Written and set in 1964, this is a story of a 60s picture of settled suburban “domestic bliss” in the marriage between Rosamund and Geoffrey being disturbed by the arrival Lindy, the seemingly free-spirited, rather bohemian woman who moves in next door. She gradually infiltrates and disrupts all their routines and shared pleasures while Geoffrey begins to focus more and more on Lindy. And then Lindy disappears, but severe flu means that Rosamund cannot remember what happened that day...while sinister clues and dark imaginings begin to accumulate.
It began a little slowly for me, but I was soon hooked by Fremlin’s brilliant character portraits and witty, penetrating insights into people’s attitudes and what is really going on for all these seemingly contented, successful people. She captures perfectly the insecurities, pretences, competitiveness and so on endemic in the staid middle-class group for whom appearing supremely competent and perfectly happy is paramount. And all the while, a slow tension is building so that the final few chapters were truly gripping – although the climax and denouement didn’t quite live up to the rest of the book, I thought.
Nonetheless, I thought it was excellent. Fremlin’s writing, her witty and penetrating insights and her mastery of tension made this quite exceptional and I will definitely be revisiting her work. Very warmly recommended.
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