My reading is largely dictated by what I find in a bin at a local secondhand shop where there is a four-books-for-a-pound offer, (what I find that I think might be interesting I suppose I should say, for strict accuracy). "A masterful portrayal of a woman trapped in a web of self-perpetuating emotional triangles, of suicide and, most courageously, of psychic incest" is the description Faber and Faber, in its wisdom, placed on the back cover of this novel, presumably on the assumption that this was bound to entice readers to buy.
Ugh. Luckily, I didn't read that blurb before I handed over my money. Instead, I flicked through the book's pages and saw that it is partly set in Sydney. I used to live in Sydney and love descriptions of it in fiction. Therefore, that was enough for me.
How fortunate. The book is exceptional, brief and beautifully written - and nothing like that back cover explanation. The main character is a person whose life is overshadowed by the wounds inflicted by emotionally irresponsible, thoughtless parents. Meredith Daneman evokes beautifully what it is like to try to construct a life on foundations that are fragile, where a memory of being unconditionally loved and cared for is missing.
If this makes the book sound precious, I promise it isn't. It is psychologically perceptive, vivid and entertaining, and I was glued. I am going to search out any other writing Daneman may have produced. On the evidence of this book, she is a superb writer.
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