I'm writing this review having stayed up until 1:30am today reading the last forty pages of Matilde Pratesi's debut novel, which says all you need to know about how compelling that final stretch is.
There are countless books out there about poisonous relationships - the thriller industry practically runs on toxic marriages and terrible parents - but the characters in Pig and the precise nature of their relationship aren't quite so conveniently defined.
Valeria, our protagonist, and Clara, her housemate, are childhood friends from Italy, who have found each other again in London. Vale, shy, bullied at school and very (I mean very) obsessed with pigs always looked up to confident, liberated Clara. And for a while that worked, as Clara helped her come out of her childhood shell. However after a messy breakup with her boyfriend, Clara has become more and more dependent on Vale, and more and more controlling.
Pratesi is careful not to define relationships too sharply - it's kept vague as to whether anything romantic between the two central characters was ever on the cards. She also doesn't descend into sweeping Du Maurier-esque melodrama (no burning mansions here, although Clara is certainly capable of manipulations that the marble Roman gods that surround them at one stage would be proud of). Instead tension builds far more subtly, as the depth of Clara's control over Vale becomes ever more clear, and her power to escape seems to ebb away.
The middle section of the book goes back in time to Vale's childhood and explores how the central characters first met, as well as casually hanging out a few early red flags. This section is well-written and richly evocative of a sun-drenched Italian childhood, though it does slow the narrative down rather. I'd have been interested to see it interspersed with the current day material.
The other characters surrounding Vale are somewhat lightly sketched, but that works well for a character so deep in an obsessive relationship that everyone and everything around them exists at one remove. They also exhibit the well-meaning concern, frustration and powerlessness of people aware an acquaintance or colleague is in an abusive relationship, but who aren't close enough to feel they can intervene.
Indeed, as reader you become frustrated with Vale more than once during the story as she doesn't always make the best choices, but people in toxic relationships don't always make the best choice, even when they know what the right choice is, and this feels authentic. That said, Clara is by no means a Disney villain, and you can see how she became who she is, and the connection that she and Vale once had.
Ultimately Pig doesn't offer black and white heroes and villains, high drama, red flags or life lessons. It does, however, provide a quiet, well-observed and thoughtful insight into a friendship that has rotted into something more malign that perhaps either party realises.