OH MY GOD SO MANY SPOILERS.
(I know I’ve already warned you, but actually. If you haven’t read Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl, click away now because I’m about to spoil the hell out of this thing.)
Part One: I find little in life more depressing than a promising relationship gone bad. Here, embarrassing as it is and as much as I am blushing as I type this, are various Gone Girl-related texts I sent to a friend today while reading Part One:
3:19 p.m. I’m getting increasingly more depressed by all this doggedly trying to save a failing relationship.
3:20 p.m. Also just found out about nick’s mistress and am almost happy for a legit reason to hate him so much.
3:20 p.m. Wahhhh
3:27 p.m. I like it so far in the way that i need a lot of ice cream, but also i don’t have ice cream so i am alternating chapters with friends episodes to make me feel better about myself.
4:17 p.m. AHH THIS BOOK PART TWO I CAN’T EVEN
To which my friend derisively and justifiably replied, “Hahahahaha.”
Yes, I did definitely identify with Part One Amy. I felt almost physically ill with familiarity 20 pages in, when she got so mad at Nick for not understanding her anniversary treasure hunt clues. And then—surprise!—she’s a raging, lying sociopath. (But, like, guys—she really got me. You know?)
So I spent most of Part Two reeling over that little hurdle. And also getting over the additional hurdle that, wow, this chick’s planning was damn impressive. (Do you think I could ever be that smart? Like, if I really had to.) I never did stop hating Nick: In my mind, there is no coming back after having an affair. Although I guess if your wife is actually certifiably insane and dangerously vindictive, there could be allowances. (But also, he didn’t know that at the time. So I still hate you, Nick.)
So who was I rooting for as I careened into Part Three? Nick, I guess. Namely because for all my admiration of Amy’s planning, she was still effing nuts. And super dangerous! On principle, I don’t trust people who are smarter than me, especially fictional ones, so I was straight up terrified of Amy. And then the ending—OH GOD THE ENDING. That left me super on edge—namely because I could not even begin to believe that Nick could keep up the charade for the entire duration of their child’s life (Amy, now, Amy I had no doubt about, because again, she was insane) and it left me terrified for that poor, doomed, unborn child. (Yet another reason to be terrified of pregnancy—your partner might be a sociopath in disguise!)
In fact, the only thing that saved me from a full-on nervous breakdown during Gone Girl was the occasional distractions by the writing style. My same friend had mentioned that he had been annoyed by the pervasive use of colons, and while I probably wouldn’t have noticed it otherwise, I started counting them. (And to be fair, there were a lot.) What I noticed, mainly, were the lapses into (in my opinion) incredibly cheesy vernacular, namely when the characters were sarcastically joking about something. I’m actually glad those distractions were there, though—they pulled me out of the novel’s constant threat of being “too real.” So we’re all happy.