I stated to read The Girl on the Train with the high hopes that it would be a good book. Mistake number one. I kept on reading because I assumed it would get better, mistake number two. I finished the book thinking there’s no way the end could be rubbish, I’m clearly a fool.
The Girl on the Train is about a young woman, Rachel Watson, who develops an unhealthy obsession with a young couple that she sees on the train everyday. She creates names for them, imagines what their life is like and thoroughly invests her time in imagining that they have an ideal marriage. After her own failed marriage, Rachel is desperate (I use this word kindly because what I really want to say is psychotic) to hang on to hope that love does exist. You find out early on that Rachel is an alcoholic and a self-destructive human being. In situations where a normal person would walk away Rachel hurtles forward as if reason and rationality are foreign to her. When Megan, one half of the couple she obsesses over, goes missing, Rachel appoints herself the Nancy Drew of the case. To make things even more murky, Rachel was drunk the night Megan went missing and she also happened to be in the area where Megan was last seen, thus leading the reader into a never ending pity party of self-doubt, angst and “omg did I do it?”.
There are a few reasons I despised this book:
– The character is unbelievable. I get it, Rachel is a drunk and drunks can be irrational. However, throughout the whole book I found myself thinking that she is just not believable as a person or a character. No one behaves that way, no one thinks that way. It made for a cringe worthy read.
– The pathetic female role goes to Rachel for sure but if her drunken crap wasn’t enough to make you want to rip up the book the author did you the courtesy of adding two more nauseating female roles.
– I don’t know why, maybe it’s because the novel was written in diary form but there was something about it that reminded me of Gone Girl, which if you read my review last year you would know I also hated.
In conclusion, maybe I’m a book snob or maybe as I grow older I’ve become sick of the weak female role but this book was a waste of reading time. The only redeeming quality it had is that I was fired up to write this review and warn you all.
And not enjoying it one bit. Stay tuned for my review!
I hate when the dream falls into
the edge of consciousness
don’t forget me
The Nature of the Beast is a stellar novel and once again Louise Penny outdoes herself. In this latest instalment, Armand Gamache is faced with the death of a little boy from the village. Known for crying wolf and claiming that monsters and aliens lurk in the woods, the murder comes as a shock to the quiet community of Three Pines. The murder of Laurent is further complicated by the appearance of a giant gun in the woods. Who built it and why is it hidden in a quiet Quebec village?
There is a simple reason why I love the Armand Gamache series; the imagery is brilliant. It doesn’t get very cold in Vancouver and it snows only sporadically so when winter rolls around I crave snow, a fireplace and below zero temperature, and Louise Penny delivers every-time. The characters invite you into their lives, serve you a steaming cup of apple cider with a chocolate croissant and tell you about their latest troubles. It’s a brilliant series and I cannot wait to read more. This book, this series, is a must read for any book lover looking to get lost in a small village in the middle of winter.
We live in a world where social media is everything. We document what food we eat, what clothes we where, who we love and where we go as if the only way we can feel good about ourselves is if we recieve validation from someone else. We yearn for the “likes” on Instagram and Facebook and Twitter because somehow it makes us feel like we’ve accomplished something but the sad truth is we have not.
I’m ashamed to admit that up until today I spent countless hours on Instagram looking at fitness pages, skinny girls, clothes and make up. The thought “damn I wish I looked like that” crossed my mind probably a thousand times. I’m in my mid twenties now and although I have my insecurities I know that I’m not going to starve myself or go broke trying to look like the insta famous girls on social media, but what about the man, woman or child who will?
When I was thirteen I hated how I looked but I was lucky because 12 years ago social media wasn’t a thing. Yes there were magazines that were photoshopped that we all crooned over but we didn’t have the monster of social media lurking in our room. Now, young generations have Instagram, Facebook and all sorts of other platforms to make them feel insecure, to make them feel that validation only comes in the form of social media likes.
This needs to stop. We need to create change. We need to teach our children that the things they see on social media are not real. We need to talk about the definition of contrived and fake. We need to be more reactive to how social media is shaping our lives.
This post was inspired by the lovely and inspirational Essena Oneill. She was an insta famous entrepeneur and now she’s spreading the word about the social media lie. Check out her Instagram page for more details
Books of course…
Stay turned for my reviews!