Blood Orange by Harriet Tyce is a blur of a book. From the getgo, we're slammed smack-bang into barrister Alison's drunken, falling-apart life.
She's got the career, the perfect house, the perfect family. But, she just can't seem to keep it together.
Boohoo? First world problems?
It may be middle-class posh bird's fare, but this book is a deliciously uncomfortable ride.
Watching a middle-aged woman drunk out of her skull is never a pretty sight.
Then, there's the wilful destruction of designer handbags.
Plus, a wonderfully dark scene in a train toilet, which has to be up there for the best deliberately bad sex scene award.
There's no such award? Someone make one right now for this book.
All's not what it seems in this well-crafted, twisty tale.
One of the best mummy-psycho dramas I've read.