Darcy Rhone is the worst. And I mean that as a compliment — eventually.
I picked up Something Blue after reading Something Borrowed a few months ago, and I'll be honest, I was skeptical. The first book is told from Rachel's perspective — sweet, rule-following, guilty Rachel — and Darcy is basically the villain. She's vain, she's selfish, she treats people like accessories. So when I found out the sequel is told entirely from Darcy's POV? I had feelings. Not great ones.
But here's the thing. Emily Giffin did something really clever. She didn't try to make Darcy instantly sympathetic. For the first few hours, Darcy is still Darcy — scheming, superficial, convinced she can manipulate her way back to a perfect life. She literally flees to London to stay with Ethan (her childhood friend) and immediately starts trying to bag a British aristocrat because, of course she does. And you're sitting there thinking, "Why am I spending 11 hours with this woman?"
The Part Where Darcy Made Me Want to Scream (In a Good Way)
The genius of this book is the slow thaw. And I do mean slow. Giffin commits to keeping Darcy awful for a really long time, which takes guts when your protagonist is also your narrator. There's a stretch where Darcy is pregnant, living rent-free at Ethan's London flat, and still obsessing over whether she's hotter than other women at restaurants. It's cringeworthy. But it's also — and I hate to admit this — kind of relatable? Not the vanity specifically, but that thing where you KNOW you need to change and you just... keep defaulting to old patterns. The way Darcy clings to her old identity because she literally doesn't know who she is without it? That hit me during nap time and I had to pause because Sophie was screaming, but the thought stuck with me even through the diaper situation that followed.
The London setting does a lot of heavy lifting here. Stripping Darcy away from her Manhattan social circle, from Rachel, from Dex — it forces her into actual solitude for what might be the first time in her life. And Ethan is the perfect foil because he refuses to coddle her. He's blunt in a way that nobody else in Darcy's life has ever been, and those conversations between them are where the book really picks up steam.
Christine Marshall Gets the Assignment
Christine Marshall narrates Darcy with exactly the right amount of bratty edge in the early chapters — that slightly whiny, self-important tone that makes you understand why Darcy's friends tolerate her (she's entertaining) while also wanting to shake her. But here's what impressed me: Marshall gradually softens Darcy's voice as the character grows. It's not a dramatic shift. It's subtle enough that you almost don't notice it's happening until suddenly Darcy says something genuinely vulnerable about becoming a mother, and Marshall delivers it without a trace of the old performance. That transition sold me.
The London scenes especially work well on audio — Marshall doesn't do a full British accent for Ethan but gives him just enough of a different cadence that the setting feels real. One reviewer said they felt like they were actually in London, and I get that. I was in my car in the garage (my sacred 45 minutes of silence, don't judge), but for a few chapters I was genuinely in a Notting Hill flat.
At 11 hours, this is a solid week of listening for someone with my schedule. Not too long, not too short. Survived 47 pauses and still made sense — Darcy's internal monologue is easy to follow even when you've been interrupted by a five-year-old asking why birds have knees.
Fair Warning: You Might Hate Her Before You Love Her
Look. If you couldn't stand Darcy in Something Borrowed, there's a real chance you'll struggle with the first third of this book. Some people never come around to her, and I respect that. She's not written to be easily forgiven. But if you can hang in there past the London scheming phase — if you can get to the part where Darcy starts actually listening to Ethan, starts actually thinking about what kind of mother she wants to be — there's a genuinely satisfying payoff.
This isn't a groundbreaking character study. It's not going to change your life. But sometimes you don't need groundbreaking. Sometimes you need a story about a deeply flawed woman who slowly, painfully, starts doing better. Beneath This Mask gave me that same slow-burn redemption arc — a woman rebuilding herself from the wreckage of who she used to be — and it hit just as hard from the passenger seat of my minivan. And you need it to end well, because the yogurt is everywhere and the kids won't stop fighting and you just need ONE THING to turn out okay today.
Satisfying ending — exactly what I needed. Made me a little misty at pickup, but the happy kind. Not the ugly-cry kind.
My Book Club Would Love This (If I Ever Have Time for Book Club Again)
Perfect for multitasking moms who loved Something Borrowed and want the other side of the story. Skip it if you need to like your protagonist from page one — Darcy earns your affection on her own timeline, not yours. But if you've ever been the person who needed to be humbled before you could grow? This one's for you. Car time approved.
