Yesterday, I listed some books about unlikeable women. Gillian Flynn seems to excel at portraying such female characters since they appear in all three of her novels.
Her first
book, Sharp Objects, features Adora,
a manipulator extraordinare. Here’s my
review of that book:
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Camille
Preaker, a reporter for a Chicago newspaper, is sent to her hometown of Wind
Gap, Missouri, to write about the disappearance of two pre-teen girls. While on
assignment, she stays with Adora, her mother ; Alan, her step-father; and Amma,
her half-sister.
To call
Camille’s family dysfunctional would be an understatement. The family members
are totally twisted. Adora is a manipulator extraordinaire who showed Camille
no affection while showering her two other daughters with love. She even tells
Camille, “’I think I finally realized why I don’t love you’” (148). This
treatment has scarred Camille both emotionally and mentally; she
self-mutilates, drinks excessively, and seeks love and comfort inappropriately.
Alan is cold and distant and speaks to his step-daughter only to accuse her of
tormenting Adora (163 – 165). Amma is the leader of a gang of vicious and
promiscuous girls; she has a “violent streak . . . a penchant for doing and
seeing nasty things” (101),
In fact no
one in Wind Gap is well-adjusted, especially the women. All are weak, hapless
victims, or back-stabbing desperate housewives, or self-centered and abusive
teenagers. Even the protagonist is not likeable. Her night of drinking and drug
use with a 13-year-old and her sexual dalliance with an 18-year-old hardly make
her sympathetic. She’s doesn’t want to be a victim so she starts victimizing
others?
If I lived
in a small town in Missouri I would be offended by the portrayal of residents.
Having grown up in one, I know what life in a small town is like. Certainly
there are not the cultural opportunities that a city has to offer, and everyone
does know virtually everything about everyone, but not “everyone drinks” (82)
and not everyone is a country bumpkin. According to Camille, anyone who hasn’t
left is complacent, “not strong enough or smart enough to leave” (198). Perhaps
we are to believe that Camille’s views of the townspeople are tainted by her
difficult childhood in Wind Gap, but her opinions are reiterated by the other
out-of-towner, the police detective from Kansas City.
There is
not a great deal of suspense concerning the identity of the person responsible
for the deaths of the two young girls. Very early in the novel, the reader can
narrow down the perpetrator to one of two people. The narrative structure
leaves little doubt where the guilty party will be found; the use of first person
point of view also diminishes any real sense of danger for the narrator. A
character’s name and the reference to a mysterious illness are very obvious
clues to another secret; even Camille admits, “It had to be made that obvious
to me before I finally understood . . . I wanted to scream in shame” (194). And
so she should!
Stephen
King called this novel “a relentlessly creepy family saga” and that it is. It
is not, however, a very suspenseful thriller, and characterization is weak
since most of the characters are flat or stereotypes. In Flynn’s defense, this
is a first novel, and her writing skill has definitely improved since.
************
I’ve already
posted my review of Flynn’s second novel, Dark
Places, which features Libby, a lazy, angry, and manipulative and an
obsessive thief – clearly a damaged person.
See my review at http://schatjesshelves.blogspot.ca/2015/08/review-of-dark-places-by-gillian-flynn.html.
************
Of course,
Glynn is best known for Gone Girl,
her third novel which includes selfish and immature Amy. Here’s my review of that novel:
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This is a
very difficult book to review without revealing spoilers. What can safely be
said is that Nick and Amy Dunne have been married for five years when Amy goes
missing. There is every indication of foul play, and Nick is soon tagged as the
guilty husband.
The book is
narrated from alternating points of view. In the first part, comprising half of
the book, Nick narrates events as they occur in present-time, beginning with
their fifth anniversary, and Amy’s point of view is presented via her diary
which begins with their first meeting. (There are slight changes in Parts 2 and
3, but to explain would give too much away.)
The two
tell very different stories; very soon the reader begins to question who is
telling the truth. For example, discussing their first wedding anniversary,
Nick says, “Amy presented me with a set of posh stationery, my initials
embossed at the top, the paper so creamy I expected my fingers to come away
moist. . . . Neither of us liked our presents” (20). Amy’s version is the
opposite; she writes about giving him “the monogrammed stationery he’s been
wanting from Crane & Co. with the clean sans-serif font sent in hunter
green, on the thick creamy stock that will hold lush ink” (41). Are they just a
couple who do not know each other very well or are they being selective in their
retelling? Nick admits to being “a big fan of the lie of omission” (133) and
even says, “It was my fifth lie to the police. I was just starting” (37). Amy,
on the other hand, is just too good to be true; she refuses “to turn into some
pert-mouthed, strident angry girl” (65) even when Nick goes drinking with
coworkers on their third anniversary. She tells Nick, “’My money is your
money’” (68) but writes, “Those jobless men will proclaim Nick a great guy as
he buys their drinks on a credit card linked to my bank account” (66).
Obviously neither is a reliable narrator. As a consequence, the reader is
manipulated into choosing sides and then constantly reconsidering. At times
sympathy might rest with Nick but then allegiance will shift to Amy.
Neither
character is likeable. Both are selfish and immature, and this may cause
problems for readers who require a likeable character. I quite enjoyed how the
characters are gradually stripped of all their pretenses as we get to the
truth. Of course there are a lot of twists and turns along the way to the
truth, but I love roller coaster rides.
I have two
problems with the book. One is the portrayal of the police investigating the
case. In many ways they are stereotypes of close-minded, bumbling police
officers. At one point, Nick’s lawyer says, “’The bigger the lie, the more they
believe it’” (390). My other problem is the third part, the last 50 pages. I
found it contrived and so unsatisfying, although I’ll admit that perhaps it’s
the only possible ending.
Anyone who
loves a psychological thriller with fully developed characters, and a
character-driven, intricate, unpredictable, suspenseful plot should definitely
give this book a try.
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