It's the 1950s in Houston, Texas and this book follows Cece Buchanan and her best friend Joan Fortier as they transition from high school to adulthood in elite society. Well, that's one tepid way to put it. Another way is: we are spectators to Joan Fortier's life, just like her best friend Cece. She's the closest person to Joan, and yet she can't even grasp her. Joan is the most beautiful and charismatic woman in Houston, and part of her allure is fueled by the air of mystery around her. If we are the spectators, Joan is the elusive spectre.

This is my first DiSclafani novel, and the woman can write atmosphere! There's something so wonderfully vintage about the scene setting; it feels Hitchcockian in noir and restrained perversity, like Rebecca the novel in its hypnotic words but also like the decadent film (Joan Fortier is spelled so similarly to Joan Fontaine, don't you think?). But there's no Max de Winter here (#blessed), there's only Joan and Cece, two women who each have dark secrets. DiSclafani builds the tension as she reveals the level of Cece's obsession, though it's fun to debate the underlying motivations of this polite, rule-following, stay-at-home mother and smiling wife. As we wonder about Joan’s life, occasionally one has to pause and pan the camera back to Cece: wait, what about you?

There was only one plot point of predictability for me, but I think it's more homage to old movies and culture, and DiSclafani does serve it up with a twist. The delicious secrets are revealed by book's end, but that evocative atmosphere remained for me, and I love anything that feels like an old Hollywood movie, or du Maurier novel.