Gillian Flynn has her own nasty thing going, and the Nerd digs the living shit out of it. With just two novels, Sharp Objects and Dark Places, Flynn has carved out a space in the crime fiction world that is entirely her own. Her books are half gothic horror, half shock-twist thriller, and a hundred percent skin-crawlingly creepy.
Dark Places is about Libby Day, the sole survivor of a famous murder case from the mid-eighties. Her brother hacked up her mom and two sisters when she was seven, Libby narrowly escaping to later testify against him at his trial. Libby has survived the last quarter-century on money donated by anonymous kind souls who want to lend a hand to a famous tragic figure while her brother has rotted away in jail. But now she’s in her thirties and can’t exactly be called “little” Libby anymore, and the fund has finally run dry. So what is a girl who has lived off of charity and wallowed in depression for her entire adult life to do in such dire times? Why, do a paid appearance at a creepy “Kill Club” convention of course.
But when she shows up to the convention, she finds out that all in attendance believe that her testimony was bullshit and that her brother is innocent. Not only are these obsessives (I cannot relate at all…) lousy with theories, they’re also willing to pay her to interview certain key players about the case. Who better to get access to a three-decades-old case than the lone survivor, right? Though skeptical, Libby decides to take the case – I mean, she could use the cash something fierce. And sure enough, she finds that maybe these “solvers” aren’t as bat-shit fucking nuts as she first believed….
The structure of the book is what really makes the tension absolutely fucking unbearable with this motherfucker. Flynn alternates between present day Libby Day (sorry) and her investigation, and the perspectives of both her mother and her brother on the day of the murders. Throughout the story we’re dished out little bits of information that tell the real story, until the inevitable dual climaxes of both the mid-eighties murder and present-day Libby’s findings come barreling down on your ass in the book’s home stretch.
Now the story is dark and the twist both ridiculous and fucking gorgeous pulp awesomeness, but what really sets Flynn apart is that her mysteries always (I’m talking about two books, mind you, like her style is already set in stone or some shit. Jesus, I’m an ass) have these odd little quirks that make them hit home so much more than the average pop-fiction pot-boiler. In Sharp Objects you had the lead character’s very disturbing mommy issues and her horrifying habit of cutting herself. In Dark Places you have the fascinating world of solvers and kill clubbers along with a very knowing exploration of the 1980’s “Satanism Scare” (if you haven’t seen the documentary Paradise Lost, fucking do so). By using these fascinating pieces of lore, she manages to draw you in that much more, but not without the help of her spectacular character work. Flynn brings you deep into the heads of the guilty and not-guilty alike, exposing their flaws and their troubles and never ceasing to keep you anything less than fucking riveted no matter what the fuck is going on.
So take a chance, my dear basement crazies, and get yourself some Flynn. This is pop crime fiction served just right. It’s dark enough for the junkies and fascinating enough for the middle-of-the-roaders to keep turning pages and dreading the bloody, shocking outcome.
