The last twist, though, is nearly worth the wait, and what sets Moriarty’s writing apart in the genre generally dismissed as chick lit has as much to do with her canny insights into human nature as her clever plotting. Is it golden couple Clementine and Sam or one of their two young daughters? Clementine’s tightly wound best friend, Erika, and her equally self-contained husband, Oliver? Their glamorous neighbors Vid and Tiffany, with all their new money and artless generosity? The book devotes so much energy to aftermath before reaching its big reveal that it begins to feel like a very special, very frustrating episode of CSI: BBQ. There are still many more pages to go before we find out who’s responsible. She also loves to tease out a mystery, and it takes Truly nearly 300 pages to arrive at its relentlessly foreshadowed central event: an unnamed catastrophe at a barbecue that has sent its cast of characters spinning out of their emotional orbits.
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