One of the most critically acclaimed suspense writers of our time, New York Times bestseller Gillian Flynn takes that statement to its darkest place in this unputdownable masterpiece about a marriage gone terribly, terribly wrong. The Chicago Tribune proclaimed that her work “draws you in and keeps you reading with the force of a pure but nasty addiction.” Gone Girl’s toxic mix of sharp-edged wit and deliciously chilling prose creates a nerve-fraying thriller that confounds you at every turn.
On a warm summer morning in North Carthage, Missouri, it is Nick and Amy Dunne’s fifth wedding anniversary. Presents are being wrapped and reservations are being made when Nick’s clever and beautiful wife disappears from their rented McMansion on the Mississippi River. Husband-of-the-Year Nick isn’t doing himself any favors with cringe-worthy daydreams about the slope and shape of his wife’s head, but passages from Amy's …
Marriage can be a real killer.
One of the most critically acclaimed suspense writers of our time, New York Times bestseller Gillian Flynn takes that statement to its darkest place in this unputdownable masterpiece about a marriage gone terribly, terribly wrong. The Chicago Tribune proclaimed that her work “draws you in and keeps you reading with the force of a pure but nasty addiction.” Gone Girl’s toxic mix of sharp-edged wit and deliciously chilling prose creates a nerve-fraying thriller that confounds you at every turn.
On a warm summer morning in North Carthage, Missouri, it is Nick and Amy Dunne’s fifth wedding anniversary. Presents are being wrapped and reservations are being made when Nick’s clever and beautiful wife disappears from their rented McMansion on the Mississippi River. Husband-of-the-Year Nick isn’t doing himself any favors with cringe-worthy daydreams about the slope and shape of his wife’s head, but passages from Amy's diary reveal the alpha-girl perfectionist could have put anyone dangerously on edge. Under mounting pressure from the police and the media—as well as Amy’s fiercely doting parents—the town golden boy parades an endless series of lies, deceits, and inappropriate behavior. Nick is oddly evasive, and he’s definitely bitter—but is he really a killer?
As the cops close in, every couple in town is soon wondering how well they know the one that they love. With his twin sister, Margo, at his side, Nick stands by his innocence. Trouble is, if Nick didn’t do it, where is that beautiful wife? And what was in that silvery gift box hidden in the back of her bedroom closet?
With her razor-sharp writing and trademark psychological insight, Gillian Flynn delivers a fast-paced, devilishly dark, and ingeniously plotted thriller that confirms her status as one of the hottest writers around.
--front flap
As a gay trans non-binary person who has never engaged in heterosexuality, reading this book felt like reading a work of science fiction about an alien civilization. It was fun, and sometimes depressing, but most of the times I was baffled by the depictions of men, women and their marriages. I felt like I was watching a David Attenborough documentary on straight cis people.
I did double takes and I had to double check with my straight friends.
(According to them, apparently sometimes it kinda is like that, but the machiavellianism is less elaborate?)
Overall, a fun read with despisable characters that I had a hard time understanding, but I think that's on me. The real villain of the book was heteronormativity, and the real victim was Detective Boney.
As a gay trans non-binary person who has never engaged in heterosexuality, reading this book felt like reading a work of science fiction about an alien civilization. It was fun, and sometimes depressing, but most of the times I was baffled by the depictions of men, women and their marriages. I felt like I was watching a David Attenborough documentary on straight cis people.
I did double takes and I had to double check with my straight friends.
(According to them, apparently sometimes it kinda is like that, but the machiavellianism is less elaborate?)
Overall, a fun read with despisable characters that I had a hard time understanding, but I think that's on me. The real villain of the book was heteronormativity, and the real victim was Detective Boney.
of course i need to brag that i knew throughout part 1 that i was dealing with unreliable narrators - nick, who was upfront about his evations and lies, and amy, whose background in psychology made her an ideal author of a fudged journal.
so i was thrilled in part 2 when amy's authentic voice spoke up and i no longer had to ping pong between nick bashing her head in, and amy executing a brilliant revenge plan.
but it didn't end there - the author does a bang up job of dragging us back to an investment of amy. yes, she's psychopath, but were rooting for her to keep her identity secret (or at least keep her safe from those 2 rednecks, and later her ex-boyfriend) and since we're also rooting for nick, we are just as pleased (but an uneasy pleased) that she can return and sort of …
of course i need to brag that i knew throughout part 1 that i was dealing with unreliable narrators - nick, who was upfront about his evations and lies, and amy, whose background in psychology made her an ideal author of a fudged journal.
so i was thrilled in part 2 when amy's authentic voice spoke up and i no longer had to ping pong between nick bashing her head in, and amy executing a brilliant revenge plan.
but it didn't end there - the author does a bang up job of dragging us back to an investment of amy. yes, she's psychopath, but were rooting for her to keep her identity secret (or at least keep her safe from those 2 rednecks, and later her ex-boyfriend) and since we're also rooting for nick, we are just as pleased (but an uneasy pleased) that she can return and sort of get away with it. well, we seesaw over that last part.
ultimately - besides being the most entertaining and plot twisting mystery i've ever read - you might even think the author is commenting on the institution of marriage itself. like stephen sondheim's marriage song/masterpiece: sorry-grateful
I usually resist reading books that are too zeitgeist, with articles and films bombarding one with instructions on how one ought to think of the book. But on my wife's recommendation, and because I am lying sick in bed, I thought I would give it a try. It was a quick and enjoyable read.
Most people seem to focus on the plot, which rolls the story along in an entertaining way, with plenty of twists and turns (hence all the spoiler alerts). But I did see some (not all) of these twists coming. What was more interesting for me was how the author inserts a psychopathic Becky Sharpe (Vanity Fair) into a modern morality tale using dual perspective narratives. We are invited to guess (if we choose to notice) that these narratives should not carry the same weight, evidentially. Nick's narrative is author's first person, but Amy's is clearly …
spoliers
I usually resist reading books that are too zeitgeist, with articles and films bombarding one with instructions on how one ought to think of the book. But on my wife's recommendation, and because I am lying sick in bed, I thought I would give it a try. It was a quick and enjoyable read.
Most people seem to focus on the plot, which rolls the story along in an entertaining way, with plenty of twists and turns (hence all the spoiler alerts). But I did see some (not all) of these twists coming. What was more interesting for me was how the author inserts a psychopathic Becky Sharpe (Vanity Fair) into a modern morality tale using dual perspective narratives. We are invited to guess (if we choose to notice) that these narratives should not carry the same weight, evidentially. Nick's narrative is author's first person, but Amy's is clearly entitled 'diary entry'. Whilst we may suspect that neither character is being entirely honest with the reader, we realise that the diary is the least reliable account.
Yet, despite the elaborate falsehoods, the diary is often the better read. It is a great account of how a marriage can descend into hell. It is also a an interesting disquisition on the rights and responsibilities of marriage, the obligations to communicate. But then the diary gets darker, our sympathy for Nick evaporates, and we root for this attractive, super-intelligent talented woman who has been forced to waste her life in the sticks. And then the plot is revealed, and we realise we have been had.
Nonetheless, I still found myself rooting for Amy. I was sad for her when she lost all her money at the cabin, worrying about what she would do next. So I do not buy into the idea that this book provides fuel for misogynist trolls. Yes, she does take some things to the extreme, but she seems also to be an example of how being regarded as perfect ('amazing Amy') is a burden. As Nick says near the end of the book, when he looks at her sleeping, he no longer feels like he is staring at the sun. Her extraordinary efforts to control him, bend the world to her will, get away with murder, all serve to remove the shine. Ironically, by being so threatening, she becomes less intimidating.
This is maybe where some of the feminist criticism of the book (I am looking at you, Guardian) is off beam. Misogyny, exemplified by the recent trend for trolling, often arises from men being intimidated by women. In the battle of the sexes, very few men would now think that men have much claim to superior intelligence. Amy was an intimidating child, and is an intimidating woman. Throughout their relationship, Nick needs to find a way to survive being in her presence, to not be blinded by the sun. By the end of the book, after all they have been through, he may feel that living with a flawed psychopath is preferable to living with perfect, 'amazing Amy'.
