Big Little Truths

Autorentext

Liane Moriarty

Klappentext

INSTANT #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • REESE’S BOOK CLUB PICK • FROM THE AUTHOR OF BIG LITTLE LIES, THE RUNAWAY PHENOMENON THAT INSPIRED THE MEGAHIT HBO SERIES

In this highly anticipated sequel, Liane Moriarty examines the complexities of modern women’s lives, shining light on family dynamics and long-hidden truths with wit and compassion.

**“Equal parts juicy, gripping, and impossible to put down . . . I loved diving back into the lives of these unforgettable characters and watching their stories unfold in ways that were both intriguing and deeply satisfying.”­—Freida McFadden, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Housemaid

“What a gossipy, dazzling pleasure it is to be in Liane Moriarty’s mind! She captures perfectly the tender agony of trying to parent teenagers.”—Rufi Thorpe, bestselling author of Margo’s Got Money Troubles**

The last time we saw the women of Big Little Lies—Madeline, Celeste, Jane, Renata, and Bonnie—their children were five years old. If someone wasn’t invited to a birthday party, feelings were hurt. But ten years have passed and the kids are in high school, navigating all of the drama that accompanies teendom (goodbye playdates, hello drugs, sex, and alcohol).

When the high school principal receives a threatening package in the mail, word quickly spreads throughout the community and parents are in an uproar. But Madeline, Celeste, Jane, Renata, and Bonnie have other things to worry about. Celeste’s mother-in-law, Mary Louise, is behaving oddly—is it old-age forgetfulness and bluntness or something more sinister? Madeline is facing perhaps the biggest challenge of her life, Jane is at a dangerous fork in her marriage, Bonnie has realized there’s only so much solace in yoga. And Renata? Renata is living her best life—revenge is sweet.

When a stranger begins lurking around the school asking supposedly innocent questions, this tightly connected group of women must finally face the full repercussions of the big little truths they have and haven’t shared with their kids. Because the stakes are now much higher than not being invited to an ice-skating party—and the ice has never been thinner for any of them.

Zusammenfassung
FROM THE #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF BIG LITTLE LIES, THE RUNAWAY PHENOMENON THAT INSPIRED THE MEGAHIT HBO SERIES

In this highly anticipated sequel, Liane Moriarty examines the complexities of modern women’s lives, shining light on family dynamics and long-hidden truths with wit and compassion. Whether you’ve read Big Little Lies or not, this is the perfect novel for longtime fans and new readers alike.

“Equal parts juicy, gripping, and impossible to put down . . . I loved diving back into the lives of these unforgettable characters.”­—Freida McFadden, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Housemaid

The last time we saw the women of Big Little Lies—Madeline, Celeste, Jane, Renata, and Bonnie—their children were five years old. If someone wasn’t invited to a birthday party, feelings were hurt. But ten years have passed and the kids are in high school, navigating all of the drama that accompanies teendom (goodbye playdates, hello drugs, sex, and alcohol).

When the high school principal receives a threatening package in the mail, word quickly spreads throughout the community and parents are in an uproar. But Madeline, Celeste, Jane, Renata, and Bonnie have other things to worry about. Celeste’s mother-in-law, Mary Louise, is behaving oddly—is it old-age forgetfulness and bluntness or something more sinister? Madeline is facing perhaps the biggest challenge of her life, Jane is at a dangerous fork in her marriage, Bonnie has realized there’s only so much solace in yoga. And Renata? Renata is living her best life—revenge is sweet.

When a stranger begins lurking around the school asking supposedly innocent questions, this tightly connected group of women must finally face the full repercussions of the big little truths they have and haven’t shared with their kids. Because the stakes are now much higher than not being invited to an ice-skating party—and the ice has never been thinner for any of them.

Leseprobe
Chapter 1

9:22 a.m

It was a soft-­breezed spring morning on the Pirriwee Peninsula north of Sydney. Bright yellow native wattle lined the winding coastal road. Jacarandas blossomed lush-­purple against a cloudless blue sky. Chicks warbled adorably in their nests. A protective magpie, alert to potential predators, swooped like a missile at the helmeted head of an innocent cyclist.

The morning rush was still underway at the beloved beachside café Blue Blues, but the beach itself was quiet. A small dog pelted across the flat, firm sand, followed by its guilty owner, leash in hand. Surf conditions were “clean and peaky.” The main swell was from the east.

A handful of gray-­haired surfers sat astride bobbing boards and shielded their eyes to watch a pod of dolphins leap and dive like a line of music across the horizon. Just past the point, unseen by the surfers, a whale ferried her rambunctious firstborn calf through the coastal waters of the “Humpback Highway.”

At Pirriwee’s beachfront park, a circle of new mothers sat cross-­legged on picnic blankets, cradling tiny babies and speaking plaintively of sleep schedules, while a nearby tai chi class of senior citizens painted invisible rainbows in the air, smiled at the babies, and remembered their own.

Then: a sudden discordant flash of noise and movement.

Footsteps pounded like galloping racehorses.

The new mothers clasped their babies close as a pack of teenagers ran through the park.

Not really a pack. They were not wolves, and there were only six of them: three girls and three boys. It just seemed like more. Their legs were so long. Their emotions so seemingly outsized. They bolted down the concrete steps and onto the beach, where they collapsed on the sand, shrieking as if they’d reached safety or crossed an invisible finish line. They were empty-­handed except for one boy, who hugged a laptop to his chest. One of them burst into tears, or laughter. It was hard to tell. It seemed possible they were drunk.

The high school where these students were enrolled, and where they should have been at that time, was a ten-­minute walk uphill from the beach. Students were pouring noisily out of classrooms like concertgoers attempting to leave a venue. They clogged the hallways and stairwells. It was “Tech-Free Tuesday,” so everyone was being discreet about their device usage.

Mrs. Lottie Wang, Pirriwee High’s administrator and executive assistant to the principal, sat at the reception desk sorting the mail.

She opened a large yellow envelope addressed in black marker to the school principal, Dr. Ferdinand Seawright, whom she could hear in the adjoining office, talking loudly to himself as he sat at his desktop computer, which apparently did not fall within the category of “technology.”

This was Dr. Seawright’s first year at the school and Lottie had yet to adjust to his habit of speaking aloud as he typed, as if he were dictating the words to himself.

“Once again . . . my patience . . . wears thin,” he said.

Mine too, she thought.

“Parents should . . . be aware . . . this behavior is not condoned . . . is prohibited by the Pirriwee High School Code of Conduct,” he said.

Lottie sighed.

The yellow envelope contained a white Styrofoam box, a …