One of Rendell's most smoothly and absorbingly written books, yet arguably one of her least satisfying -- certainly of those that I've read.
A dozen or so years ago, Ismay's younger sister Heather, then aged 13, drowned their stepfather in the bathtub while Ismay and her mum were out shopping. Or at least that's what Ismay assumes: she and mum have been acting on the principle that, if you don't actually talk something through, then it's easier to deny it -- and, besides, the cops and everyone else assumed it was an accident. Now Ismay and Heather live in the downstairs of the family home; upstairs, mum, driven bonkers by the death and its aftermath, is tended by Aunt Pat.
Ismay's boyfriend Andrew is a snobbish spoiled brat, and psychologically abusive of her; nonetheless, she's completely infatuated with him. Heather, by contrast, has just begun a wonderful relationship with Edmund; ironically, Edmund only ever asked her out on a date in order to dodge the ghastly Marion, whom his hypochondriac mother was trying to matchmake with him . . .
The stage is obviously set for melodrama, but it's a melodrama that never arrives (although there's another murder of a peripheral character). Instead what we have is an exercise in which it seems as if Rendell was trying to buck all the conventional rules of novel-writing. Bar two, every character in the novel is self-serving or self-engrossed, or is a ninny, or is pompously self-deluding, or weak, or airheaded, or downright criminal and potentially murderous. Furthermore, by the end of the tale, all of those characters, from deficient to vile, get what they wanted, or at least some degree thereof; the only people for whom there are no happy endings are the two we like and respect . . . one of whom is a murderess.
I'm perfectly happy reading about unsympathetic characters: I don't need the novels I read to be stuffed with Mr. and Ms. Niceguys. This aspect of The Water's Lovely I relished, as I did the strain of dark humor underlying much of the tale: the sociopathic Marion, for example, is both a fantasticated and a richly comic creation. It didn't bother me that I'd spotted one of the final twists by about page 10, especially since I don't think Rendell was particularly trying to hide it from us. And I found the book wonderfully readable. Yet there were two features that undermined the book so far as I was concerned.
First, a significant plot-point relied upon a quite outrageous coincidence. Yes, outrageous coincidences do happen in real life, but for obvious reasons they're extremely rare. This one must be a millions-to-one against, and yet it's treated as just one of those things.
Second, the very final twist, which I imagine was intended to be devastating, came across to me as trite, contrived and uneasily exploitative. It was unnecessary, and left a sour taste in my mouth.
Rendell has written some of the very best crime/psychological novels that I've read (I'm not so keen on her Wexford mysteries, which seem to me a bit plodding*), but alas I don't think this is one of them. It offers an easy and enjoyable ride to a destination you wish you hadn't reached.
* See what I did there?