When you get trapped in a black hole you change … You never get back to normal. And this is called spaghettification. That’s another link between my dad and black holes: my dad makes some great spaghetti pastas.

To disrupt, or haunt, Ashbury High, a pair of scholarship students, Amelia and Riley, appear. Speculation and gossip swirl around them, especially when it transpires that the two have come from the despised neighbouring government school, Brookfield (shades of Summer Heights High). Nothing is known about them and, even among those administering their scholarships, controversy and tempers flare about why they were chosen (we are subjected to long, pointless minutes of the committee’s acrimonious meetings). Amelia and Riley turn out to be exceptionally talented at sport, art, and drama. The mystery surrounding them propels the action, such as it is. The two influence those around them in subtle ways, and tantalising but conflicting clues about their likely pasts are planted. Are they a couple, ex-criminals, or ghosts? Are rumours about madness, suicides, and tragic pasts true? To confuse readers further, Riley also presents a sharp and less than flattering outsider’s view:

Em was hysterical, melodramatic and not very bright. Sheltered all her life, she’d stayed a little girl. Cass was quiet, and essentially pointless. And Lydia was one of those spoiled rich kids who know absolutely nothing, but put on a cool and cynical face because they think they know it all. None of them was worth a thing. None of them was real.

Nothing about a private school is real. Those people are all playing roles; they’re all playing at life.

Tough words, indeed, but is Riley himself real or even a reliable narrator?

Perhaps readers want to reacquaint themselves with these characters because they live recognisable lives and sound familiar. Moriarty understands, and is convincing when addressing the importance and dynamics of teenage friendships. Her characters comment in voices and ways that speak directly to readers. Their tone can be knowing and self-deprecating, or wistful and uncertain.

Above all, teenagers might warm to the constant exchanges of communication and the intense speculation (including about teachers and other adults) via emails, blogs, texts, notes, talk and even school assignments. This is how Moriarty’s books are constructed. It is refreshing to see the author’s confidence in her readers, but it is unfortunate that she does not provide them with any real substance or a coherent narrative. Even the historical convict section that Moriarty has researched so carefully lacks a clear sense of place or purpose in the novel.

Like other Moriarty books, this one is full of smart observations, wit, and humour. However, most of this is buried in an overblown, baggy 520-page book – at least 200 pages too long. Despite being an admirer of Moriarty’s work, I found this book a chore and almost impossible to finish. Much of it read like an unfocused and undisciplined blog. Let’s hope that Moriarty, with her next book, has at her disposal a good pair of shears, a flashing delete button – and a forceful editor. It is probably time to leave the Ashbury crowd behind. Enough already!