Annie Fairhurst, the narrator of this clever, black-humored character study, hooks the reader from the opening scene, which opens with Annie sending a van containing all her possessions to a new address, after which she strips off all her clothes and viciously attacks the "bloody sofa" which she has left behind. It is the sofa on which her husband proposed to her more than a decade ago. When she arrives at her new house, she envisions herself as Jackie Kennedy, "getting out of an aeroplane. She's tiptoeing down the steps her hair like sculpted soap, waving gently..." Clearly this main character, who has problems with anger and with her perception of herself, has a lot to learn, but the reader quickly discovers that she plans to work on her issues--with advice from virtually every self-help book ever written.

Author Jenn Ashworth takes the concept of irony to new heights in this psychological novel which rivals Patrick McCabe's The Butcher Boy in its intensity, and it is in her irony that this novel achieves something that McCabe's novel does not--it is pathetically funny at the same time that it is terrifyingly slow in its revelations of Annie's past life. In the first six pages, Neil, Annie's new next door neighbor, asks her if "the family," especially her little girl, have arrived yet. Annie asserts that he must be confused. Every remark and every action from this point on capitalizes on the reader's understanding of real life as the author shows it being played out in conversations among the neighbors and other residents of the community, while Annie twists and manipulates what she sees and hears so that her reality will be what she wants it to be. Her obsession with the unfortunate Neil, who is happily living with Lucy, a young woman whom Annie abhors, leads her into many unneighborly acts, and she eventually comes to the attention of the association's Neighborhood Watch.

All the conversations between Annie and everyone else are classics of dramatic irony. The reader recognizes bits of the truth while the real story of Annie and her past are withheld for most of the book, thereby sustaining suspense while drawing the reader into Annie's twisted world. The cumulative picture of Annie's mind as the plot develops further becomes positively terrifying--and pathetic. When the author finally begins to reveal details of Annie's past, the reader still cannot help wondering how the author will ever reconcile the information gleaned from several seemingly conflicting scenes. The conclusion is sly-brilliant, even-with the full impact coming very gradually.

Ashworth's eye for the character-revealing detail is unerring, as is her control of Annie's "voice." A couple of obvious examples of foreshadowing are a bit clumsy, but overall, the author's control of her details and her pacing are meticulous. Ashworth manages to depict a main character with a perverted sense of self and gross ignorance of the social conventions, at the same time satirizing the very suburban society which Annie wishes to be part of--a major achievement pulled off with panache and darkly humorous flair. Mary Whipple