Oops. I accidentally read five novels in two weeks. (Maybe not a big deal for some of y’all, but as a busy SAHM, I have no business staying up late binge-reading as much as I’ve been doing lately; I’m actually physically ill, right now, as I’m writing this.) This always happens to me when I discover an author that I really like. I think I might need to slow down… Anyway, here are my thoughts:

The Soulmate. Devoured this one over the course of two days while on a beach vacation. So freaking fun. Loved it even more than The Family Next Door. Why?: because it immerses you even more deeply in the characters and fleshes them out more, focusing on just two couples instead of a whole neighborhood. I also love the way it jumps back and forth in time, circling around the hub of a single event. Very romantic, very delicious, highly suspenseful. Once again, beautiful setting, senually delightful, & great fun spending time in the world of Australia’s ultra-rich. Gabe is fascinating and splendidly-written imo, but Max is the best character by far; what a great twist at the end. I now begin to get a sense for the type of story that Sally Hepworth dwells upon, the motifs that repeat over and over in her mind. (Every writer has them; it’s almost like every writer really has just one story they long to tell.) One of hers is apparently raspberry-white chocolate muffins. I’m now wondering if they’ll make an appearance in every one of her novels. Let’s find out.

The Mother-In-Law. No raspberry-white chocolate muffins in this one! Bummer, I was kinda hoping that’d be a thing. Oh well. This one lost a few points for me due to its unfortunate portrayal of Catholicism. “Diana grew up in a Catholic family 😨,” is something we hear repeated over and over, with horror, as if it’s some kind of explanation for why her parents were so judgmental and cruel and cut her off. Those bad, evil Catholics!! What a shame, because philosophically Sally Hepworth gets a lot of things right in this book — it’s a very pro-life story, really; Diana chooses life in extremely difficult circumstances, things work out, and she devotes her adult life to helping expectant mothers in difficult circumstances. Voluntary euthanasia is considered, but ultimately depicted as unwise and tragic. Same with surrogacy and IVF: Lucy, the hero of the story, is very opposed to surrogacy and egg donation, and I wanted to cheer for her for standing her ground there. The author tells us about the ridiculous toll that reproductive technology takes on people’s lives and sanity; it’s cast in a very negative light. (Poor Nettie; TTC-induced insanity is a very real thing, and I felt for her.) I was pleased about that. If only Ms. Hepworth didn’t treat the word “Catholic” as some kind of insult. Diana might be my favorite of her characters yet.

The Good Sister. Not proud of how quickly I finished this one. 🙈 I’m beginning to see why I stopped reading. When I get into a book, my addict brain takes over. “Just a little more! Can’t stop now!” While the dishes are rotting in the sink and there’s craft supplies all over the floor and painty finger-smears on the table and walls. A few weeks into this Rediscovering Reading endeavor, I think I might actually need to slow down on reading. This one was too good though. An autistic protagonist, although the word “autism” is never actually spoken: cool! It was nice to have a somewhat unusual main character; most of Sally Hepworth’s female leads are kinda Barbie dolls (not a criticism, just an observation: she likes to write about rich, pretty, feminine, romantic, housewifey types), but Fern here is ~Autistic~ Barbie! Sally Hepworth always makes sure to remind us, over and over, how frequently her characters love to exercise, so that we understand that they are super fit and sexy. (Granted, judging from her back jacket photos, Sally Hepworth is, herself, a very beautiful, attractive, and fashionable person — write what you know, I guess.) Interesting though. I think the folks on Writer Twitter (er, X now) might have a few things to say about Sally Hepworth writing an autistic character in the first person when she herself is not autistic; I understand that’s a cardinal sin, in this day and age, in the writing world. Anyway, I didn’t mind; I liked it. Fern + “Wally” was probably my favorite romance of hers that I’ve read so far. A little too perfect, lol — he just happens to be a famous bazillionaire with no day job! They’ll never have to work a day in their lives! Life with a disability is easy when you have all the money in the world, Fern realizes at the end, when she figures out that she won’t have to do school pickups/dropoffs or birthday parties because Wally will never need to clock in for a job a single day in his life. Ah, what a dream. Anyway, on a more serious note: this one was my favorite so far. A story of two sisters with different recollections of their childhood is of particular interest to me, as my own sister and I have more than once discussed how different our perceptions are of our upbringing. Thankfully, neither of us has ever committed murder. Rose had me in the first half, not gonna lie… but by the back half I hated her! The scene in the hospital where she showed up with formula like “I’m the mom” and refused to let Fern breastfeed her own newborn… that was almost too physically painful to read! I almost needed to put it down. But couldn’t. Damn your writing skills, Sally Hepworth! I’m gonna have to avoid her books in the future, they’re too much fun for me. But, in the meantime, just one more…

The Things We Keep. This one was different than her others: slower and sadder. Lighter on the crime and mystery, heavier on the reflection and sorrow. Still really good, but not as much “suspense.” Also, I don’t think it was Sally Hepworth’s intention, and this might just be me, but this book kinda made Anna’s life with Alzheimer’s look… idllyic?! I mean: a permanent stay at what basically amounts to a gorgeous, ritzy B&B with its own fancy chef and sexy gardener… zero responsibilities, unlimited leisure time, a credit card for shopping, all expenses paid, people taking care of you around the clock, and your gorgeous lover right there with you, like an endless honeymoon? A bit fantastical, really. My one beef with this one: I’m sorry, but there is nothing “dead sexy” about a man crawling up the stairs, no matter how good-looking the man is, lol. Did give me a good laugh though, so thanks for that. And, how does he stay so “muscular,” anyway, living in a nursing home with dementia? Hmm. I take issue also with the way that, while all the main characters are beautiful and fit, the two “villains,” Eric and Miranda’s mom, are hatefully described as fat — perpetuating the stupid stereotype in fiction that “fat = bad” and “thin/attractive = good.” And also, the name Richard being used on a rich, shady, sleazy businessman. Why is “Richard” always a rich, shady, sleazy businessman, in fiction?! Has there ever been a decent fictional Richard?! Come on now. In all seriousness though, this book really toed the line between “good-sad” and “too sad,” for me. Impressive though; apparently she can write in first-person from a seven-year-old’s POV too, and it really works. No raspberry-white chocolate muffins, but we do get some orange-poppyseed ones.

Umm… I lied. Just one more:

Darling Girls. Okay, I’ll say it: this one had the most exciting, “high-concept” premise, but the least-polished execution. The story was insanely good — but the ending felt rushed, some of the last scenes a bit contrived, the big twist felt too late, and there were two or three typos. I can excuse one, but when there are two or three, I’m like: why did nobody look at this before they printed it? I feel like maybe they were rushing her to finish the novel and hand it over. My other beef: it’s mentioned that Kevin, the creep, is a D&D player. Ugh. Let’s stop maligning D&D players, can we?! I’m so over the popular portrayal of them as all slimy, smelly neckbeards and incels. D&D is a highly intricate, intelligent, artistic, and fascinating thing. I don’t play it, I’m way too stupid for that, but my husband does. Anyway. Rant over. Whatever. Still a thrilling, un-put-downable book, and honestly it’s probably just that I’ve become spoiled and nitpicky from reading 1500+ pages of Sally Hepworth’s incredible writing over the past two weeks. This one also dropped a few truth-bombs that made me pause and go “😮” and just stare and think for a minute, such as: “Even after all these years, yearning for the love and attention of someone who couldn’t give it to her was much more comfortable than actually receiving it” (96). Damn, ok! It’s these profound little moments that make Sally Hepworth’s writing more than just “chick lit” crime thrillers. Also, Holly Fairchild is 100% her worst villain yet; total nightmare fuel. I can easily see this one being made into a limited series on Netflix. No muffins to speak of, though, alas.

… Okay, that’s it. I’ve got to slow down for real. At some point I’ve got to get back to that accused middle grade fiction project I mentioned three or four months ago. I need to go read something dry and dense. And I need to sleep! Do not, I repeat, do NOT, under any circumstances, give me any more copies of any Sally Hepworth novels, no matter what I say to you, no matter how I beg. I’m in recovery.