Dear Debbie
Freida McFadden turns an advice columnist into a woman done giving advice in Dear Debbie, a dark-comedy revenge thriller about a wife and mother who decides other people's consequences are finally due. It's a mean, funny, fast psychological thriller for readers who want their catharsis served cold.
From the review
Debbie Mullen spends her column telling other women what to do about husbands who lie, belittle, and worse, and the joke of Dear Debbie is that she's terrible at taking her own advice. McFadden opens on a woman absorbing one indignity after another: a job gone, a marriage curdling into surveillance, two teenage daughters who've started keeping secrets of their own. The early chapters move at a deliberate simmer, stacking small humiliations until Debbie's patience runs out in a way that feels less like a twist than an inevitability. Once she stops being reasonable, the book turns gleefully mean. McFadden has always known how to make a reader complicit, and here she weaponizes the advice-column structure itself: every problem Debbie used to solve for strangers becomes a problem she starts solving for herself, by whatever means the situation demands. The plotting rewards suspicion. Husbands, neighbors, colleagues, even the daughters, all get a turn under Debbie's newly unsentimental eye, and McFadden keeps sliding the ground so a reader's confidence about who's dangerous and who's just unpleasant never sits still for long.
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