Finishing None of This Is True brought back that familiar feeling I get whenever I start a Lisa Jewell novel: a deep, chilling unease that lingers even after the final page. It doesn’t feel like a clean ending more like a door left ajar. You sense that this isn’t truly “over,” yet the idea of a Part 2 would almost feel unnecessary, even forced. The discomfort is intentional. The story ends exactly where it needs to: unresolved, unsettling, and haunting.

At its core, the book highlights how powerful and dangerous the human mind can be. We all carry our own versions of the truth, but those truths don’t always align with reality or with each other. Josie is the extreme embodiment of this idea. She twists her narrative so convincingly that even she may no longer know what’s real and what she has fabricated. In trying to control the story, she blurs the line between memory and invention, until truth becomes flexible and self-serving. Despite her efforts to cover every angle, cracks and loopholes remain proof that no lie is ever perfectly sealed.

What makes the novel even more disturbing is its use of unreliable narration. Almost everyone’s account feels questionable, fragmented, or biased. Perspective becomes a weapon. Ironically, Alix—who is framed as the observer and documentarian—may be the only one not actively manipulating the truth, yet she’s also the one left most exposed and damaged by it.

By the end, I am left suspended in doubt. What actually happened, and what was carefully constructed? Who deserves our belief, and who doesn’t? Walter’s fate remains disturbingly unclear. Why did Josie ultimately choose him, and what truly happened behind closed doors? The unanswered questions surrounding Nathan and Josie’s time together add another layer of unease, suggesting a pattern that was never fully uncovered.

Most haunting of all is Alix’s lack of closure. There is no real justice for her—no clear vindication, no solid answers. Josie controls even her disappearance, denying Alix the peace of resolution. The story doesn’t just end; it leaves a residue of doubt, forcing us to sit with uncertainty.

And maybe that’s the point.

Because in the end, just like the title suggests, none of this is entirely true—and that realization is what makes the book so deeply disturbing.

What a great way to end the year.