“My name is Amber Reynolds. There are three things you should know about me: 1. I’m in a coma. 2. My husband doesn’t love me anymore. 3. Sometimes I lie.”
With this chilling introduction, Alice Feeney launches readers into a psychological labyrinth where truth and fiction intertwine so seamlessly that discerning one from the other becomes nearly impossible. Her debut thriller, “Sometimes I Lie,” is a masterclass in unreliable narration—a dizzying journey through layers of deception that will leave you questioning everything you’ve read long after turning the final page.
The novel’s premise is deceptively simple: Amber Reynolds wakes up in a hospital, unable to move, speak, or open her eyes, but fully conscious and able to hear everything happening around her. She doesn’t remember the accident that put her there but suspects her husband might be responsible. What follows is a narrative that alternates between three timelines: Amber’s present-day predicament in the hospital, the week leading up to her accident, and childhood diary entries from 1992.
Psychological Depth in Three Dimensions
Feeney’s decision to structure the story across three distinct timelines creates a richly layered narrative that allows the revelations to unfold at a measured pace. This technique serves the psychological thriller genre perfectly, as each timeline gradually reveals crucial information that reshapes our understanding of Amber and her relationships.
The “Now” sections—from Amber’s perspective in the hospital—are claustrophobic and deeply unsettling. Feeney brilliantly captures the horror of being trapped inside one’s own body, conscious but unable to communicate. The visceral descriptions of medical procedures, the indignity of being cleaned by nurses, and the helpless terror of overhearing conversations about her condition create an atmosphere of profound vulnerability and isolation.
“I’m not someone who cries, I have other ways of expressing my sadness. The wheels on the bus go round and round… I wish I could tell him the truth.”
The “Then” sections, covering the week before the accident, reveal a woman struggling to maintain her position at a radio station while navigating a strained marriage and complex relationship with her sister. Here, Feeney excels at building tension through seemingly mundane workplace and family dynamics that gradually reveal deeper, more sinister undercurrents.
The “Before” sections—childhood diary entries from 1992—initially appear disconnected from the main narrative but gradually become central to understanding the psychological foundation of the present-day events. These entries, written in a convincingly childlike voice, contain some of the novel’s most disturbing revelations.
Masterful Manipulation of Reader Perception
What makes “Sometimes I Lie” stand out among psychological thrillers is Feeney’s exceptional skill at manipulating reader perception. Just when you think you’ve found solid ground, she pulls it away, forcing you to reconsider everything you thought you knew. The unreliable narrator device isn’t merely a gimmick here—it’s integral to the story’s exploration of identity, memory, and psychological trauma.
The novel’s twists and revelations are meticulously constructed. Rather than relying on shock value alone, Feeney plants subtle clues throughout the narrative that, in retrospect, point toward the truth. This creates a reading experience that rewards attention to detail and invites rereading.
The Psychological Complexity of Sisterhood
At its core, “Sometimes I Lie” is an exploration of the complex psychology of sisterhood. The relationship between Amber and Claire is multifaceted, shifting between love, jealousy, protection, and control. Feeney examines how childhood trauma can shape adult relationships, and how the lines between love and obsession can blur to the point of becoming indistinguishable.
“She’s never been intimate with any other man. Never been interested. When Claire chooses to love you, it’s forever.”
The novel also delves into the psychological impact of childhood trauma and how it manifests in adult behavior. Amber’s OCD rituals—checking the oven multiple times, counting, arranging things in specific orders—are portrayed with sensitivity and realism. These compulsions aren’t merely character quirks but deeply rooted coping mechanisms stemming from past trauma.
Atmospheric Writing and Memorable Imagery
Feeney’s prose is crisp and atmospheric, with a talent for creating memorable imagery. The recurring motifs—especially the color red, which appears throughout the novel in various forms—create a cohesive visual landscape that heightens the psychological tension. The use of nursery rhymes and childhood songs adds an eerie, unsettling quality to the narrative.
“The wheels on the bus go round and round… Round and round… Round and round.”
This repetitive children’s song becomes increasingly sinister as the novel progresses, transforming from an innocent childhood memory into a manifestation of psychological distress.
Critical Analysis: Strengths and Weaknesses
Strengths:
- Intricate plotting: The way Feeney weaves together three timelines while maintaining coherence and building toward multiple revelations demonstrates exceptional plotting skills.
- Psychological depth: The exploration of trauma, identity, and the psychology of relationships shows a nuanced understanding of human behavior.
- Atmospheric tension: The hospital scenes are particularly effective at creating a sense of claustrophobia and helplessness.
- Character development: Amber’s complexity evolves naturally through the narrative, revealing different facets of her personality across the timelines.
Weaknesses:
- Suspension of disbelief: Some plot elements—particularly in the final act—require significant suspension of disbelief, potentially taking readers out of the otherwise psychologically realistic narrative.
- Character motivations: While most characters’ actions are well-justified psychologically, a few secondary characters’ motivations feel underdeveloped.
- Pacing issues: The middle section occasionally lags compared to the tightly constructed beginning and end.
- Resolution: The ending, while shocking, might leave some readers feeling that emotional catharsis has been sacrificed for the sake of a final twist.
Comparison to Genre Contemporaries
“Sometimes I Lie” sits comfortably alongside psychological thrillers like “The Girl on the Train” by Paula Hawkins and “Gone Girl” by Gillian Flynn, with its unreliable narrator and domestic setting. However, Feeney brings a uniquely claustrophobic perspective with the coma scenario that distinguishes it from its contemporaries.
For fans of twisty psychological thrillers featuring complex female protagonists, “Sometimes I Lie” delivers satisfaction comparable to S.J. Watson’s “Before I Go to Sleep” or A.J. Finn’s “The Woman in the Window,” though Feeney’s approach to the unreliable narrator feels fresher and more intrinsically tied to psychological trauma.
Enduring Impact and Final Verdict
As Alice Feeney’s debut novel, “Sometimes I Lie” announces the arrival of a formidable talent in psychological fiction. The novel’s strength lies not merely in its clever plot twists but in its nuanced exploration of identity, trauma, and the malleability of truth and memory.
The book’s final twist—which I won’t spoil here—forces readers to reconsider everything they’ve read before, encouraging a second reading to catch all the subtly planted clues. This lingering impact, the way the story continues to unfold in your mind after you’ve finished reading, marks “Sometimes I Lie” as a superior example of psychological fiction.
While not without flaws, Feeney’s debut establishes her as a writer with keen psychological insight and exceptional narrative craft. For readers who enjoy psychological thrillers that challenge perception and delve deep into the complexity of human relationships, “Sometimes I Lie” is a riveting, unsettling journey worth taking.
The Bottom Line:
A twisted, cleverly constructed psychological thriller that skillfully plays with perception and delivers genuine surprises. Feeney’s exploration of sisterhood, identity, and the nature of truth creates a memorably disquieting reading experience that lingers long after the final page.
Since this impressive debut, Feeney has continued to deliver compelling psychological thrillers with “I Know Who You Are,” “His & Hers,” “Beautiful Ugly,” and “Rock Paper Scissors,” establishing herself as a consistent voice in the genre. However, “Sometimes I Lie” remains her most psychologically complex and structurally innovative work to date.