Author Jane Alison introduces us to her best childhood friend, Jenny, in her memoir, The Sisters Antipodes. In fact Jenny’s and Jane’s families strike up the kind of friendship that has them barbecuing together every evening. After all, they have so much in common. Both fathers are diplomats, one Australian, one American. Both families have two girls, who pair up as same-aged playmates.

Then the parents divorce and — criss-cross! — marry each other. Each new couple has a son — within months of each other.

The twisty twin events of these families’ lives is surreal. They’re either doing exactly the same things, or living precisely opposite one another on the globe as they report to their diplomatic postings.

There’s the normal divorced-family visitations, only weirder. It takes years for the children to name what’s bothering them, what’s missing. It takes years for the resentments to rise to the surface. You gave her money for that? You took her phone call but not mine?

Meanwhile Jane and Jenny fill the holes in their souls with Daddy-substitutes and destructive substances. And all the while, these girls wonder which parent did what first.

Alison reaches often for rich imagery. Too often, in fact. It’s a bit like too many croutons in the soup.

I don’t know whether to call her lucky or not. Messed up childhoods hand you ready-made memoir material. Then again, they leave you messed up.

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