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incrediblemelk 's review for:
The Complete Gillian Flynn: Gone Girl, Dark Places, Sharp Objects
by Gillian Flynn
I really struggled through the first half of the book trying to care about these two unpleasant, self-indulgent people. Then Flynn seemed to begin mounting a case for female psychopathy and against the 'cool girl' stereotype that makes so many women mould themselves into insouciant, easy-to-be-with yet still conventionally attractive partners who cheerfully indulge their man's every whim and demand no concomitant emotional investment from him in their own needs and desires.
I'd read an interesting essay by Anne Helen Petersen about how Jennifer Lawrence is the latest in a long tradition of Hollywood 'cool girls', and I remember Petersen quoted a passage from this book. I'd also vaguely been following the fallout from that pseudonymous memoir of a female psychopath law professor that came out last year or earlier this year.
So, basically, I started to get interested in Amy as a forensic case study. I also appreciated her ingenuity in plotting her plots and manipulating others.
But the dilemma in writing from the perspective of a psychopath is that she is not likeable or sympathetic and instead comes across as callous and narcissistic. So 'real Amy' was just as awful as 'Diary Amy' and I took pleasure in seeing her plans go awry.
As for Nick, it annoyed me that he was such a thoughtless, passive-aggressive dickhead who childishly craved approval and never took charge of his life, yet I was still sort of hoping he would 'solve the mystery' and 'punish Amy'.
But then honestly I felt these two deserved each other and I didn't want to read about their stupid lives. I disliked their 'voices'. I didn't feel satisfied with where they ended up and I felt it was a cop-out on Flynn's part rather than some commentary about moral ambiguity.
Also, another thing I noticed in this book: what is with Americans serving crisps or crackers as a side dish? Like, here's a sandwich AND SOME CHIPS. HAVE MORE CARBS. It's up there with their vile 'casseroles' that are made by upending various cans into a baking dish, covering the slop with cheese and/or breadcrumbs and then putting it in the oven. Do only granola bourgies over there cook with raw ingredients?
Anyway, so at least it was easy to read. I tore through the book in just two days and now I can say I've read it when the film comes out, but I really do not understand why people were raving about it as an accomplished feat of narrative structure.
Oh, and one creepy thing? When Nick punches in his birthdate as an alarm code, IT WAS MY BIRTHDATE. Month, day, year. That was uncanny.
I'd read an interesting essay by Anne Helen Petersen about how Jennifer Lawrence is the latest in a long tradition of Hollywood 'cool girls', and I remember Petersen quoted a passage from this book. I'd also vaguely been following the fallout from that pseudonymous memoir of a female psychopath law professor that came out last year or earlier this year.
So, basically, I started to get interested in Amy as a forensic case study. I also appreciated her ingenuity in plotting her plots and manipulating others.
But the dilemma in writing from the perspective of a psychopath is that she is not likeable or sympathetic and instead comes across as callous and narcissistic. So 'real Amy' was just as awful as 'Diary Amy' and I took pleasure in seeing her plans go awry.
As for Nick, it annoyed me that he was such a thoughtless, passive-aggressive dickhead who childishly craved approval and never took charge of his life, yet I was still sort of hoping he would 'solve the mystery' and 'punish Amy'.
But then honestly I felt these two deserved each other and I didn't want to read about their stupid lives. I disliked their 'voices'. I didn't feel satisfied with where they ended up and I felt it was a cop-out on Flynn's part rather than some commentary about moral ambiguity.
Also, another thing I noticed in this book: what is with Americans serving crisps or crackers as a side dish? Like, here's a sandwich AND SOME CHIPS. HAVE MORE CARBS. It's up there with their vile 'casseroles' that are made by upending various cans into a baking dish, covering the slop with cheese and/or breadcrumbs and then putting it in the oven. Do only granola bourgies over there cook with raw ingredients?
Anyway, so at least it was easy to read. I tore through the book in just two days and now I can say I've read it when the film comes out, but I really do not understand why people were raving about it as an accomplished feat of narrative structure.
Oh, and one creepy thing? When Nick punches in his birthdate as an alarm code, IT WAS MY BIRTHDATE. Month, day, year. That was uncanny.