It’s been five years since Nick Dunne hit da jackpot by puttin a ring on Amy

Elliot- a girl who almost as fine as she is RICH. But what was supposed to be anotha depressing

anniversary celebratin’ a dead-ass marriage turns in to a full on sh**-show when Amy goes

missing. Where dat girl go?

Now there’s somethin’ I gotta cover real quick. This book ain’t just narrated

by one fool tellin’ us what up with the Dunne’s. Naw. We gettin da lowdown from

two different sources- Amy and Nick. And at first, Amy conversatin’ with us through

her journal.

Dat journal make it sound like things were real legit between them in da

beginning. But da party didn’t last long: Nick loses his job like a scrub, makes em

leave their life of swank city livin’ and move to da boonies of Missouri to take care

of his mama, and then uses Amy’s inherited ends to open a bar with his sistah. Not only

dat, but according to da journal, Nick been whoopin on Amy lately and she scurred fo’

her life.

Anyway, when da po-po hit da scene, erryone start ‘spectin’ Nick of killin

Amy...I mean, ain’t you eva’ seen da news? Da husband ALWAYS did it. Cept OJ I guess...

But when mo’ and mo’ evidence start pilin’ up against him, da media gets a big

ol’ sensationalism-boner and start hatin’ on Nick like he da killer fo’ real.

Turns out, Amy ain’t even dead. Matta’ fact, girl faked her own

death, wrote a bunk-ass diary lyin’ her ass off, and left a whole buncha clues to

make Nick look guilty- all cuz he been cheatin on her like a dick. Nick soon figure out his

wife is alive and jus’ tryna burn him, but how’s a brutha gonna prove it to the dumbass

police? Nick take some of da heat off by playin da game dat Amy playin at: Brutha start

workin it to make sho public opinion is on his side by showin’ his mug on TV, runnin

his mouth bout how bad a husband he was, and sayin he jus’ miss his baby-girl and want

her back.

As for Amy, her master plan gets shat on when when some trailer trash honkies

boost all her cash. Now she ain’t got no choice but to hit up her first boytoy, Desy,

who been prayin fo a crack o’ dat ass fo’ years. Da tables turn on Amy, tho, who realize

dat Desi jus’ wanna control her like almost erry otha’ dude she ever met- cept Nick.

Eventually, she tired of bein holed up in his swag pad, so girl slices dat fool up and

runs back to Nick, tellin da media that Desi was behind her whole disappearance. Some messed

up sh**. But at least Nick is off da hook.

Nick know he gotta get his ass far from this crazy biddy, and even start to choke

a bitch. But brutha stop when he realize his life would be too empty without her. Still,

he DOES wanna stop Amy from bonin’ up anyone else’s life, and plans to expose da truth.

But Amy one step ahead of him: girl impregnates herself with his love joose leftovers

from tissues, porn, and otha sh**... FO REAL. To top it off, she say “Look playboy. You

even dare try to come forward wit yo story, who KNOWS what you gonna happen to yo baby

boy.” DAMN GIRL!

So in the end, Nick and Amy stay togetha, with Amy keepin’ his ass in check

and Nick spendin his days thinkin how righteous it would be to kill this bitch. Man. Nick’s

lawyer said it best: “’You two are the most fu**ed-up people

I have ever met, and I specialize in fu**ed-up people.” (389)

Whew. This book makes my nuts shrivel up. See, most love stories gonna drop

some romantic rhymes on yo ass, sayin dat love is da baddest and sweetest sh** you’ll

eva’ know. But Fynn ain’t playin no fairy tale game. Naw, blood. Da book’s epigraph

set da stage fo’ somethin way mo’ fu**ed up:

““Love is the world’s infinite mutability; lies, hatred, murder even, are all knit up

in it; it is the inevitable blossoming of its opposites, a magnificent rose smelling

faintly of blood.” – Tony Kushner, THE ILLUSION

REAL love means da WHOLE package- not jus’ the smiles, da laughs, and da good

times; love got a darker side too. Dats why instead of jus’ describin’ love with images

of sunshine, happiness, and roses, Flynn busts talks bout nuclear explosions, cancer, and

my fav- thorns. Check it- Nick and I fit together. I am a little too much, and he is a little

too little. I am a thornbush, bristling from the overattention of my parents, and

he is a man of a million little fatherly stab wounds, and my thorns fit perfectly into them.”

(353)

So on da one hand, we got a symbol of love where two peeps PERFECTLY complement

eachotha; but at da same time, dat complement all bout thorns forevea jabbing in to open

wounds. God. Damn.

Anotha one of Gone Girl’s main jams is narrative, and how reality is all in da

power of da homie holdin da pen, mic, or camera. Like Amy’s pops say on p. 190: “The truth

is malleable; you just need to pick the right expert.”

We livin’ in a world where there be so many familiar images flashin in front of

our eyes 24/7, da truth can get lost in all the bullsh**. Ain’t nobody realize this

mo’ than Amy. Girl always creating fake narratives in line with what da media wanna

believe in order to fu** wit Nick and get her way. Fo example, she makes up some bullsh**

bout Nick bein a wife-beater in her journal, but since da “abusive husband” is a character

dat da media gets hard fo’, they eat it up and what’s true don’t even matta’

no mo.

But da truth ain’t da only thing dat get lost in our world of sensationalist

media sh**storms, our identities do too. The title “Gone Girl” ain’t only reppin

da fact that Amy’s physical body went missing, but also dat WHO she is- has been gone fo’

a long time. Cuz o this jacked up world, she been: Amazing Amy. Preppy ‘80s Girl. Ultimate-

Frisbee Granola and Blushing Ingenue and Witty Hepburnian Sophisticate. Brainy Ironic Girl

and Boho Babe (the latest version of Frisbee Granola). Cool Girl and Loved Wife and Unloved

Wife and Vengeful Scorned Wife. Diary Amy.” (237)

People been exposed to so many narratives, like da corrupt politician, da

lazy trust fund baby, or da violent gangster lookin’ dude, dat there ain’t no room

fo’ a self. And the scurriest thang is: when you getting’ marginalized and defined

24/7, you sometimes find that you become EXACTLY the kinda monster dat errybody makin you out

to be. Hell, just look at Nick: eventually, he DOES physically abuse his wife and fantasize

about icin’ her. That’s some messed up sh** right thurr. “It’s a very difficult

era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collection of

personality traits selected form an endless Automat of characters.” (73)

Yo thanks for checkin me out. If you gusy wanna see mo’ dark stuff, click

this gun to see me break down Watchmen by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons. If you want somethin’

lighter, click this python to see me break down The Cat in the hat by Doc Seuss. Don’t

be jealous. Don’t hate. This is all real. No roids. I don’t juice yo.