Review: Gillian Flynn – “Gone Girl

Gone GirlGone Girl by Gillian Flynn
My rating: 1 of 5 stars

“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 “The Problem of Thor Bridge“. 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.

All in all: it’s stupid entertainment with a nicely twisted plot. I prefer something by Warren Ellis, Walter Mosley or Agatha Christie.

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