Set in a country town located one hour from Melbourne, Privacy is told through the eyes of Wren Fox, an artless man approaching middle age. When not caring for his ageing, demented mother, he works for Richard Stanley as an assistant in his luthiery, and as a caretaker of the Stanley family’s holiday home, Ashmore House. Though seemingly asexual, Wren has long been infatuated with Richard’s elder sister, Madeline. When Wren discovers Madeline’s two blogs, one detailing her sexual exploits and the other her battle with an insistent stalker, his simple world view is gradually supplanted by a growing obsession.

For a novel that deals with privacy, something that we fiercely protect, the narrative style is intriguing. Wren’s naïve observations and inscrutable motivations do little to engage the reader’s emotions. Even Madeline, the object of his obsession, seems curiously unworthy of worship. But as the story progresses, this detached, plain-spoken style begins to engage intellectually; despite the first-person narration, we are watching Wren, observing his private obsession, and being forced to analyse it.

At this cerebral level, Privacy is engaging. Although it misses the opportunity to fully explore the Internet’s role in facilitating exhibitionism and voyeurism, Privacy succeeds in examining the relationship between privacy, sexual passion, and morality. The vaguely puritanical suggestion that obsession is not harmful when devoid of sexual longing is less than convincing, but Privacy is crafted with intelligence and is rich in intrigue.