Gillian Flynn

There is one word I have for Gillian Flynn: Obsessed.

I love summer because it is officially pleasure reading season (unlike textbook season at school). I got sucked into 50 Shades of Grey as my first summer book which I thought was disappointing after all the buzz. I am a huge sucker for Best Sellers and my second book was Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn, and I LOVED it!

I love the murder mystery aspect, I have never been into them before but now I'm hooked. And the characterization in the book is amazeee! The two main characters are so three dimensional, I honestly felt like they were people I knew. And as an amateur writer (I took a couple creative writing classes in college ;) ) I am so beyond jealous of her writing. It's amazing. Her analogies and metaphors and style and voice is so cool. That's the only way to put it. I am going to include one of my favorite passages at the end.

After Gone Girl, which I read in a couple days, I knew I had to read Gillian's previous novels. I read Sharp Objects next, which was just as great at Gone Girl, but a little darker. The plot twist at the end is crazy, and the characterization once again is awesome, so convincing. You love and hate Amma the whole time.

I am half way through Dark Places right now, and once again I am so impressed. It's darker than the other two (hence the title) so if you are into happy go lucky books it is not for you. I can't wait to see "whodunit." It's a murder mystery as well.

Apparently movie rights have been bought for the books, I can't wait to see them turned into movies! And I can't wait for her to produce another bomb-ass murder mystery.


Here's a passage from Gone Girl that I love!! It's an excerpt from one of the main character's diary:

I am fat with love! Husky with ardor! Morbidly obese with devotion! A happy, busy bumblebee of marital enthusiasm. I positively hum around him, fussing and fixing. I have become a weird thing. I have become a wife. I find myself steering the ship of conversations - bulkily, unnaturally - just so I can say his name aloud. I have become a wife, I have become a bore, I have been asked to forfeit my Independent Young Feminist card. I don't care. I balance his checkbook, I trim his hair. I've gotten so retro, at one point I will probably use the word pocketbook, shuffling out the door in my swingy tweed coat, my lips painted red, on the way to the beauty parlor. Nothing bothers me. Everything seems like it will turn out fine, every bother transformed into an amusing story to be told over dinner. So I killed a hobo today, honey ...hahahaha! Ah, we have fun!