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Occasionally I read a book.  There you have it.  It’s out, the confession the whole world needed to hear.  I read books.  Does that make me a bad person?

That was a weird outburst even by my standards.  I have someone to blame this time — Gillian Flynn, author of one of the most PMS inspired books I have ever tried to read, Gone Girl.  Every stinking character in this book defies the rules of sensibility, guided by something outside of themselves and controlled by nothing logical, all in a haze that makes you want to shake them all.  Even the male characters, especially the male characters, have a cluelessness about them that makes me put the book down after ten pages or so, just to allow the frustration I feel for the characters to subside.  The characters are one dimensional, each defined by one flaw, defined really by their flaws only and in a way that makes me want to intervene, crawl in between the pages to put them out of their misery.  They are mired in a haze created by their creator.

Gone Girl is a story about Nick and Amy Dunne, writers who met while living in New York, Amy the daughter of author parents and from New York, parents who are independently wealthy on money earned from a series of books called Amazing Amy..  Nick is a working class Missouri transplant, a magazine writer, a twin, ruggedly handsome (of course) who sweeps Amy off of her feet at a party.  They both lose their writing jobs, move to Missouri at Nick’s urging, where Nick opens a bar with his twin (Margo or Go) using money that Amy has left from her trust fund.  Their five year marriage is rocky, culminating with Amy’s disappearance on the day of their five year wedding anniversary.  We find out the details of their relationship with alternating accounts from Amy’s journal and from Nick’s first person narrative.  Nick, of course, becomes the main suspect in what is assumed to be a murder.

And that’s where I come in — because I want to murder them both and get it over with.

Why am I still reading this book?  A friend of mine recommended it highly, as did the librarian at my local library when I asked for the book.  Both said it was one of those books they couldn’t put down.  I did originally like the style of writing, the mix of first person narrative and journal.  I do want to see what happens.  Maybe the strongest motivation is simply my resolve to not let this book beat me.

Oh, and the author lives in Chicago.  I have to give her a chance.  So I will resist the urge to jump between the pages to end the misery of each character, instead I will plug away until the end, a Midol buzz ringing between my ears.

If only I could join in.

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