The first thing I did when I arrived in New York City for fall break was sleep. The second thing I did was go to Barnes & Noble and buy Gone Girl.
I haven’t read a book–a “real book” (namely, not a textbook)–since August, and I’d been meaning to read Gone Girl for months before the movie was released. With the movie now in theaters, my attention returned to the novel. There was no way I was seeing it without first reading it.
I decided that Gone Girl would be an excellent way to pass my hours on the subway during my weekend trip. So I bought it. And that’s a big deal, because I never buy books new.
I finished the book last week. It took me a lot longer to get through than I thought it would, not for lack of enjoyment but for lack of time. I did like it: the pacing and plot line were good, the writing kept my attention, and the characters were the perfect mix of likable and flawed.
The best part about the book, though, was not the book itself. It’s that after finishing Gone Girl, I couldn’t resist starting a new book. I’d forgotten how much I love reading, getting lost in the twists and turns of a story before coming to the last page, feeling satisfied about finishing it but sad to leave behind the characters I’d grown attached to.
When I finished Gone Girl, my bedside table looked too bare. So I took Strip Tease by Carl Hiaasen (which is funny to me, since I also bought that book in NYC) from my measly collection of books I brought to school and powered through the first 50 pages before bed. It filled Gone Girl‘s vacant spot, and I’ve fallen in love with Hiaasen’s character development and dark humor.
Gone Girl got me reading again. For that, its practically-new pages deserve a permanent place on my bookshelf.