Book 9: Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty

 (This book has been converted into a Netflix series starring Reese Witherspoon and Nicole Kidman - two people I think who can do no wrong on celluloid. I haven't seen the series so my take on the book is independent of how I may have reacted to the series.)

There's a charming suburb in Sydney. The charming school has a sweet little public school. It is peopled with strange, yet regular parents with regular parent overlording dynamics. One day there's a strange bullying incident among children. Then one other day, there's a murder.

By the end of chapter 2, I had guessed who had committed the murder. By chapter 4, I had figured out why. But I still read the book because the world building in this novel was so pretty and well-designed to camouflage pain. Like a rip in a perfect postcard.

The book begins with us getting acquainted with a group of women whose children study in the public school. One of the parents is a young, single mother. One of the others is a scatterbrained but benign chatterbox. Yet another is a glacial, gorgeous beauty who is always proper. They all lead different types of lives in scenic places. There are very charming descriptions of a café by the ocean, bike rides and walks by the beach, and beautiful homes and aesthetically messy kitchens. The writing is, well, competent but not too much more. I am not sure if the plot and writing got diluted because of publishing demands or because it had to cater to a larger group of people. The Western stereotype of a vegan, yoga-teacher is very much in place. There are clichés and obvious turns of phrases. I have read the book on a treadmill, in an auto, in a bus, and in the train - so maybe that's how the material was set up to be consumed. And for a thriller, the book ended on a rather insipid note..

Still, where the book scores high is the way it has shown how women architect shame in their bodies as their bodies. Some are too good-looking to be taken seriously. Some are not good-looking enough so they have to accept abuse as something they have asked for (because decency and dignity are only the prerogative of the visually pleasing). Although much of the plot, characterization, and narrative has an oatmealy-ish appeal, it is this little sliver of profile of pain that stays with you.

And it does make one sad - this question that as women, do we only connect when we are in a sorority of shame?