Sometimes I Lie
By Alice Feeney
272 pages;
Flatiron Books
"Sometimes I lie," warns 35-year-old Amber Reynolds, the protagonist of this debut thriller. It's Boxing Day, and Amber is in no position to lie to anyone—she's in no position to do anything, trapped comatose in a hospital bed, with no recollection of the incident that put her there. Unable to speak or even to open her eyes, Amber is reduced to making sense of her surroundings via snippets of conversations she overhears between her distant husband, Paul, her perfect sister, Claire. As Amber's memory begins to return to her, the narrative flashes back to the week leading up to Amber's accident, including difficulties at home and in her job, and then further still, to a series of diary entries from a defining moment in Amber's childhood. The twists pile up in the book's second half, and, though not all of them feel fully explored, Amber's account, especially as a prisoner of her own body, is visceral and haunting. "I focus all of myself on my mouth, on forming a shape and making a dent," Amber describes, "but nothing comes. I am a ghost trapped inside myself."
— Julia Pierpont
