I have just finished reading Gone Girl, after attempting to draw it out for as long as possible
so that I would still have something to do when I am in France and the
internet decides to stop working. But it was so hard to put down! I genuinely
haven’t found a book this brilliantly written and thought provoking for a long
time. Sure, I like my exciting but trashy crime novels, yet the quality of that
writing certainly doesn’t match up to this.
The best thing about this novel is that there is no messing
around. Within a couple of chapters, the reader is presented with the
problem/crisis. For the rest of the novel, one is presented with pieces of
information, literally interwoven between the alternate narratives of Amy and
Nick. A part from a few characters in the more classic novels, like Victor
Frankenstein in Frankenstein for
example, I have never, ever had such
a turmoil over who to trust, which narrator is reliable, which story is real.
So here come the SPOILERS… And you really do not want to
spoil this book for yourself. My summarised verdict is right at the end of this
post, minus any spoilers.
Right from the start, I honestly did really want to like
Nick. But the “lies” kept creeping in and that absolutely did what it was meant
to for me- I began to wholeheartedly distrust him and wanted to scream, “Just tell
the truth goddammit!” I got so frustrated with how annoyingly ignorant he could
be to his situation. I’m sure I wasn’t alone in my exasperation after he gave
that ridiculous smile at the first press conference- who does that?! But at the same time, I desperately wanted him to sort
himself out because I think I knew he was innocent, even when it was initially
set up to make him look guilty, it just wasn’t quite right.
Being a literature student, throughout the entire book, I was
aiming to be one step ahead, to spot the clues when they were given, and to
pick apart these characters. I was successful in some of my thinking: for
instance, early on I decided Amy was alive; I thought Nick was having an
affair; and at the end, when Desi came back into the picture, I realised pretty
quickly he would be the solution. But I can’t work out whether these deductions
were a result of being subtly directed by Flynn, or the result of some good
literature skills. It’s at times like these, I wish I could read a book for the
first time without over-analysing everything.
(At this point, my good friend would probably say: #litstudentproblems.)
When I suspected Nick of the affair, it practically coincided
with the explosive words “I’m so much happier now that I’m dead. Technically,
missing” which confirmed Amy was alive. These words gave me an incredible sense
of female empowerment as I thought: my god, you clever girl, it serves him
right. Yet this was another way that Flynn played with her readers: after a few
more chapters, instead of thinking ‘heroine’, I was thinking ‘psycho’. In many
ways, Amy was the strong feminist character, from the moment we discover she’s
alive, to the realisation that she is literally kind of crazy. She has her
reasons sure, but I suppose what has deemed this book a thriller is that she
doesn’t deal with these issues in a sane and levelled manner. Hats off to her
though, the plan she does create is bloody brilliant. It’s just a shame that it
ended up sacrificing feminine authority a bit, but perhaps what partly makes
this novel such a page turner is how difficult it is predict where Flynn will
go next. And making Amy a mentally unsound, revenge-driven wife was certainly
not on that list of predictions.
I significantly remember reading most of this novel with my
eyebrows knitted together in confusion, and concentration. Trying to work out
who did what, who was to blame, who to trust was a constant turmoil. There were
obvious gaps in Nick’s narrative, and Amy’s diary entries got my feminist side
up so that he further plummeted in my estimations. And yet there was something
holding me back on trusting Amazing Amy. She was just too perfect, and yet
ironically, I agreed with everything that she said about not being the whiney
wife and allowing her husband to do his own thing. But I suppose this is all to
do with the theme running throughout the narrative about one’s own identity,
and whether it is inherent, or whether it’s something we can create ourselves…
This leads me to the “Cool Girl” chapter: one of my absolute
favourite parts. It’s an impressive comment
on the social constructions of today. Actually, it is almost wrong that I call
it social constructions because it is
individual men and women who bring this upon themselves- not just the varying
influences in society. Guys want this perfect girl: the one who will watch
football with them, doesn’t nag them, gives them total freedom without feeling
tied down- the perfect girlfriend. This is Cool Girl. And I know exactly to what Flynn refers in this
chapter, and it is amazing for somebody to write about this so explicitly, so unexpectedly.
As women, we know she’s the one the men want, and the one we want to be. But
Cool Girl doesn’t exist. Yes, women know about this figure guys want, and they
try and recreate it, but I agree that there really is no such thing. I’m no
exception- there have been times when I have told, or have desperately wanted
to tell, a guy something which I know they
will think is amazing, because it matches this image of perfection. “Cool Girl”
highlights this conflict within individual identity: of being who you really are, or being the person you want to be.
My verdict: definitely a great read, and well worth picking up
if you haven’t already. The ending is a little anti-climatic, but I have since
realised that’s because there is a sequel. Nevertheless, this is a totally
different take on two individual’s relationship, how they come to understand
each other, as well as themselves. And it’s just a little bit deliciously
twisted, too.
