Unraveling Oliver by Liz Nugent (English) Paperback Book

Description: Unraveling Oliver by Liz Nugent "A brilliant, compulsively readable debut novel -- and a #1 bestseller in the authors native Ireland -- about the truth behind a shocking act of savagery, and the profound lies and deceptions that come to light in its wake"-- FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description "Searing, searching, finally scorching. Think Making a Murderer via Patricia Highsmith: an elegant kaleidoscope novel that refines and combines multiple perspectives until its subject is brought into indelible, tragic focus." --A. J. Finn, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Woman in the Window "Pitch-black and superbly written." --Ruth Ware, New York Times bestselling author of The Woman in Cabin 10 "Top-notch grip lit...incredibly brilliant." --Marian Keyes, New York Times bestselling author Oliver Ryan has the perfect life. Elegant and seductive, he wants for nothing, sharing a lovely home with his steadfast wife, Alice, who illustrates the award-winning childrens books that have brought him wealth and fame. Until one evening, after eating the dinner Alice has carefully prepared, Oliver savagely assaults her and leaves her for dead. But why? The people who know Oliver can only speculate about the reasons behind his brutal act: his empty-headed mistress Moya, vain and petulant; Veronique, the French chatelaine who tragically lost everything the summer she employed him in her vineyard; Alices friend Barney, who has nursed an unrequited love for her since childhood; Olivers college pal Michael, struggling with voiceless longings that have shamed him for years. What none of them understands is the dark secret that lies behind his immaculate façade. The revelations that come to light as the layers of Olivers past are peeled away are as brutal as his singular act of violence. His decades of careful deception have masked a life irrevocably marked by abandonment, envy, and shame--and as the details of that life are laid bare, Oliver discovers that outrunning his demons is harder than it looks. With its insight into the mind of a psychopath emerging from the wreckage of his own misbegotten past, Unraveling Oliver is a chilling page-turner, brilliantly crafted and unexpectedly moving, by a stunning new voice in fiction. Liz Nugent "presents a fresh look at a man hiding his violent personality in this intense character study" (Publishers Weekly, starred review). As powerful as Patricia Highsmiths unforgettable noir classic, The Talented Mr. Ripley, Unraveling Oliver will enthrall you from its mesmerizing opening line to its equally shocking last page. Author Biography Before becoming a full-time writer Liz Nugent worked in Irish film, theatre and television. In 2014 her first novel, Unravelling Oliver, was a No.1 bestseller and won the Crime Fiction prize in the 2014 Irish Book Awards. Her second novel, Lying in Wait, went straight to No 1 in the Irish bestseller charts and remained there for nearly two months. She lives in Dublin with her husband. Excerpt from Book Unraveling Oliver 1 OLIVER I expected more of a reaction the first time I hit her. She just lay on the floor, holding her jaw. Staring at me. Silent. She didnt even seem to be surprised. I was surprised. I hadnt planned to do it. Usually when you hear about this kind of thing, it is the 1950s, and the husband comes home drunk to his slovenly wife from the pub and finds that his dinner is cold. On the contrary, it was November 12, 2011, a wintry Saturday evening on a south Dublin avenue, and Alice had prepared a delicious meal: lamb tagine, served on a bed of couscous, with pita bread and a side dish of mint yogurt. Though the lamb was a tad lukewarm by the time she presented it, I really couldnt fault it. I had washed the meal down with two glasses of Sancerre while Alice prepared the raspberry roulade for serving. I certainly wasnt drunk. But now, here she lay, the lower half of her body nearly hidden behind the legs of our mahogany dining table, her arms, head, and torso curled inward like a question mark. How had she fallen into that shape? There must have been considerable force behind my closed fist. If the glass had been in my hand, would I have stopped and put it down before I hit her? Or would I have smashed it into her face? Would it have shattered on contact and torn her pale skin? Could I have scarred her for life? Its very hard to know. The words that come to mind are "circumstances beyond our control." I emphasize the word "our" because, although I should not have done it, she really should not have provoked me. The phone rang. Maybe I should have ignored it, but it might have been important. "Hello?" "Oliver. Its Moya. How are things?" These rhetorical questions irritate me. "How are things," indeed. Sorry, Moya, Ive just punched Alice in the face, and shes lying on the floor. And weve had a marvelous dinner. Of course, I didnt say that. I made some ham-fisted attempt at an excuse and bade her farewell. I waited for the reciprocal adieu. There was a moments silence and then: "Dont you want to know how I am? Where I am?" I was short and to the point. "No." Another silence. And then, whispered, "Oh, right, okay, is Alice there?" Go away, you stupid, irritating woman. I didnt say that either. I told her that now was not a good time. She tried to inveigle me into a conversation, prattling about her new life in France. Even amid the turmoil, I could tell that she wanted me to be jealous. Bloody Moya. I ended the conversation politely but firmly. I thought that the decent thing for me to do was to leave the house immediately. Not permanently, you understand. I thought there was more chance of Alice getting up off the floor if I wasnt looming over her. I went to get my coat from its peg in the hall. It was a little difficult to fasten the buttons. My hands suddenly seemed to be too large for my gloves. * * * Two hours later, I was on my third brandy in Nashs. Nervously I buttoned and unbuttoned my shirt cuffs. It is a habit from childhood, a thing I do when I am distressed. Even John-Joe commented on my rattled demeanor when he served me. Brandy would not have been my normal tipple. But I had had a shock, you see. Now I was drunk. I wanted to phone Alice to see if she was all right, but I had left my cell phone in the house in my hurried exit, and I thought that perhaps borrowing somebodys phone would make a bigger deal of the situation than it warranted. Dont get me wrong, I knew it was serious. A significant error of judgment had been made. She should not have ended up on the floor. I am aware that I am not the easiest of people. Alice has told me so. I have no friends, for example. I used to, many years ago, but that really didnt work out. We drifted apart and I let them go--voluntarily, I suppose. Friends are just people who remind you of your failings. I have several acquaintances. I have no family either to speak of. Not in the sense that matters. Over the years, Alice has never pried, has never been too curious. In fact, I would describe her as habitually obedient with just an occasional rebellion. I am not, have never been, violent. I went to the bar and bought a packet of cigarettes. Strong ones. I was worried that my hands were still unsteady. Isnt brandy supposed to help at a time like this? Or is that an old wives tale? Old wives. Outside in the "beer garden" (a yard with half a roof beside the front door), I lit my first cigarette in years. Barney Dwyer, a neighbor from the Villas, approached from the public bar. Barney spent more time in the beer garden than inside the pub. "Thought you quit?" he said. "I did." "Jaysus," he said, a swagger in his voice, sucking on a Rothmans, "they couldnt break me." Here we go. Barney prided himself on his forty-a-day habit. When the smoking ban was introduced, most of us did our best to quit. I am proud to say that I was the first to succeed. I became known as the man with a "will of iron." Barney, on the other hand, made no such attempt. If Barney had never smoked, he would have started the day the ban was introduced. A contrary bugger if ever there was one. Thin head, big ears. "Welcome back," he said. "Im not back. Im just having the one. Its been a bad day." "Jaysus, Oliver, its never just the one. Youre back on the smokes. Face it." I threw my almost-smoked cigarette on the ground. Stamped on it. Tossed the packet containing nineteen cigarettes at Barney. "Keep them," I said. "Go on, kill yourself." * * * My wife had finally brought out the worst in me. It was most unexpected. I had always been fond of her, in my way. She was a marvelous cook, for example, after all the gourmet cuisine courses I made sure she attended. Also, she could be very athletic in bed, which was nice. It is terribly sad to think of such things now, considering her current state. We met at the launch of a book she had illustrated back in 1982. My agent wanted me to meet her. He had suggested that she could do the illustrations for a childrens book Id written that he was pushing around to publishers. I resisted the idea of illustrations initially. They would just distract from my text, I thought, but my agent, I admit it, was right. The drawings made my books far more marketable. We were introduced and I like to think there was an immediate . . . something. "Spark" is not the right word, but an acknowledgment of sorts. Some people call that love at first sight. I am not so na Details ISBN1501173383 Author Liz Nugent Short Title UNRAVELING OLIVER Pages 288 Publisher Gallery/Scout Press Language English ISBN-10 1501173383 ISBN-13 9781501173387 Format Paperback DEWEY 823.92 Year 2018 Publication Date 2018-02-06 Imprint Gallery/Scout Press Audience General UK Release Date 2018-02-06 We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:125043479;

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