Gone Girl

"I hovered in the doorway, watching my wife. Her yellow-butter hair was pulled up, the hank of ponytail swinging cheerful as a jump-rope, and she was sucking distractedly on a burnt fingertip, humming around it. She hummed to herself because she was an unrivaled botcher of lyrics. When we were first dating, a Genesis song came on the radio: 'She seems to have an invisible touch, yeah.' And Amy crooned instead, 'She takes my hat and puts it on the top shelf.' When I asked her why she’d ever think her lyrics were remotely, possibly, vaguely right, she told me she always thought the woman in the song truly loved the man because she put his hat on the top shelf. I knew I liked her then, really liked her, this girl with an explanation for show more everything.

There’s something disturbing about recalling a warm memory and feeling utterly cold."

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn isn't high literature, but it has its approaching moments. A familiar premise gets torqued: boy meets girl, boy loses girl, neither boy nor girl seem to be who we thought they were, and there is something horribly, horribly wrong.

Some facts are reliable: Married Nick and Amy are both ex-magazine writers who lived in NYC and whose jobs were undone by the slicing and dicing impact of the Internet. Unfortunate family events in Nick's hometown Missouri cause them to move back. Nick operates a bar with his sister Go (Margo) and Amy . . . flounders, away from New York. Then she goes missing and Nick starts looking suspicious. What happened? Is she dead? Is he responsible? Is something else entirely going on? Readers all over the country are flying through the pages of this book, mesmerized by Nick and Amy, and desperate to find out the true story. After more twists than I remember seeing before in a book, the reader does find out. But wait, there's more. And it may not be Mrs. Bates turning around in a rocking chair, but if you're like me, the ending will run a chill right up your spine. show less

I don't think I've ever experienced feelings of such extreme dislike, annoyance, and incredulousness straddle the two pivotal characters of a book while reading, ever. That could be a stretch. But my thoughts regarding the sociopathic and egotistical essences of these characters are still marinating and I'm still processing the psychopathy that effects the entire plot of this book. I found this imbalance and confusion and constant questioning of motive entertaining, though, and I couldn't stop reading. I loved the shifts in narration and time, the voice of fabricated Amy and the revealing of real Amy, and the lack of commiseration with Nick; 'cause let's be real, that guy is just a major douche. I'm not saying Amy is any better, but show more god, Nick royally infuriated me, and maybe that's simply because I am too familiar with a few Nicks irl. Gone Girl was thrilling, addictive, and at points shockingly real. Definitely a lot of fun to read. show less

When Amy Dunne goes missing on her fifth wedding anniversary, all clues point to her perfect husband. Upon discovery of her diary, the secrets resting within its pages do little to exonerate Nick Dunne: in fact, they only further implicate him. As days go by, people begin to assume the worst: Amy is dead. With nothing to prove himself innocent, Nick is left to fend for himself in this emotionally tumultuous journey that is pock-marked with hairpin turns.

Like many others that have picked up Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl, I succumbed to the hype that Flynn’s fanbase created for this novel. I was not prepared. I was not ready emotionally to read something like this, and I truly wish that those that suggested I peruse its pages had warned show more me about the journey that I was about to embark on. To say that Gone Girl is a thrilling, twisting read is an understatement; it is far worse than that. As someone who has been through a few rough spots and plenty of bad relationships, I can only say this: if your wounds have not yet scarred over, hold off. I cried, I screamed, I suffered a massive panic attack, and I nearly threw my iPad in the time it took me to read this novel, because, as I said, I was not prepared.

There is no doubt in my mind that Gillian Flynn is an excellent writer. Never before have I encountered a story so well written that I simultaneously hated and loved it. My own adverse reactions aside, the mere fact that Flynn is able to so easily rile her readers to the point that they’d like to set the characters of Gone Girl on fire is, on its own, a testament to her craft. Honestly, I can’t blame anyone that feels that way (in fact, I feel the same way and I’d love to light them up), and here is why: Flynn pays homage to the old saying that there are three sides to every story: his side, her side, and the truth. That said, there are, in fact, three sides to this story, only two of them are from the same character.

Amy’s diary paints us a pretty clear picture of her: every year, she plays a game with her husband and at the end of it, there is a prize. She is something to be envied, and something to be treasured. Her life, thanks to her parents, is full of misery. Amy hasn’t always made the right choices, and she feels slighted by her parents because their Amazing Amy books appear to make a mockery of her life. Because these books were, throughout her younger years, best sellers, Amy has to deal with an obsessive ex-boyfriend and a once best-friend that wishes she was Amy.

As I read along with her diary entries, I began to identify with her in the worst way possible. Like myself, Amy feels worthless. As if she isn’t enough, and no matter how hard she tries, she never will be. She has shoes to fill that are far too big and a husband that seems to be growing bored with her. Nick is distant, and only seems interested in her when he wants sex. She begins to fear for her life, citing Nick’s explosive anger as a reason to feel so unsafe that she attempts to acquire a run. In a desperate, last-ditch effort to rekindle their romance, she goes all out on their yearly treasure hunt, even beginning the day with crepes.

Nick, on the other hand, is referred to by some as a “golden boy.” He’s married into money and, alongside his job at The Bar, teaches at a local campus. When he comes home to find his wife gone, he is distraught – or rather, he should be. It is clear from his point of view that he is, to some degree, worried, but because of his own dark secrets, finds it difficult to behave appropriately in front of the big screen. Naturally, as Amy’s disappearance goes national, news show hosts become critical of his actions, and ultimately, we learn that Nick is a cheater. He has every motive to end his wife’s life, and as we continue through the story, all the evidence piles up against him. Because I was able to identify so well with Amy, the discovery of Nick’s infidelity hit me hard: it has been just over a year since my engagement ended because my fiancé cheated on me. Our relationship fell apart in much the same way that Amy and Nick Dunne’s marriage appears to in Gone Girl. The situation is so bad that Nick is forced to hire Tanner Bolt, famed defender of the guilty.

Or so I thought. We follow Amy’s saga up until the day of her disappearance, and then, not unlike a bug colliding with a windshield, Flynn throws a curve ball at us in the form of Amy’s post-disappearance point-of-view. Okay, that might have been a horrid metaphor, but what I’m getting at is the fact that Flynn spends more than half the book convincing us that Amy is in danger while simultaneously giving us reasons to doubt her, and then, without warning, releases the real Amy upon us. After identifying with Amy in the manner that I did, I couldn’t help but feel completely and totally repulsed to see those same similarities because, unlike Amy, I am not a psychopath, and she is the very definition of the word.

There is nothing that Amy won’t stoop to in order to get what she wants, and we learn this as she manipulates everyone and everything around her so thoroughly that there can be no doubt regarding her innocence. The world loves her, and the world does not know the monster she truly is. She is meticulous in her set-up, and when she determines that Nick has suffered enough, and not until after she’s used and abused her so called “stalker” ex-boyfriend – and it gets worse. Far worse.

The sole comedic relief comes in the form of Nick’s twin sister, Margo. It is because of Go that I was able to occasionally take a step back from the severity of the story, from my pounding heart and blind rage, to relax and, on occasion laugh. She is perhaps the most sane, down-to-earth character in the insane mess that is Flynn’s Gone Girl.

Aside from how disturbing the reality of Amy Elliott Dunn is, or how realistically Nick is portrayed, the only bone I really have to pick with Gone Girl is the way in which it is told. I’m not that big of a fan of alternating point-of-views, though I do tolerate them. The way in which Gone Girl alternates, on the other hand, is absolutely dreadful. The only constant timeline throughout the story is Nick’s, if you subtract Amy’s from it. While his remains steady, we are constantly thrust back in time to see Amy’s side of things, until ultimately, we catch up. I found this to be distracting, and while it did not make the book unreadable, it was most definitely unpleasant.

And then of course, there’s the ending. That was no resolution, and it most definitely fell way too flat. Supposedly, Flynn’s other books are better, so I’ll have to read those too. Eventually, I’ll watch the movie to see how it adds up. show less

This book can be frustrating to read at times because obviously neither Nick or Amy or great people, but they're not really meant to be self inserts for the reader. It isn't meant to be a clear-cut story where one party is clearly at fault and the other is the villain the reader is supposed to hate. They are people from opposite ends of society that grow up quite differently from the other, but both are influenced from family trauma and expectation that influence their personalities that inevitably seep into their relationship and clash. As they both change and reveal more of their true personalities, communication simultaneously breaks down at it's core, and we constantly see conflicting view points through the chapters of the book. Of show more course this book is an extreme case, but it doesn't make the fact any less true, and makes the ending all the more fitting as bitter and sad as it is.

What made this book five stars for me was the way Flynn told the story through two POVs while maintaining to keep their personalities and thought processes unique. Especially when as each character develops through the story and you start to see more of their more true thoughts and personalities. The book would not have nearly been as effective if the character chapters weren't able to remain so distinct.

I haven't read any of Gillian Flynn's other books yet, this was my first, but I will most likely be looking into her other books after this. show less

After Devouring the Film.

I actually watched the film nearly a month ago, but never got round to, er, 'reviewing' (?) it. Sometimes, my laziness amazes me.



T'is me.

Moving on.

I went to watch the movie with beyond low expectations. Movie adaptations can either be ginormous farts or all confetti and glitter and awesomeness. Gone Girl was both, but the farts were the child-excited ones, because it was amazing.



The actors played Nick & Amy perfectly and my friend, who hadn't read the book and had no idea what the film was about, was hypnotised by the mindfuck relationship and story line.



I think the only thing I would change about the film was the music, which seemed to pop up at the most awkward times, and sometimes the music didn't sync to the show more scene. As in, echo-y, mournful music to an up-beat, angry scene. You know? It might just be me, but whatever.

So yeah, 4/5 to the film! And my rating for the book is staying the same because I still want to shove a cactus up Nick's butt.



Look at that smarmy face. I just want to punch it.





DO NOT CLICK ON THE SPOILER TAGS IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE BOOK. I'VE WARNED YOU.

"There’s something disturbing about recalling a warm memory and feeling utterly cold."

Hi! I'm Nick Dunne, and I'm a fucking asshole. I guess that -- considering I admit that I'm an asshole -- it should make me less of an asshole. I have a cleft chin, which I like to mention in passing (don't women find it adorable? The cleft chin? The proper American-boy thing?) and I'm a goddamn asshole. I'm such a huge asshole that I took my wife away from New York, dragged her to my childhood town in Missouri and then decided to have an affair, rather than divorce her and give her a happier, better future, because I'm a fucking asshole. I'm a selfish mama's boy who likes to get his own way, much like my wife, because I've been babied and petted my entire life -- but I won't admit that to those who matter! Ho ho ho! Because I'm not actually the baby of the family, I'm older by a whole three minutes. Oh yeah, I have a twin sister, Go, and she thinks I'm an asshole, too. In fact, she thinks I'm such a huge dickweed that she likes to tell me this every so often. I'm also the asshole who treats my father, who has Alzheimer's, like shit because he's an asshole, who passed his stupid, annoying fucking genetics onto me and made me an asshole. So I hate him. I'm like a prepubescent child who hates everything and everyone and yes, maybe I did murder my wife, because why the fuck not.

Dear Diary,

I am scared. I am terrified. Because I'm a psycho bitch who is trying to frame my husband for my murder. There is no wrath like a woman scorned, amirite? He's a lying, cheating, philandering, spineless bastard who got his just desserts. No, I am not a psycho bitch. No, I do not see any harm in trying to trap my husband in a loveless marriage while he screws his pretty, young student and ruins everything we built. No, OF COURSE I am not a spoiled rich brat! Yes, I do hate my parents for getting rich off my life. It's okay, I will punish them, too, much like I punished everyone who has ever dared turn against me.

I am a calculating bitch. I know what makes my husband tick, I know his patterns; it's like studying an animal in its natural habitat... I even know how many times he pisses in a day. A fascinating study on how to make the Cheating Bastard pay.

He doesn't know that, though. He thinks I'm dumb, too busy baking cupcakes and playing nice with our little shit neighbourhood, too stupid to realise he's screwing away, coming home with some slut's scent on his skin...

He doesn't know that I am under his skin. I will RUIN him.

Nick again!

My wife is missing. I'm not bothered though, I never really liked her anyway. Like a broken toy. I played with her, I unscrewed her and now, poof! She's gone. I should really try to cooperate more, instead of wallowing in self pity, be an asshole and screw my mistress, but I shan't. Instead, I will get drunk, cry to my poor, poor twin sister then go balls deep between the legs of a girl who has fallen in love with me.

I am an asshole.

Dear Diary,

The plan is in place and the man shall suffer! I can't wait to see him unravel and be torn to pieces by the rabid, hungry, desperate public. I cannot wait to see how they make me a glorious, wonderful, loveable saint and he, a demon. I can't wait!

In fact, I'm currently holing up in some cabin on a lake (very Hollywood!) where no one know's not'in and no one asks not'in. However, I have made friends with a poor, abused bitch and a weird fishy guy. Literally. We watch the Ellen Abbott show and cry over that poor, poor girl, Amazing Amy, mysteriously missing... and all the clues point to her cheating, philandorous husband! The horror, the shame!

I love it.

I am in trouble. I am a trouble asshole. Every clue, everything, points to me. I am the husband who murdered his wife and threw away her body in the river, thanks to a web search I did when I was thinking about writing a book... I say thinking, because I suck at everything and I never go through with anything. In fact, for four years of marriage, it was always yes dear, sure dear, anything you want honey because I cannot for the life of me do something decent with my life. In the shower, I have a wank, then I go to the kitchen and have a drink, go to The Bar (hurrhurr we thought we were BRAINY and COOL and possibly slightly HIPSTER so we could appeal to the younger public! Aren't we funny?!) and do a few hours work because I am a waste of space, then come home, bitch at my wife used to bitch at my wife and go to bed. If I didn't go out and screw my mistress.

Anyway, I am in trouble. But I am innocent.

I think.

_____________________________________________________

After reading the above, how do you feel?

a) Confused?
b) Angry?
c) All of the above?
d) All of the above and more?

If you answered D, ding-ding-ding! We have a winner, because Gone Girl is a huge, confusing, messy clusterfuck of mini and large mindfucks. If you think you know, forget it, because you don't. I went into the book thinking, "Okay, okay. I can see where this is going. Very clever."

But the truth is, I didn't see where this is going. It was a lie. Everything you read is a ginormous, stinking lie. There is literally nothing you can... let me rephrase that: nothing you read can be can be trusted. I am giving you fair warning.

It's the day of Nick and Amy Dunne's 5th anniversary. There are crepes and mentions of love in the air... until Nick gets home and his wife is... mysteriously... gone.

Much atmosphere, very ooooh.

I hate Nick with the burning intensity of a thousand suns. He's an asshole, a prick and I would skewer him with a hot poker if I could. Right through the belly button and I'll even spin him around for a little bit, so he can get the full 360 feel of it. He is the exact reason why some women have commitment issues. He is the embodiment of the lying, two-faced man that will ruin your life. He's the man who will take take take and never give, never say thank you ... he will projectile vomit over your dreams, everything you love and he will isolate you from the world.

He will hurt you.

He is that man cockroach.

Gone Girl is the book you cannot talk much about without seriously spoilering the life out of people, so I will keep the rest of this review brief. Gillian Flynn says she loves Nick so I am not sure whether she ever intended to make him such a dislikeable, horrible character, but if she did it worked incredibly well. I never felt an ounce of sympathy for him.

Okay, maybe once. Once. That's it.

All I'm going to say is: this book was worth the... four days it took me to get through it, and that's just because I didn't like Nick. I sometimes had to physically remove myself from the room where the book was, in case I did something crazy, like burn it. But this book is so, so, so worth the migraine at the end. It's worth the bottle of wine you will drink whilst rubbing your temples and thinking, what the shit? It is worth the emotional hangover you will have in the morning.

SO worth it. show less

For once a book that lived up to the hype. Not only a page-turning thriller, but an essay on dating, relationships, social-media, and the all-pervasive role of tv and film in contemporary life.

Well-written, thought-provoking, knowing and manipulative, and very entertaining. Gillian Flynn has a very clear-sighted and amusing understanding of men and women.

This book seems to be one that divides people. Personally, I loved it.

I saw the film before I read the book, and enjoyed the film, so going in to Gone Girl I knew what to expect and knew the premise of the book was something that captivated me. Seeing the film and knowing the plot didn't dampen my enjoyment of the book either, this is a story that relies so intensely on the little details, the book turns out to be a very different experience of the same story.

The book is better than the film (isn't it always?). Getting well and truly into the heads of these two twisted, severely unlikeable characters is a dark, mesmerising and sickly enjoyable journey. They are expertly crafted entities.

The whole thing is a little like watching a car show more crash. It's awful, and yet you can't turn away. And for a crime thriller that's exactly the sort of thing I want!

The writing is great. It's self-aware, both characters are writers, so the air of pretence works perfectly. It is colloquial, conversational, each character speaking directly to you which emphasises the whole he-said-she-said narrative.

Overall Gone Girl is clever, captivating and thoroughly twisted. Five stars. show less