Wow, never thought I’d find myself here. This was the first time I’ve read anything by Liane Moriarty.

Typically, I avoid these ultra-popular bestsellers on principle; I don’t like to like things that are ultra-popular, and tend to believe that most people have bad taste, so a book being ultra-popular is likely a bad sign.

So why did I pick up this one? Because, well, I’d exhausted my local library’s suppy of Sally Hepworth books, and these days I’m in dire need of highly-distracting, Sally Hepworth-like content; so, in desperation I asked stupid old ChatGPT to recommend me some similar authors. Liane Moriarty was the first name it spat out. Then, conveniently, when I walked into the library with my little list of author names in hand, this book was sitting right there on a big display right by the front desk:

I can see why Chat would list this author as similar to my beloved Ms. Hepworth. Both writers are Australian and write domestic thrillers — marital and familial drama with a bit of romance and some murder mystery mixed in.

But right off the bat I was struck by the differences between the two authors. Sally Hepworth’s tone is warm and sincere, like a best friend; Liane Moriarty’s felt, to me, irreverent and almost snide, like a jaded stand-up comic. At first, I was put off by her sense of humor, like, it looked like she was trying too hard to look clever and it was just unfunny and annoying.

However: she’s so good at plot that pretty soon I was sucked in and willing to put up with her attitude in order to find out the answers to these pressing questions (and, as I went on, I got used to her tone and it stopped bothering me so much). What was the husband’s secret?! What was in that letter?? But even more pressing than that question, was this one: what the heck was Tess going to do in this impossible situation, her husband and her cousin/bff suddenly in love? That was the plot thread that really sucked me in, because it was just so dreadful to imagine.

Really this was a very masterfully-written book. The recurring motif of the Berlin Wall, the treatment of the age-old “how things could or should have been” question, the way LM seems to understand humans and their inner workings and motivations with such a sharp insight, describing their thought processes and patterns with an eloquence that’s at times disarming. Most of all, the way she brought together these three loosely-connected plot threads — Rachel, Tess, and Cecilia — at the inevitable, terrible culmination. The way she built up to that moment was so tense and cinematic.

I mostly related to Tess, of course — the socially anxious one. Right down to the way people close to her tell her “nooo, you can’t have social anxiety!, you’re too competent!, you do x y and z!,” completely misunderstanding her.

I also enjoyed getting Rachel’s POV. We’re used to seeing the evil MIL archetype in women’s fiction, but this time we got to hear from the evil MIL herself and see things from her POV, while at the same time being made to understand how her behavior must be coming off to Lauren — very smoothly done.

Also very smoothly done was the perfect balance achieved by the ending — the justice, between Rachel & Cecilia and likewise between Tess & Will. Eerie reflections of each other, these two situations. It was just a really brilliant plot, which always impresses me so much, as someone who sucks at writing plot.

However, I don’t plan on reading anymore Liane Moriarty, at least not for a while, not unless I run out of other options.

Why?: for one, too much sex. Way too glib of a treatment of this topic, for me. Way too much sex talk and too many sex scenes. Just unnecessary and lame.

Also, I didn’t care for her treatment of religion. The Husband’s Secret really kind of mocks Catholicism. All the characters are lapsed Catholics who make light of their religion — “we’re Catholic, we go to Mass, and all, but we’re not religious, for goodness’ sake,” Cecilia thinks in horror when her husband starts using the word “God” in conversation during his confession to her. Much of the story takes place at a Catholic school during Holy Week, but there’s never once a single expression of reverence or genuine religious sentiment, and the characters are always rolling their eyes at the silly quirks of those few people who actually practice their religion (like how Rachel’s mom used to pray the Stations on Good Friday — how silly and absurd! Who would do that!).

You’d think that, with all the loss and tragedy and guilt and forgiveness, some character at some point might turn to their faith for answers or for peace — but they never do. Like why did John-Paul never go to Confession and get some actual penance and absolution?! It was right there the whole time! I can’t tell you how many times I was frustratedly shouting at a character in my head like “come on, bro!, why don’t you go to Mass about it! Open your Bible about it, for once! Come on, Ms. Moriarty, this scene would be a great opportunity to bring God into the equation!, you’ve already established the Catholic environment and everything, come on!”, but alas, religion remained, in her world, this annoying and archaic cultural layover habit, and nothing more. That was a big turnoff for me. I don’t need a book to be explicitly Christian or anything, but outright making fun of religion this way is just loser behavior. What a shame.

Final verdict: fun, smart, highly enjoyable — I can see why it’s a bestseller — but, unfortunately, due to the treatment of faith and morals, complete junk food for the brain. I prefer Sally Hepworth’s wholesome and optimistic style, even though I think Liane Moriarty might be a bit more of a genius when it comes to human nature.