Gone Girl

It was largely what I expected, plus some, plus a whole lot more I did not expect. I enjoyed it. By halfway through, it was hard to put down!

Gone Girl is what you'd expect from the title, initially. The Amazing Amy, a beautiful woman married to a sharp bright man, a perfect match it would seem, has gone missing on the morning of their fifth anniversary. What I did not expect was the fast-paced and intricate detailing and plot-twisting that ensued in the fast-paced narrative that follows the initial disappearance. The story in Gone Girl is made more complex and engaging as the story is told both from the perspective of Amy herself, and her husband Nick, though this too is complicated, as the perspectives shift and twist as the story unfolds, the sensational story of the husband trying to bring his wife home in the midst of overwhelming evidence continually pointing to him as the murderer husband.

But is his cluelessness farced? Why is he so calm in the face of his wife's sudden and violent disappearance? And then there is Amy’s side of the story, as we read her diary and thoughts leading up to her disappearance.

By the end, I had no idea what to expect anymore. Gone Girl is thrilling and psychological throws a fascinated distorted light on intelligence and relationships between clever people.

Das Buch war für mich vor allem eines: Pure Frustration!
Zugegebenermaßen bin ich schon mit falschen Erwartungen an dieses Buch herangegangen. Es handelt sich nämlich nicht um einen Thriller, sondern um einen Roman. Okay, steht auch drauf, aber das habe ich irgendwie nicht realisiert oder verdrängt. Der Schwerpunkt liegt also nicht auf der Lösung des Entführungs-/ Vermisstenfalls (was da abgeht, kann man sich nämlich schon nach 100 Seiten denken), sondern auf der Hetzjagd auf den Ehemann, in dem alle den Täter sehen. (Denn, wie könnte es anders sein, wir alle, die wir Aktenzeichen XY oder so schauen wissen, der Täter ist fast immer der Partner.) Die Parts, in denen eben diese Medienhetze beschrieben wird, sind sehr gut. Sie sind schlussendlich auch prinzipiell das Einzige, was mir an diesem Buch gefallen hat. Die Figuren waren entweder flach oder zu viel des Guten (aka totales Klischee) und größtenteils total geisteskrank. Das Ende war dann noch verrückter als der Rest und nicht mal vor dem Hintergrund der Geschichte glaubwürdig. Außerdem blieben meiner Meinung nach viele Fragen über das Leben von Nebencharakteren offen, was mich zusätzlich frustriert hat.

Nick and Amy, the perfectly in love couple. Moved back from New York after losing their jobs in the publishing industry, they try to make a new life in Nick's childhood hometown. Then Amy goes missing on their fifth wedding anniversary, and questions and suspicions come to life, as their marriage isn't what anyone thought it was.

This is a crazy, schizophrenic novel, and so is this review. Bear with me, as my two-star rating may not give a clear picture of my thoughts on it. This novel operates on two levels--the fiction level, and what I believe is an unintentional, postmodern metafiction level--but it's a perfect example of a bad story and a perfect metaphor for a bad marriage.

The novel starts off like all marriages do, with a lot of hope. There's witty writing and an enjoyable narrative style, not unlike good conversation. Expectations are high and the future looks good. It gets our attention right at the outset, and we are infatuated. However, after a while, we start to see a few flaws, but we overlook them because we're still in love with the writing and possibilities. We cut the writer some slack. There is foreshadowing of the clusterfuck that is to come, but we read on in denial, hoping things will get better just around the corner. Then serious problems arise (about the halfway point). From then on, the story is either high or low for the characters, just like a bad marriage--the highs are unnaturally exhilarating because the lows are so draining. And this is taxing. It becomes almost unbearable. There is a last ditch attempt at the end to turn it around, but it doesn't undo the torment. The novel, like a bad marriage, is over.

Without any sarcasm, I actually recommend everyone read this bad novel for what it can tell us about marriage, particularly a bad marriage in decline. Some may say the mid point may negate any constructive discourse of marriage in the early parts, but I still think it's relevant in a We'll always have Paris sort of way. My recommendation is to take a break after finishing Part One (about the 50% point) and reflect on everything you've read, because the honeymoon is over. After this, it becomes a John Grisham-like structure, where everything is either going their way or everything is going against them. The intelligence and poignancy is over, and the bitterness sets in.

The main characters are mildly interesting, but there really isn't much depth, and the secondary characters are forgettable. It was hard to remember which police officer was which for the bulk of the novel, and the in-laws were a cliche. The scheme within the novel is airtight and brilliant, but the actual events of the novel are not delved into in much detail. It hardly feels like a missing-person investigation, as so many of those elements are simply not there. Even the last half glosses over the relevant necessities to make it feel real to the reader. Atmosphere definitely is not a strength of this novel, as it feels a major part of the middle--the completeness, the experience, the understanding--is missing. Nor does the author play fair within the first-person narrative, hiding information in an completely unnatural way merely for suspense, and then offering up an overt excuse in the narrative that the character likes the lie of omission.

By the time we get to the end, it is a bad story that is surprisingly beneficial to any married person who reads it. I'd recommend this novel to anyone over 18, just don't expect much from the story. It's like a darker version of John Grisham, without the lawyers. It is also my new go-to suggestion for any guy contemplating marriage...and I say that without any trace of irony. We learn so much about a bad marriage.

I'm also very glad a woman wrote this novel, and not a man.

To get it out of the way: this book is not for people who think that books should only feature likeable people. (This review is not for people who think that books should only feature likeable people; this reviewer is not for people who think that books should only feature likeable people.) But if you're like me and you like unlikeable people in your books, you'll like this book.

I was thrilled by the first part of this book: unreliable narration is one of my favorite literary techniques; unreliable narration being used to make the narrators look good is even more fun and a pair of unreliable narrators each distorting the narration in their favor was compelling reading that went beyond the normal tenets of mystery novels to speak to the distance between who we are and who we want to be. In this first part, both Nick and Amy, taking turns narrating are both completely unlikeable and completely relatable. One of the parts that sticks out from here: Amy complaining that she's mad at Nick but she doesn't want to be mad so she ends up even madder because she's mad that now he made her mad. Chilling: clearly terribly emotionally manipulative, but at the same time I think most people can relate to that feeling where you had planned on handling a difficult situation calmly and maturely and it doesn't end up that way and the spiral that ensues. I like that by the end of part one, it was really clear to me that my two major suspects in Amy's disappearance were the narrators and one of them knew something that they weren't telling. It was clever and novel.

The second and third parts of the book are just less interesting. The narration stops being unreliable (except for maybe Amy's relationship with Desi -- I was definitely skeptical of her depiction) and I found the solution to the mystery less interesting: sociopaths are the stuff of fiction but for a novel that is trying to be gritty and show compellingly, realistically flawed characters, true absolutely-no-empathy-do-whatever's-in-my-best-interest sociopathy really has no place (I decided not to spoiler tag this: I don't think it actually gives anything away.) I wanted the culprit in Amy's disappearance to be, like the first part of the book, a flawed but ultimately relatable person.

Overall, I'm glad I read it; it probably deserves the hype for trying some very cool and original ideas in terms of narration, and I'll be interested in reading Flynn's other work.

"I know, I know, I’m being a girl."

People like this book. A lot seem to really enjoy it. I know David Fincher is on his way to direct a filmed version of the book.

I can't like it. The book, at its core, is a version of Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes short story called "b:Sherlock Holmes: The Problem of Thor Bridge|19768504|Sherlock Holmes The Problem of Thor Bridge|Arthur Conan Doyle|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1387755528s/19768504.jpg|27809969". Having said that, I'm surprised with how inundated I was with the author's attempts to make Amy a hip character, but really ended up with a faded, dated person; sure, I think some things were sweetly - and horridly also, in a good sense of the word - described in the book, to a good extent, but when most of the words in this story are filler for a good plot, I wish it could have been better than this.

There are so many author's tricks applied throughout the book, reading it felt like a 100 yard hurdle race.

Also, I'm a bit concerned with many of the antifeministic things in the book, dialogue or not:

It’s a very female thing, isn’t it, to take one boys’ night and snowball it into a marital infidelity that will destroy our marriage?

I know, I know, I know that losing a job is incredibly stressful, and particularly for a man ...

‘I hope you have friends, relatives, who are looking out for you during this, Nick,’ she said, swatting a horsefly. ‘Men forget to take care of themselves. Comfort food is what you need.’

I thought the unkind thought, one of those that burbled up beyond my control. I thought: Women are fucking crazy. No qualifier: Not some women, not many women. Women are crazy.

I didn’t give you the benefit of the doubt: that no matter how much you and I blunder, you always love me and want me to be happy. And that should be enough for any girl, right?

You don’t ever want to be the wife who keeps her husband from playing poker – you don’t want to be the shrew with the hair curlers and the rolling pin.

Gilpin rolled his eyes toward me; I almost expected him to make a joke – sounds like someone’s on the rag – the guy was laying it on so thick.

"I know, I know, I’m being a girl."

People like this book. A lot seem to really enjoy it. I know David Fincher is on his way to direct a filmed version of the book.

I can't like it. The book, at its core, is a version of Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes short story called "[b:Sherlock Holmes: The Problem of Thor Bridge|19768504|Sherlock Holmes The Problem of Thor Bridge|Arthur Conan Doyle|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1387755528s/19768504.jpg|27809969]". Having said that, I'm surprised with how inundated I was with the author's attempts to make Amy a hip character, but really ended up with a faded, dated person; sure, I think some things were sweetly - and horridly also, in a good sense of the word - described in the book, to a good extent, but when most of the words in this story are filler for a good plot, I wish it could have been better than this.

There are so many author's tricks applied throughout the book, reading it felt like a 100 yard hurdle race.

Also, I'm a bit concerned with many of the antifeministic things in the book, dialogue or not:

It’s a very female thing, isn’t it, to take one boys’ night and snowball it into a marital infidelity that will destroy our marriage?

I know, I know, I know that losing a job is incredibly stressful, and particularly for a man [...]

‘I hope you have friends, relatives, who are looking out for you during this, Nick,’ she said, swatting a horsefly. ‘Men forget to take care of themselves. Comfort food is what you need.’

I thought the unkind thought, one of those that burbled up beyond my control. I thought: Women are fucking crazy. No qualifier: Not some women, not many women. Women are crazy.

I didn’t give you the benefit of the doubt: that no matter how much you and I blunder, you always love me and want me to be happy. And that should be enough for any girl, right?

You don’t ever want to be the wife who keeps her husband from playing poker – you don’t want to be the shrew with the hair curlers and the rolling pin.

Gilpin rolled his eyes toward me; I almost expected him to make a joke – sounds like someone’s on the rag – the guy was laying it on so thick.