Review: The Husband’s Secret

Yet another day, yet another #LianeMoriarty novel. I have got to lay these off for a while because, frankly, the Aussie ensemble cast has begun to melt into one another across novels at this point. 
That said, The Husband’s Secret, possibly the most famous of Moriarty’s novels after Big Little Lies, holds it’s place of pride for good reason. The aforementioned secret lies trapped in a letter, equated in the novel with Pandora’s Box, which makes its first appearance on literally the first page of the first chapter. At some point, much like Pandora’s Box, the secret’s power is unleashed. Till this point, the flow of the story is rather predictable. As always, though, the fun of a Moriarty novel is in its characters – some aspect of all of whose personalities I found myself relating to – and in its brilliant climax that leaves you turning pages helplessly.
The Husband’s Secret is also different from the other two Moriarty stories I’ve come across so far in that it’s male characters are also fairly well-etched and not just seen from that criminal female gaze, wink wink nudge nudge.

I swear I’d call this book literally unputdownable too, if I wasn’t obsessive about sorting my literallys and my figurativelys into two separate piles. I would, however, say this much – do not pick up this novel on a school night. Curl up with it on a Friday or Saturday night for whiling away the next day in a way that is not injurious to a state of full-time employment.


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