Gillian Flynn - Gone Girl:

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Gone Girl:: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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Marriage can be a real killer. One of the most critically acclaimed suspense writers of our time, *New York Times* bestseller Gillian Flynn takes that statement to its darkest place in this unputdownable masterpiece about a marriage gone terribly, terribly wrong. The *Chicago Tribune* proclaimed that her work “draws you in and keeps you reading with the force of a pure but nasty addiction.” *Gone Girl* ’s toxic mix of sharp-edged wit and deliciously chilling prose creates a nerve-fraying thriller that confounds you at every turn. On a warm summer morning in North Carthage, Missouri, it is Nick and Amy Dunne’s fifth wedding anniversary. Presents are being wrapped and reservations are being made when Nick’s clever and beautiful wife disappears from their rented McMansion on the Mississippi River. Husband-of-the-Year Nick isn’t doing himself any favors with cringe-worthy daydreams about the slope and shape of his wife’s head, but passages from Amy's diary reveal the alpha-girl perfectionist could have put anyone dangerously on edge **.** Under mounting pressure from the police and the media—as well as Amy’s fiercely doting parents—the town golden boy parades an endless series of lies, deceits, and inappropriate behavior. Nick is oddly evasive, and he’s definitely bitter—but is he really a killer? As the cops close in, every couple in town is soon wondering how well they know the one that they love. With his twin sister, Margo, at his side, Nick stands by his innocence. Trouble is, if Nick didn’t do it, where is that beautiful wife? And what was in that silvery gift box hidden in the back of her bedroom closet? With her razor-sharp writing and trademark psychological insight, Gillian Flynn delivers a fast-paced, devilishly dark, and ingeniously plotted thriller that confirms her status as one of the hottest writers around. ### Amazon.com Review Amazon Best Books of the Month, June 2012: On their fifth wedding anniversary, Nick’s wife Amy disappears. There are signs of struggle in the house, and Nick quickly becomes the prime suspect. It doesn’t help that Nick hasn’t been completely honest with the police, and, as Amy’s case drags out for weeks, more and more vilifying evidence appears against him--but Nick maintains his innocence. Alternating points of view between Nick and Amy, Gillian Flynn creates an untrustworthy world that changes from chapter to chapter. Calling *Gone Girl* a psychological thriller is an understatement. As revelation after revelation unfolds, it becomes clear that the truth does not exist in the middle of Nick and Amy’s points of view; it is far darker, more twisted, and creepier than you can imagine. *Gone Girl* is masterfully plotted, and the suspense doesn’t waver for a single page. It’s one of those books you will feel the need to discuss as soon as you finish it, because the ending doesn’t just come--it punches you in the gut. -- *Caley Anderson* #### From Author Gillian Flynn You might say I specialize in difficult characters. Damaged, disturbed, or downright nasty. Personally, I love each and every one of the misfits, losers, and outcasts in my three novels. My supporting characters are meth tweakers, truck-stop strippers, backwoods grifters ... But it's my narrators who are the real challenge. In *Sharp Objects,* Camille Preaker is a mediocre journalist fresh from a stay at a psychiatric hospital. She's an alcoholic. She's got impulse issues. She's also incredibly lonely. Her best friend is her boss. When she returns to her hometown to investigate a child murder, she parks down the street from her mother's house "so as to seem less obtrusive." She has no sense of whom to trust, and this leads to disaster. Camille is cut off from the world but would rather not be. In *Dark Places,* narrator Libby Day is aggressively lonely. She cultivates her isolation. She lives off a trust fund established for her as a child when her family was massacred; she isn't particularly grateful for it. She's a liar, a manipulator, a kleptomaniac. "I have a meanness inside me, real as an organ," she warns. "Draw a picture of my soul and it'd be a scribble with fangs." If Camille is overly grateful when people want to befriend her, Libby's first instinct is to kick them in their shins. In those first two novels, I explored the geography of loneliness--and the devastation it can lead to. With *Gone Girl,* I wanted to go the opposite direction: what happens when two people intertwine their lives completely.I wanted to explore the geography of intimacy--and the devastation it can lead to. Marriage gone toxic. *Gone Girl* opens on the occasion of Amy and Nick Dunne's fifth wedding anniversary. (How romantic.) Amy disappears under very disturbing circumstances. (Less romantic.) Nick and Amy Dunne were the golden couple when they first began their courtship. Soul mates. They could complete each other's sentences, guess each other's reactions. They could push each other's buttons. They are smart, charming, gorgeous, and also narcissistic, selfish, and cruel. They complete each other--in a very dangerous way. ### Review "Ice-pick-sharp... Spectacularly sneaky... Impressively cagey... "Gone Girl" is Ms. Flynn's dazzling breakthrough. It is wily, mercurial, subtly layered and populated by characters so well imagined that they're hard to part with -- even if, as in Amy's case, they are already departed. And if you have any doubts about whether Ms. Flynn measures up to Patricia Highsmith's level of discreet malice, go back and look at the small details. Whatever you raced past on a first reading will look completely different the second time around." --Janet Maslin, "New York Times ""An ingenious and viperish thriller... It's going to make Gillian Flynn a star... The first half of "Gone Girl" is a nimble, caustic riff on our Nancy Grace culture and the way in which ''The butler did it'' has morphed into ''The husband did it.'' The second half is the real stunner, though. Now I really am going to shut up before I spoil what instantly shifts into a great, breathless read. Even as "Gone Girl" grows truly twisted and wild, it says smart things about how tenuous power relations are between men and women, and how often couples are at the mercy of forces beyond their control. As if that weren't enough, Flynn has created a genuinely creepy villain you don't see coming. People love to talk about the banality of evil. You're about to meet a maniac you could fall in love with. A" "--"Jeff Giles, "Entertainment Weekly " "An irresistible summer thriller with a twisting plot worthy of Alfred Hitchcock. Burrowing deep into the murkiest corners of the human psyche, this delectable summer read will give you the creeps and keep you on edge until the last page." "--People" (four stars) "[A] thoroughbred thriller about the nature of identity and the terrible secrets that can survive and thrive in even the most intimate relationships. "Gone Girl" begins as a whodunit, but by the end it will have you wondering whether there's any such thing as a who at all." "--"Lev Grossman, "Time"

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“You know, all through the centuries, pathetic men have abused strong women who threaten their masculinity,” Desi is saying. “They have such fragile psyches, they need that control …”

I am thinking of a different kind of control. I am thinking about control in the guise of caring: Here is a sweater for the cold, my sweet, now wear it and match my vision .

Nick, at least, didn’t do this. Nick let me do what I wanted.

I just want Desi to sit still and be quiet. He’s fidgety and nervous, as if his rival is in the room with us.

“Shhh,” I say as my pretty face comes on the screen, then another photo and another, like falling leaves, an Amy collage.

“She was the girl that every girl wanted to be,” said Sharon’s voiceover. “Beautiful, brilliant, inspiring, and very wealthy.”

“He was the guy that all men admired …”

“Not this man,” Desi muttered.

“… handsome, funny, bright, and charming.”

“But on July fifth, their seemingly perfect world came crashing in when Amy Elliott Dunne disappeared on their fifth wedding anniversary.”

Recap recap recap. Photos of me, Andie, Nick. Stock photos of a pregnancy test and unpaid bills. I really did do a nice job. It’s like painting a mural and stepping back and thinking: Perfect .

“Now, exclusively, Nick Dunne breaks his silence, not only on his wife’s disappearance but on his infidelity and all those rumors .”

I feel a gust of warmth toward Nick because he’s wearing my favorite tie that I bought for him, that he thinks, or thought, was too girly-bright. It’s a peacocky purple that turns his eyes almost violet. He’s lost his satisfied-asshole paunch over the last month: His belly is gone, the fleshiness of his face has vanished, his chin is less clefty. His hair has been trimmed but not cut—I have an image of Go hacking away at him just before he went on camera, slipping into Mama Mo’s role, fussing over him, doing the saliva-thumb rubdown on some spot near his chin. He is wearing my tie and when he lifts his hand to make a gesture, I see he is wearing my watch, the vintage Bulova Spaceview that I got him for his thirty-third birthday, that he never wore because it wasn’t him , even though it was completely him.

“He’s wonderfully well groomed for a man who thinks his wife is missing,” Desi snipes. “Glad he didn’t skip a manicure.”

“Nick would never get a manicure,” I say, glancing at Desi’s buffed nails.

“Let’s get right to it, Nick,” Sharon says. “Did you have anything to do with your wife’s disappearance?”

“No. No. Absolutely, one hundred percent not,” Nick says, keeping well-coached eye contact. “But let me say, Sharon, I am far, far from being innocent, or blameless, or a good husband. If I weren’t so afraid for Amy, I would say this was a good thing, in a way, her disappearing—”

“Excuse me, Nick, but I think a lot of people will find it hard to believe you just said that when your wife is missing.”

“It’s the most awful, horrible feeling in the world, and I want her back more than anything. All I am saying is that it has been the most brutal eye-opener for me. You hate to believe that you are such an awful man that it takes something like this to pull you out of your selfishness spiral and wake you up to the fact that you are the luckiest bastard in the world. I mean, I had this woman who was my equal, my better , in every way, and I let my insecurities—about losing my job, about not being able to care for my family, about getting older—cloud all that.”

“Oh, please—” Desi starts, and I shush him. For Nick to admit to the world that he is not a good guy—it’s a small death, and not of the petite mort variety.

“And Sharon, let me say it. Let me say it right now: I cheated. I disrespected my wife. I didn’t want to be the man that I had become, but instead of working on myself, I took the easy way out. I cheated with a young woman who barely knew me. So I could pretend to be the big man. I could pretend to be the man I wanted to be—smart and confident and successful—because this young woman didn’t know any different. This young girl, she hadn’t seen me crying into a towel in the bathroom in the middle of the night because I lost my job. She didn’t know all my foibles and shortcomings. I was a fool who believed if I wasn’t perfect, my wife wouldn’t love me. I wanted to be Amy’s hero, and when I lost my job, I lost my self-respect. I couldn’t be that hero anymore. Sharon, I know right from wrong. And I just— I just did wrong.”

“What would you say to your wife, if she is possibly out there, able to see and hear you tonight?”

“I’d say: Amy, I love you. You are the best woman I have ever known. You are more than I deserve, and if you come back, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. We will find a way to put all this horror behind us, and I will be the best man in the world to you. Please come home to me, Amy.”

Just for a second, he places the pad of his index finger in the cleft of his chin, our old secret code, the one we did back in the day to swear we weren’t bullshitting each other—the dress really did look nice, that article really was solid. I am absolutely, one hundred percent sincere right now—I have your back, and I wouldn’t fuck with you .

Desi leans in front of me to break my contact with the screen and reaches for the Sancerre. “More wine, sweetheart?” he says.

“Shhh.”

He pauses the show. “Amy, you are a good-hearted woman. I know you are susceptible to … pleas. But everything he is saying is lies.”

Nick is saying exactly what I want to hear. Finally .

Desi moves around so he is staring at me full-face, completely obstructing my vision. “Nick is putting on a pageant. He wants to come off as a good, repentant guy. I’ll admit he’s doing a bang-up job. But it’s not real—he hasn’t even mentioned beating you, violating you. I don’t know what kind of hold this guy has on you. It must be a Stockholm-syndrome thing.”

“I know,” I say. I know exactly what I am supposed to say to Desi. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I haven’t felt so safe in so long, Desi, but I am still … I see him and … I’m fighting this, but he hurt me … for years.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t watch any more,” he says, twirling my hair, leaning too close.

“No, leave it on,” I say. “I have to face this. With you. I can do it with you.” I put my hand in his. Now shut the fuck up .

I just want Amy to come home so I can spend the rest of my life making it up to her, treating her how she deserves .

Nick forgives me —I screwed you over, you screwed me over, let’s make up . What if his code is true? Nick wants me back. Nick wants me back so he can treat me right. So he can spend the rest of his life treating me the way he should. It sounds rather lovely. We could go back to New York. Sales for the Amazing Amy books have skyrocketed since my disappearance—three generations of readers have remembered how much they love me. My greedy, stupid, irresponsible parents can finally pay back my trust fund. With interest.

Because I want to go back to my old life. Or my old life with my old money and my New Nick. Love-Honor-and-Obey Nick. Maybe he’s learned his lesson. Maybe he’ll be like he was before. Because I’ve been daydreaming—trapped in my Ozarks cabin, trapped in Desi’s mansion compound, I have a lot of time to daydream and what I’ve been daydreaming of is Nick in those early days. I thought I would daydream more about Nick getting ass-raped in prison, but I haven’t so much, not so much, lately. I think about those early, early days, when we would lie in bed next to each other, naked flesh on cool cotton, and he would just stare at me, one finger tracing my jaw from my chin to my ear, making me wriggle, that light tickling on my lobe, and then through all the seashell curves of my ear and into my hairline, and then he’d take hold of one lock of hair, like he did that very first time we kissed, and pull it all the way to the end and tug twice, gently, like he was ringing a bell. And he’d say, “You are better than any storybook, you are better than anything anyone could make up.”

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