'avais des grosses attentes du nouveau livre de Liane Moriarty et je n'ai pas été déçue. Encore une fois, une histoire des femmes complexes aux vies ordinaires. La construction des personnages est très riche, on les aime ou on ne les aime pas mais on les comprend. Le livre traite des sujets sérieux comme la violence, la famille, les relations sociales le tout à la fois avec de l'humour et conscience. Les personnages principales, Jane, Madeleine, Celeste sont des femmes qui ont été blessées et qui ont chacune sa façon de faire face aux difficultés, mais soudées par l’amitié et la solidarité. La narration est bien équilibrée et l’histoire bien menée. On sait très vite que les faits racontés vont nous amener à une tragédie. C’est pas vraiment un mystère ou un fin surprise mais ça a suffit pour moi pour me rendre accro au livre ! Je l’ai lu très vite car je ne pouvais pas le lâcher, maintenant je suis triste que ça soit fini.
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4.0 étoiles sur 5 A very entertaining page-turner! 27 février 2015
Format:Format Kindle|Achat vérifié
"Little Lies" takes place in a pretty coastal town near Sidney, among a small community of parents who have their children in the same kindergarten class, in a public school by the sea. People are nice to each other and well-behaved, they have coffees and cupcakes at “Blue Blues”, they run or walk on the beach. The mothers either stay at home or work part-time, sometimes they even have a career. The fathers bond at social events talking about golf…

On trivia night, a murder occurs on the school grounds. We don’t know who was killed, and who did the deed. Liane Moriarty narrates the months leading to the fateful event, from the point of view of several characters, as well as from snippets from police reports and gossips. It all starts with a new single mum, Jane, whose son has been accused of bullying by a little girl from his class…

The characters are well drawn, flawed, sometimes hilarious, and mostly sympathetic: Renata, the mother of a gifted child, one of the “blond bobs” who think they are in charge of the school, Jane, the insecure young mother with a difficult past, Celeste, the stunning and wealthy woman who hides a painful secret, and Madeline, the one who has to deal with heartbreak and jealousy as her elder daughter announces she prefers to live with her father and his new wife, a vegetarian yogini.
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5.0 étoiles sur 5 Beaucoup de plaisir 27 août 2015
Format:Format Kindle|Achat vérifié
Je suis complétement fan des livres de Liane Moriarty. Depuis le début de l'été j'ai lu tout ce qu'elle a écrit et je regrette d'être arrivée au dernier livre.
Ces histoires contemporaines me changent de tous ces romans qui se situent au XXème siècle. Enfin des histoires qui se passent MAINTENANT.
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Amazon.com: 4.5 étoiles sur 5  10.090 commentaires
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5.0 étoiles sur 5 "Oh calamity" the book of the summer 4 juillet 2014
Par Nitty's Mom - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Relié|Commentaire client Vine pour produit gratuit (De quoi s'agit-il?)
The Hypnotist's Love Story was good, the Husband's Secret was better, but Big Little Lies is the best. I was captivated from the first page, as I waited to figure out the mystery as to what was going to happen to these amazing characters on Trivia Night. The book is told by multiple voices, particularly Madeline, Celeste and Jane, each one had a distinct voice and a point of view that felt familiar, yet in this author's competent hands totally unique.

Madeline Martha Mackenzie is a 40 year old throw-back to the screw ball comedies. She has the mouth, the wardrobe and her heart is in the right place when not suffering from her monthly PMS. She lives in the same town with her ex-husband, Nathan and his yoga chanting, euphorically perfect second wife, Bonnie. Nathan left Madeline and their newborn infant 14 years ago, and while Madeline has re-married a wonderful man and has two children with him, it still hurts that their 14 year old daughter now wants to live with her ex and his wife.

It would seem that Celeste has it all. She is a beautiful woman, married to a very wealthy man, Perry, and has two adorable twin boys attending Pirriwee Public School. What looks to be a perfect relationship to others, can become toxic when the couple is behind closed doors. This is a fact that is finally becoming glaringly clear, even to Celeste.

Jane is a single mother raising her five year old boy, Ziggy, with the help of her mother and father, who live near by. She has just moved to the Pirriwee Peninsula, after taking leases in different apartments across Sydney, hoping to finally find a "life that worked". Once an outgoing career oriented 19 year old, she bears the scars of a disastrous sexual encounter.

As serendipitously as it was meant to happen, on her way to kindergarten orientation, Jane stops to help a slightly injured Madeline after a fender bender. Having their children in the same kindergarten class is the impetus that brings Celeste, Madeline and Jane together. While all three woman are experiencing troubles, some certainly more serious than the others, they are drawn together and stick together. Jane has a real support system from her new friends, when Ziggy is accused of bullying a female kindergarten classmate of a high powered attorney. When a petition is circulated to try and have Ziggy suspended from the school, it divides the parents of Pirriwee Public school into two factions.

This is chick literature with a sting, that is both funny, intelligent and ultimately moving. There is simply so much to recommended about this book, written by an author who has proven herself incapable of creating a one dimensional character or a boring plot. The characterizations are perfect, the Australian setting idyllic, the pacing perfect as there is not one unnecessary page, the character's interconnections realistic and touching.. The story is full of clever dialogue and laugh out loud moments, while never losing sight that the subject matter is at times complex. I have to admit I did not like the ending of The Husband's Wife, this time all the subplots converge at the right time and place, giving the narration a most satisfying ending. Big Little Lies is filled with sharp observations about domestic abuse, bullying, second marriages, self-esteem, parenting, friendship and second chances. "Oh calamity" what an enjoyable book. Very Highly Recommended.
199 internautes sur 214 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 "Never forgive. Never forget. That's my motto." 6 juillet 2014
Par E. Bukowsky - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Relié|Commentaire client Vine pour produit gratuit (De quoi s'agit-il?)
Liane Moriarty's latest work of seriocomic fiction, "Big Little Lies," focuses on the conflicts, secrets, and betrayals that poison relationships between husbands and wives, parents and children, and friends and neighbors. The novel is set in Australia and centers around a tragedy that occurred during a trivia night in the local elementary school. The suspense arises from the fact that, at first, we do not know exactly what happened. Via flashbacks, witness statements, and inflammatory bits of gossip, a picture emerges of a town divided into haves and have-nots.

The author cleverly satirizes working mothers who boast about their ability to juggle their careers and home lives, and also pokes fun at affluent moms who lord it over their "inferiors." There are several standouts among the large cast: Forty-year old Madeline Mackenzie is good-hearted and outspoken when she perceives any sort of injustice. Two other women tug at our heartstrings: Twenty-four year old Jane Chapman is a single mum, whose five-year-old boy, Ziggy, is accused of bullying. The gorgeous Celeste White is married to a rich and handsome man, but her chums do not realize that her personal life is far from idyllic.

As Moriarty digs beneath the surface of each individual's façade, she demonstrates that what appear to be harmless lies can inflict a great deal of damage, especially when the falsehoods conceal ugly truths. So much grief might be avoided if people would be more honest with themselves and others. Along with her exploration of timely themes, Moriarty entertains us with sparkling dialogue, sharp humor, and a gripping mystery. "Big Little Lies" is a page-turner that will undoubtedly attract a large and appreciative audience.
109 internautes sur 122 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
4.0 étoiles sur 5 Engrossing, Smart, & Topical Mystery 4 juillet 2014
Par E. Griffin - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Relié|Commentaire client Vine pour produit gratuit (De quoi s'agit-il?)
At first, Big Little Lies gently engages the reader's interest only to suddenly evolve into a captivating story, holding the reader's attention until the end.

Pirriwee Public is, in many ways, its own little world. The children are well cared for, their academic progress and creativity encouraged to flourish. The parents are mostly middle class, albeit across the income spectrum, and highly engaged in their children's lives--in fact, sometimes too engaged, hovering over their children and becoming involved in every perceived slight or risk.

A young single mom, Jane, moves to town, enrolling her young son at Pirriwee Public,and gets off to a bad start when one of the influential mothers mistakes Jane for a nanny. However Madeline, one of the more irreverent and confident mothers, strikes up a friendship with Jane. Soon, Madeline introduces Jane around time, and Jane is even included in a friendship with Celeste, whose twin sons attend Pirriwee Public.

When Jane's son is accused of bullying before school even formally begins, schisms and battle lines rapidly appear between the mothers that rule the school, the new mom and her friends, and other parents. The story raises questions about how involved parents should be in the school lives of their children, and the fine line between ensuring your child is safe and helping them become independent and able to face adversity.

Big Little Lies unfolds from the perspective of each of the three primary characters, exploring their personal thoughts and lives as well as their child's school lives. Through a series of questions excerpted from police interviews and included in each chapter, the reader knows from almost the beginning that a tragedy has occurred to one of the parents. Which parent, and how the tragedy occurs, isn't clear until a stunning development at nearly the end of the book.

Having read The Husband's Secret, I was eager to read Big Little Lies. Although I enjoyed The Husband's Secret, I didn't think it lived up to all of its stellar reviews. Big Little Lies, however, is a better book that will have wide appeal not only to fans of Liane Moriarty, but readers of women's fiction, mysteries, and almost anyone that wants to lose themselves in a engrossing story for an afternoon.
62 internautes sur 77 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
3.0 étoiles sur 5 A good read but not as good as others she has written 6 août 2014
Par booklover343 - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Relié|Achat vérifié
Some of Moriarty's other novels are MUCH better than this one. But there are many good things about this book.

It does take on very important topics (domestic abuse and bullying) and tells the story of a single mother (Jane) who along with her son Ziggy moves to a seaside town supposedly on a whim (though you will learn later that there is more to why she chose that town...a clever plot turn on the author's part). She is very young (24) and has difficulties when she registers her son for kindergarten. The other mothers assume she is a nanny because she is so young.

For years, Jane has refused to identify Ziggy's father or the circumstances around her son's conception. She eventually reveals the ugly and life-altering story to some of her new friends. But about half way through the book I guessed what the outcome would be concerning the father.

I found all the drama at the school and with the very high maintenance mothers of the other children to be a bit tedious. The "camps" seemed to be divided between Jane's friends (who were for the most part rational) and the other mothers (who were mostly caricatures of the over-involved mom....too involved, too quick to judge, too critical. A little more "grey" and not so much black and white would have helped.

I'd much more quickly recommend Moriarty's The Hypnotist's Love Story and The Husband's Secret. Both of those books seem to be more tightly written and were novels I lost myself in right away.

I'd also like to send out a request that publishers do a much better job of proofing their work. I've noticed recently that I find lots of typos in books. This one had several....the word "remembered" misspelled, "had" written as ha'd, etc. Really needs to be improved.
20 internautes sur 23 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Entertaining and compelling read. 13 août 2014
Par LindyLouMac - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Relié
Although you know right from the opening paragraphs that something dreadful has happened in Pirriwee, this compelling story keeps you guessing. Tragic yet hilarious, so much more than a murder mystery this novel kept me reading well into the night, as I kept telling myself just one more chapter!

The protagonists Jane, Maddie and Celeste are all mothers of children at Pirriwee Public School, all very different but drawn together by events at school. Jane is the single parent, new to the area, with nothing to say about her son's father. Celeste is the happily married one, also wealthy and beautiful, the envy of all the other Mums. Maddie or Madeleine is the lively one, having problems with her teenage daughter from a previous marriage. The scene is set, disaster has struck, but to find out exactly what the author takes us back to the start of the school year to tell us the whole story. The characters and their relationships are all very realistic and sadly totally believable. I say sadly as these are everyday situations that readers are going to be familiar with. Nobody's life is quite as it seems and as we are taken behind the scenes of the characters relationships with their partners and families one is pulled into the complicated webs of deceit. Bullying both mental and physical is a sad fact of life, the added drama is that all through the book you know the result is catastrophic but you do not know exactly what happened until the very end!

In conclusion an entertaining and compelling read, which gains pace as the dreadful facts emerge. Another good choice for book clubs as the story raises plenty of subjects for discussion. Fans of Sophie Hannah and Jojo Moyes will probably find they like Liane Moriarty's writing.
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