Fiction: “Gone Girl” by Gillian Flynn

gone girlHm. I’m not sure how I’m going to go about this one.

Gone Girl was on a lot of “Great Beach Reads!” lists at the beginning of the summer. GoodReads was exclaiming over it, Anne Wheaton read it; a lot of people that I interact with through the veil of Interwebs were reading it. And when I found a cheap copy at Bull Moose (because going to the library isn’t something I do anymore, apparently), I picked it up.

It is a thriller with a twist, and that’s what’s making it hard to talk about it. I am a spoiler; a ruiner, if you will. And I don’t want to ruin this for you the way that I ruined it for myself.

Yes, I ruined this book for myself. I think, dear readers, that it is time for me to disclose a terrible, terrible secret.

I am Harry Burns.

If you don't like When Harry Met Sally, we can no longer be friends. JSYK.

Yeah, that guy. I mean, no, I’m not Billy Crystal; he has other, better, things to do with his time than pretend to be a thirty-year-old woman that lives in Maine and has no life. But I am totally Harry Burns.

I read the last page of the book first so that if I die before I finish it, at least I know how it ends. I recognize that I am the worst kind of maintenance: high-maintenance masquerading as low-maintenance. I like to think that ancient hieroglyphics are just an ancient comic about some dude named Sphinxy. I would like to partake of your pecan pie. I never take someone to the airport at the beginning of a relationship, because I don’t want there to be a time when the person says, “Why don’t you take me to the airport anymore?” I mean, let’s face it: I look like a normal human being, but actually, I am the angel of death.

[The only way I differ from Mr. Burns [[HA!]] is that I do believe that men and women can be friends. Although, now that I think about it, I don’t actually have any single {and straight} male friends … hm. Well. That’s gotta change.]

But yeah – I ruined Gone Girl because I *had* to read ahead to find out what the twist was. I *had* to read Part III first. Because I? Am a ruiner.

And because I ruined it for myself, I started seeing clues sooner than I should have. I was able to recognize when something was going to come back, like one of Chekhov’s guns. And that … not ruined, because I still liked the book, but made the book not as enjoyable for me.

I think that if I hadn’t read ahead, or skimmed for future plot points, I would have been more surprised, and I would have found myself reading it well into the dead of night. Instead, I would read a couple of chapters and then find myself falling asleep.

So let me give you a little bit of the plot. It starts on the morning of Nick and Amy’s fifth wedding anniversary. When Nick’s out of the house, Amy just … disappears. Without a trace. The police get involved, search parties are formed, but months drag on and there’s no sight of Amy. As police do, they start to suspect Nick of murder. The book follows Nick’s struggle through the investigation, his own investigation into what might have happened to Amy, and what did happen to Amy.

That’s all you’re getting from me. I don’t want to ruin the book for you. Because — in true Harry Burns fashion — I only ruin things for myself.

Grade for Gone Girl: 3 stars


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