ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!

I finally finished reading Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn last night. Fuck this fucking book. Fuck it six ways from Saturday.

I would say "spoiler alert!", but please, please allow me to save you the time you'll spend on this particular piece of literature.

I should have known. I should have known by the hype surrounding this book, and I definitely should have known when they chose David Fincher to direct the upcoming movie based on said piece of shit.

Let me explain....

I had read the description, I had even watched the first teaser trailer for the film. Looked very interesting; I wanted to make sure I read the story first. I was advised by two different Harvard graduates, whose social skills I trust very much, that this book was outstanding. Oh... and was it ever.

I was had. I got one paragraph in and thought "this is great, I really miss being curled up reading". Fuck that. I was totally devoted to this book. Though wordy and full of dialogue (both inner and outer), it's a quick read. You are hooked fairly early on and seem to sail through how candidly Gillian is able to tell such a detailed story.

In the middle, you're just all "I need to hurry home from work and read this shit, I have to KNOW.". Then, even when you think you're starting to figure things out, twwwwwist! And not a crappy twist, a really clever, evil twist that makes you wonder if the author is actually sick. (answer:yes)

Toward the end, you're basically emotionally exhausted. You just want closure. You're hoping for the big bang of conclusions; to feel the satisfaction of justice. You are awarded no such thing. Yet...you're not rewarded the opposite either. It is the most hideous of tie scores.

As I read the last page, I thought I had missed something. I literally checked if there was a chapter beyond the acknowledgments. I actually checked to see if my binding was all messed up and a chapter had been left out. No. No. In reality, you NEVER get closure. You get to sink down into the sickening emptiness where the characters also dwell. And it becomes far-fetched. Not only because this has just never happened before, not even on the show Snapped, but because the ending is utterly countered to the beginning of the book in such a horrifying, unsustainable way.

I almost threw my copy. I went back and watched the trailer twice and realized "OF COURSE!". Obviously I should have known the book would end up like this as Fincher is known for directing dark, hopeless pictures lacking a viable closure of story: Fight Club, Seven, The Social Network, etc. Oh! Let's not leave out Zodiac! A movie about a killer who was never ever caught. Well, good luck, David. I have no doubt the adapted screenplay will be stellar and I'd like to thank you in advance for your lack of soul. How you delight in such fruitless journeys, I'll never understand!!

I made 3 different phone calls to just bitch and bitch about this book and how I actually felt like the victim knowing the story did exactly what it was intended to do: draw me in and disappoint me for life. Just like Nick....Amy got me too. Thanks, Amy. Thanks, Gillian Flynn. Thanks a whole bunch.

In closing, this book is The Red Wedding of hype novels... well... besides the actual novel containing The Red Wedding. You know what I'm saying, just save yourself the time. Or don't. Read that shit. Just don't say I didn't warn you.