What happens when people with all of the brains, looks,
charm, education, and pedigree in the world spiral into an unbelievable losing
streak?
Amazing Amy is missing. Amy is gorgeous, talented, self-disciplined,
brilliant, and many men’s fantasy. Yes,
she is a mesmerizing beauty. But she is
also razor smart and always fun. She’s a
smart aleck: she doesn’t like women who boss their men around, and refers to
those husbands/boyfriends as “dancing monkeys.”
They always show up and do the bidding of their wives, who apparently
just like to see them jump.
What makes Amy so Amazing?
Her parents. To a scary degree,
Amy is a
fictional character. That is, her parents wrote twenty books for
teens about her, the Amazing Amy series.
Except Amy’s parents wrote about the daughter they never had: Amy
refracted through rose-colored lens—Amy
if
she were perfect. When the real life
Amy had trouble in school, Amazing Amy didn’t pout or cause problems. She
solved
the problems with hard work and determination. When real Amy lost the perfect boyfriend
through her bad behavior, Amazing Amy
won
him back. When real Amy lost her job
as a premiere New York writer and her marriage got rocky, Amazing Amy….
It’s a lot of pressure, even for a gorgeous girl with near
perfect SATs to live up to. Real Amy
made mistakes. But Amazing Amy always
lands on her feet with panache and good cheer!
And now Amy’s gone.
Maybe dead.
Who kidnapped or killed her?
Part One alternates between Amy’s diary (covering the last
five years) leading up to her disappearance, and the story of her husband’s
life starting with Day One of the missing girl investigation.
Nick is charming, an adjunct college professor, the co-owner
of The Bar (paid for with Amy’s trust fund), and—once you get past his easy
glamour--everyone’s idea of the least sympathetic husband on earth. He’s also hyper self-aware, so he knows all
of his flaws. He even knows that his
self-awareness isn’t born of humility, but of narcissism. Nick can’t stomach criticism, and he wants
everyone to always think the best of him.
So, he withholds information, and not just from the cops or his twin
sister, but from us: the readers.
When he’s finally forced to admit to a devastating
revelation, he tells us in advance that he’s about to say something that will
make us hate him.
Hate him.
Abhor him; wish evil upon
him. And his admission sort of works:
you know he may be guilty of murder, but you hope he isn’t. You know he’s a selfish liar who has hurt
others, but you root for him anyway, just like maybe you rooted for Sherman
McCoy in
Bonfire of the Vanities.
I would love to tell you more, but I can’t. Because the author,
Gillian Flynn, is
absolutely in control of every element of the story.
One third of the way in, Ms. Flynn hit me so hard with a
shocking surprise that I never would’ve guessed it if I’d taken out a sheet of
paper and you’d paid me $100 for every hypothetical plot twist I could have
come up with. Believe me, I would have
listed at least $20,000 worth, and none of them would have been as good as what
Gillian Flynn unveiled.
Let’s just say that Flynn is highly deceptive. If fiction is about misdirection, then I hope
Ms. Flynn lives to be the oldest woman in the world and writes a book a year,
because once the major surprise hit, I was destabilized.
I couldn’t read fast enough.
Then she shocked me again.
Several times.
When an author is this adept at plot and twists, it’s easy
to race through a book and not appreciate the depth of the
characterization. But Flynn shows so
many sides to her complex characters, Nick and Amy, that when I finished
Gone Girl, I wanted to start over. I wanted a sequel.
Plot.
Three-dimensional characterization.
Powerful language. And a
devastating portrayal of setting: America, post 2009. More than just the economy crashes in
Gone Girl. When people’s hopes get shredded, so does
their veneer of being civilized people: the charm goes, and they act out of
their rawest wounds, all claws and teeth, lashing out even when they know it’s
self-destructive, caught in a death spiral, all the while feeling they withdraw
and regroup from what they are doing, but if
Gone Girl illustrates one principle of psychology with total
veracity, it’s that our emotions are so much more powerful than our reason.
I only wish one thing were different: the ending. That’s why I think: sequel.
There’s also foul language, sexual depravity, and a
portrayal of porn as a mainstream behavior.
But maybe parts of our society
are already there. And taken within the
context of Flynn’s dark vision, these NC-17 elements make sense, but readers
deserve a fair warning.
If you like buying mysteries or contemporary novels for
friends, I’d give them
Gone Girl. The plot alone is worth it, but what Flynn
does with psychology and setting is masterful.
I am thrilled that Ms. Flynn has two novels I haven’t read:
Dark Places and
Sharp Objects. They’re next.
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Tim
Wuebker is an author from the greater Kansas City area. He's also a teacher who has had students from every continent, facilitated 11 kinds of
college English classes, and taught six kinds of high school math. His latest novel, 2029, is a thriller available for Kindle on Amazon. Find Tim on
Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/timwwuebker.