Can we talk about how Susan Cambria is basically every insufferable mom I've ever met at a PTA fundraiser? The one who makes sure you know her daughter's private school costs more than your mortgage and acts like bringing store-bought cookies is a personal attack on her family's honor? Because I spent the first three hours of this audiobook wanting to reach through my phone and shake this woman.
And honestly? That's exactly what made it work for me.
When Snobby Gets This Good, You Can't Look Away
Sarah Naughton's narration of Susan is *chef's kiss* levels of perfectly hateable. She's got this clipped Chicago socialite thing going on that drips with condescension—the way she describes the Lowcountry barbecue engagement party like she's been asked to attend a monster truck rally. Meanwhile, Courtney Patterson does Diane (the groom's mom, the peach farmer, the actual human being) with this warm Southern drawl that makes you want to invite her over for wine and gossip.
The contrast between these two narrators is the whole point. You've got the Cambrias in their multimillion-dollar Chicago penthouse thinking their daughter is marrying beneath her, and the Stiftels in South Carolina just trying to throw a nice party without being judged for serving pulled pork instead of caviar. Every time the narration switched between mothers, I felt the whiplash of their worlds colliding. Patterson's Diane sounds like she'd help you hide a body. Naughton's Susan sounds like she'd report you to the homeowner's association for having the wrong shade of beige on your shutters.
The "I Finished This During Nap Time" Miracle
Look, at 10 and a half hours, this isn't a quick listen. But Dorothea Benton Frank writes the kind of book that survives 47 pauses and still makes sense when you come back. I picked this up during Sophie's nap time, continued during school pickup (parked, obviously, I'm not a monster), and finished it during my sacred 45 minutes of car-in-the-garage decompression time.
The plot is exactly what you'd expect: two families clash, secrets come out, someone learns a lesson about what really matters. There's a rehearsal dinner hoedown during a Chicago snowstorm that's genuinely funny, and the wedding day scenes hit harder than I expected. Frank doesn't reinvent the wheel here, and some readers complained the story felt rushed—especially a death that gets glossed over faster than I gloss over my kids' explanations of Minecraft. But honestly? Sometimes you don't need groundbreaking. Sometimes you need a satisfying story about rich people getting knocked down a peg and good people getting their due. Two Truths and a Lie scratches that same itch, though with more mystery and less peach farming.
Not Without Its Yogurt-in-Weird-Places Moments
I'm not going to pretend this is flawless. Some of the dialogue wanders into "why are we talking about this" territory—conversations that feel like filler between the good stuff. And while I loved hating Susan, her character development feels a little too neat by the end. Like, ma'am, you were insufferable for nine hours and now you're suddenly self-aware? That's not how therapy works.
Also, and this is petty, but some of the secondary characters blend together. I kept mixing up which Chicago socialite was which, and honestly I'm still not sure I have them straight. The three narrators do heavy lifting to keep the main women distinct, but the supporting cast gets a bit muddy.
Who's Going to Love This (And Who Should Skip)
This is a car time approved, folding-laundry-friendly listen. The kind of book where you can zone out for a minute when your five-year-old needs help finding his shoe (it's always under the couch, Lucas, ALWAYS) and come back without feeling lost. Skip it if you need tight plotting or can't handle some filler dialogue—this one meanders. But if you want drama that isn't yours for a change? Perfect.
If you've ever felt judged by another mom for your parenting choices, your house, your job, or your decision to let your kids eat chicken nuggets for the third night in a row—you're going to feel very seen by Diane's storyline. That sting of being judged hit me hard in Nothing New for Sophie Drew too, though in a completely different context. And if you've ever secretly wondered if you're becoming a Susan? This might be a good reality check.
Made Me Cry at School Pickup. Worth It Though.
Dorothea Benton Frank passed away in 2019, and this was one of her later books. There's something bittersweet about listening to an author who clearly loved the Lowcountry so much, knowing there won't be more. She had a gift for making you feel the humidity and smell the ocean spray, even when you're sitting in a minivan in suburban Ohio.
Not her strongest work—longtime fans say the character development isn't as deep as her earlier books—but still a solid, entertaining listen with fantastic narration.
