My Eight Deranged Days on the Gone Girl Cruise

One brisk morning in late September, as I arrived still a little drunk to a 9 a.m. wine tasting, I thought back to the previous evening. A cruise ship employee had led me off the vessel and to an underlit cellar, where I found an elderly former Austrian homicide detective awaiting me. He had a slideshow prepared, mainly of graphic photos of decomposing women. This was a capstone of sorts to a week where I had received ominous type-written notes resting on my pillow night after night, as new friends and I wondered who might be murdered before the week was out. As I had many times in the previous four days, I contemplated the decisions that had brought me here. But then the riesling breakfast began to do its job. I shrugged. So began another day on the Gone Girl cruise.

argumate:

Gone Girl; thoughts?

I found the last five minutes to be the most terrifying piece of footage I’ve ever had the misfortune to watch, my spine is still quivering.

I only read the book, passed with a sly grin by the girl friend who’s girl me

The “cool girl speech” at least with how the book handles the beginning with HIS recollection of their perfect life then swapped with HER viewpoint for contrast

It was chilling, like “ha ha you thought we were real people just like you ready to live the perfect life together but actually we’re EVERY MISOGYNISTIC BALL-AND-CHAIN STEREOTYPE ever, we’re actually like that, we want it to be like that and we’re done pretending”

And so realistic it was chilling and I called her up and cursed her out for it and she just laughed at me and in the coming years she and the world really turned into that

Also Gillian Flynn’s previous two novels are good but you can tell she totally scrapped them both for parts she rebuilt as this one