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Blood Orange by Harriet Tyce

I was attracted to Harriet Tyce's Blood Orange by positive endorsements that suggested it was a strong example of the 'domestic noir' genre. These sorts of books are hugely popular at the moment and there are some brilliant examples out there, but I think it's hard to separate the wheat from the chaff. The blurb for this one (and, interestingly, the cover, which steers away from the usual shadowy, black-and-white grainy image with a portentous title across it in neon block capitals) suggested it was a cut above the rest.

Unfortunately, I'm now a bit annoyed with myself for being swayed by the marketing, because I found this book disappointing. The protagonist is Alison, a barrister married to therapist Carl, with whom she has a young daughter, Matilda. Alison is having an affair with Patrick, a work colleague: it's the sort of affair that involves Alison getting drunk after work with her fellow lawyers and then having rough sex in the office before passing out…

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