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About the author

LISA JEWELL was born in London in 1968.
Her first novel, Ralph's Party, was the best- selling debut novel of 1999. Since then she has written another nineteen novels, most recently a number of dark psychological thrillers, including The Girls, Then She Was Gone and The Family Upstairs and The Night She Disappeared, all of which were Richard & Judy Book Club picks.
Lisa is a New York Times and Sunday Times number one bestselling author who has been published worldwide in over twenty-five languages. She lives in north London with her husband, two teenage daughters and the best dog in the world.
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Reviewed in the United States on October 31, 2020
Top reviews from the United States
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There is a feeling of tension and suspense as the reader tries to piece together what has transpired to change this family from a close-knit one to a family geographically scattered and emotionally estranged.
A great read that is hard to put down once started. Subject matter of hoarding is explored with sensitivity and a lack of sensationalism that I very much appreciated. Loved it from beginning to end.
How their lives change and what happens to them and why is revealed slowly and inexorably.The author expertly and delicately peels the layers back for the reader, advancing the heartbreaking family drama that unfolds. Central to it all is Lorelei, whose life goes so out of control that she is unable to help her husband or her children, much less herself. This book is a sensitive look at why people end up as they are. Sometimes, they end up as collateral damage, when their mother finds herself unable to cope with the unkindest cut of all.
This is a a sensitively drawn portrait of a family in so much pain, it goes off the rails. It is about how its individual members find ways of coping with that pain, even if they do not fully understand how or why they got to that point in the first place. The author brilliantly brings it all to a head in the final denouement that makes the reasons for all that happened to this family come together in one moment of startling clarity. Bravo!
I live in Australia, in Sydney,and have done for twenty years. One of the characters in this book lives in Sydney for a time. She lives in "a converted terrace house in Sydney's Spanish Quarter". Ok, first off, there isn't one. We don't get a whole lot of Spanish people here (no clue why), and when we do, there's no Spanish Quarter they have created. Best explanation for this is a one-block stretch of Goulburn St, near Kent, which years ago had three or four Spanish-related restaurants, and at one time there was a sign on a bar there that said Spanish Quarter (although I have never heard anyone refer to it as that - it's just called the CBD). There are absolutely, categorically no terrace houses anywhere near that area. Only newbuild Meriton apartment blocks, a couple of faceless hotels, and some tacky souvenir stores (you get the picture - it's nothing special). Maybe if she had said "Greek area", "Vietnamese enclave" or "Italian suburb", I could have overlooked it. Without needing to be named, I can tell you that she might possibly be referring to Dulwich Hill, Marrickville and Leichhardt, respectively, which all have at least some terrace houses left, so I could have just assumed it was that and been satisfied.
Then, her British boyfriend brings her a Creme Egg - supposedly a gift from home, that he had to go out of his way to find, and that was expensive. Ummmmm no. We all grew up with Creme Eggs, they are stocked in every single supermarket and always have been since my childhood, and they cost about 50 cents each. Maybe a dollar come Easter (yes they are available here year round). There are lots of wonderful British treats that are (or have been in the past) harder to locate - Jaffa Cakes! Twiglets! PG Tips! But no, Creme Eggs are most definitely not one of them.
Has she even been to Australia?
Also, the auther referred to Beth's Mary Janes as sandals. What? Are we thinking of the same shoes?
My point is not that these details matter - they don't in the least, not to the the plot anyway. But the author and the publishers have just skipped over these details, thinking "Ah, close enough." No, not close enough. It's as bad as having typos or punctuation errors. It makes me wonder what else you glossed over, what other erroneous details I might have missed. It takes me out of the story, and makes me dislike (and not respect as much) the author for not considering the details of the piece as a priority. For thinking her readers may not notice, or care. It's just disappointing, that's all.
Tldr: Great book, usually great author. Does not prioritise details, makes me respect her less.
The story is told through a series of flashbacks and from different family members point of view, in third person. Despite this, the story was not confusing at all.
Jewell did a masterful job of creating sympathy for each of the characters - flaws (and oh, they have them) and all.
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I can see why some readers might find the events of this book unbelievable but for me they were spot on.
As I read through the novel there I was. I am Megan; always trying to sort out my mum's mess, failing miserably and feeling constantly guilty. I have moved 200 miles away from my childhood home to save my sanity. I love my mum but I cannot deal with the apathy and squalor.
Since reading the novel I have concluded that, like Loreli, my mum is a narcissist - Lisa Jewell doesn't label her as such but as I was reading it became clear to me; the expectation that everything would and should be done for her. Everyone bending to her needs because in the end it's just easier - I've been there.
My sister is Beth; she is 55, still lives at home and has never had a relationship. She has always felt she cannot leave mum on her own. She has sacrificed her own life and exists in a quasi fantasy world where she believes she is intellectually superior to everyone else and just chooses to be 'quirky'.
They live in a world of their own making - for example the kitchen ceiling collapsed 3 years ago as neither had the wherewithal ago to source a plumber when a leak appeared in the bathroom above 2 years prior to that (even though they had insurance to cover it). They never even cleared the debris up. They waited 3 years for social services to do it.
The novel was so close to my experiences that I was hoping for an answer at the end but, of course, there wasn't one. There isn't an answer; my mum was damaged, through her own set of personal circumstances. Her behaviour is her response; her survival mode if you like.
Our dad left home when I was 10. I don't know if he left my mum because she was like she was or she became that person because he left. Whichever, the damage is done - to me and my sister.
I could go on but this is not my story I just wanted to illustrate that people do live like this and the fallout is traumatic.


I love Lisa Jewell’s writing but I’m finding that my enjoyment of her books comes down to whether I like the characters or not. I struggled to like any of the characters in The Family Upstairs or Invisible Girl because I didn’t feel like they redeemed themselves in the end, but I feel like I’ve just spent a week living through all this drama alongside the family in The House We Grew Up In and have found myself warming to each of them.
What Jewell does best is that she shows the good and bad in all of us by delving deep into her characters’ hearts and minds. Her books are often dark and shocking, but not from using big twists or characters who are complete psychopaths. Instead, she uses very real characters and situations to show how even the most well-rounded person can have a streak of darkness running through them. It doesn’t have to be anything too serious and their actions can be done with good intentions, but we all make mistakes, we sometimes follow the wrong path, and we will all do whatever it takes to protect the ones we love.
While every character in this book does something unforgivable, I felt a lot of sympathy for them all at the same time. They are undoubtedly a messed up family, but I have never met a family who doesn’t have something they want to hide. I was so ready to hate Lorelei but I was also heartbroken by her sole intentions to fill her children’s lives with happy memories. There’s nothing I fear more than my children growing up and resenting me for something, so I could really feel her pain.
And of course there is the issue of Lorelei’s hoarding disorder. As soon as I realised that she was a hoarder, I was hooked. I love to get inside the heads of people with weird habits or dysfunctional mindsets. But of course I knew that people with hoarding disorder tend to have an emotional reason for doing so, so I was gripped to find out what secrets Lorelei was keeping.
I have to admit, the build-up to the “big reveal” was much more nerve-wracking than the reveal itself, but I’m glad Jewell didn’t take things too far. It could have easily overstepped some boundaries just for the sake of giving a big impact at the end, but it instead feels more like a genuine mistake which is what makes it all the more heartbreaking. Jewell deals with the illness with great compassion and her author’s notes are well worth a read afterwards, too.
The Birds are the definition of a dysfunctional family, but God I loved getting to know them. I know this isn’t a lot of people’s favourite Jewell book, but I found it painfully tragic, beautifully captivating and exceptionally moving. I’m still thinking about the lives of these characters days after putting the book down.

Three narratives weave in and out of each other to tell the story. We meet twenty five year old Libby with her little garden flat and her job at the kitchen design company where she’s worked for five years. Everything about Libby says organised, professional and quiet. That is until a bombshell is dropped on her life. Woven with this is the story of Lucy - if that is her real name. She is living in France but at the moment we meet her is homeless along with her two children and the dog. The family are reduced to sneaking in to the beach club to get showered but that doesn’t happen everyday. Lucy is at rock bottom. She can’t husk for money but needs money to collect her violin. They have nothing left to sell. Does she go and ask her violent but rich ex-husband for help? Or does she let the children stay with their grandparents? Either way she needs her violin and once she sees the date, she develops an urgent need to make her way back to London and a certain house in Chelsea.
Our third narrator is Henry, relating what happened at the house back in the early 1990s. Henry just about remembers family life when things were normal and it was just the four of them: mum, dad, Henry and his sister. He has vivid memories of going to private school in his brown knickerbockers and sitting drinking lemonade while his Dad read the newspaper at his club. The house was filled with curiosities such as animal heads, ceremonial swords and red thrones. It’s so distinctive in style that when the money starts to run out the house is scouted as a location for a music video. The fiddle player in the band is Birdie and she loves the house. So much so that when she needs a roof over their head, she and her partner, Justin, come to stay in the upstairs room. Henry’s father has had a stroke and doesn’t have the same strength and power he used to have. He seems to sit by and watch as Birdie and Justin take up residence.
Later another couple join the group. David Thomsen is a man Henry dislikes almost instantly because he seems to sense what his Dad and Justin fail to see. David has charisma and seems to have an effect on every woman in the house. His wife Sally and two children, Phin and Clemency, also join them. It starts to feel like they’re living in a commune but the only consolation is Phin. To Henry, Phin is beautiful with floppy hair, cheekbones and a distinctive style. When Phin takes him shopping, Henry develops a crush and trails after him, wanting to be like him. When it is suddenly announced at the dinner table that David and Birdie are now a couple Henry senses this is the start of something evil. They bring out the worst elements of each other and start to assume a power in the house that goes unchallenged by his parents or the other adults. They are told what they will eat, do and even wear. Henry knows this is out of control and this is only the beginning of the damage this man will inflict in the house.
Libby has been set a letter by a group of solicitors telling her she has been left a house. When the solicitor walks her round to the house she realises she is rich. The house is abandoned, but huge and in prime position. It could be worth millions. The solicitor also gives her a newspaper cutting describing the strange events that took place there exactly twenty five years before. Libby has always known she was adopted, but this tells her she was the lone survivor in the house, tucked in her cot with a lucky rabbits foot under the mattress. Downstairs were three people, dressed all in black and dead from poisoning themselves with belladonna. One was David Thomsen. The news story talks of a cult forming within the house and aside from Libby, whose real name is Serenity, all the children living at the house were missing. Libby feels there is more to this story and wants to meet the journalist who wrote the article. What is the answer to how this happened? And who is sneaking in and out of the attic space at the house? I can understand the seismic effect the arrival of Dave Thomsen had on these children, with repercussions way into adult life. Whether it’s changing who you are to escape, or bouncing from one failed relationship to another or being unable to move on, even geographically, they are all responses to trauma. With a brief nod to the future at the end of the book the author does leave a tiny seed of hope that in future generations a type of healing can be reached. This is a dark, disturbing, look at how sometimes home is the most dangerous place to be.