I don't usually get caught up in hyped books. Heck, I don't usually have time for books. Until now, baby! I've fallen into a jobless funk where if it doesn't concern my immediate household needs, I'm pretty much oblivious. But, I'm buzzed on reading right now, and I kept hearing talk about Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn, including some praise from one of my absolute favorite undergrad professors, a pretty brilliant mind for literature. And...
It's fantastic. Ridiculously fantastic. The descriptions are crazy good. The plot is crazy good. Each chapter is alternately narrated by the husband/wife protagonists and their reciprocal cliffhangers are crazy good. The overt profanity, however, is not crazy good. Not wholly necessary most of the time. Prudish, I'm not with quality writing, but profanity for the sake of profanity, not appreciated.
With 80 pages left, I know there's another twist, and I don't feel that I have recognized it yet. That's a delicious way to read sometimes.
I'm only up for a short post tonight, so I'm ending with a cutie bit of 3-year old erudition.
Abby and Daddy were playing tag throughout the house this evening (a favorite game). At one point, they collapsed, giggling, to catch their breaths. A moment later, Abby chirps "Okay, Daddy. I'm full of air again...let's go!"