The narrative of the American patriarchy paints women to be meek and incapable of their own assertions, ambitions, and brilliance. And God forbid they display any of these traits, the dismissive explanation has always been that they are crazy, hysterical. The hysterical woman has been a trope in media for centuries, in modern history with the unsatisfied hysterical woman taking on the form of women like Sylvia Plath and Virginia Woolf; sullen and discontent. It is incomprehensible to some men that women can be brilliant, intelligent, and cunning, without having some sort of deficiency in the brain, and the fates (suicides) of the aforementioned “tragic women” only confirm these prejudiced suspicions. And if the explanation is not in the brain, then it is in their connection to God; religion has been used to argue the lack of sanity in women for ages. The underlying theme, though, is a hatred of strong, intelligent women. Hatred in this from can only come down to one of two sources: ignorance and fear. And while discrediting the hatred of women in history to just be one born of ignorance, the men of this world, unfortunately, could not be labeled as such. The alternative, however, reveals men as more pathetic than stupidity could ever cultivate, scared. The genius of Fynn’s writing is that she takes this fear and makes it a reality, with her main character, Amy Dunne, being everything men expect to happen when women have agency.
In Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl, Flynn takes the trope of the unsatisfied, morose housewife, one who sits at the window with her wine in a perpetual state of grief and apathy, and gives her agency in the form of Amy Dunne. The hysterical woman, the counter to the perfect American housewife: jubilant in her affairs to raise children, serve her husband and her community, is now not a victim, but a hero. Nick Dunne, Amy’s husband in the book, and most likely the majority of Flynn’s readers, see Amy as a crazy psychopath, nothing more. This reduction of what really is an icon of feminism and women’s independence is a cruel misunderstanding of the book. A misunderstanding that is at best a clumsy interpretation, and at worst, the same depletion of women that has been perpetuated by the world’s oppressors. The main character, Amy Dunne, is cold, calculating, disciplined, and most importantly, terrifying. However, she is not the villain. Amy Dunne is seen as the villain by her opposition: Nick Dunne (her husband), who is above all, scared of Amy. This fear of Amy, while satisfying, is a callous form of cowardice, cowardice that ultimately manifests itself as the sexism and misogyny seen in all of Western society. Because for the amount that men in history and the men in this book have shrunk down the presence of women to be as insignificant and pathetic as they wish, it is clear that this hatred comes out of fear. The trademark of Nick’s character, his fear of strong women, is a representation of the fear that Western society holds of the same archetype. The idea of a strong woman not chained down by the oppressions of sexism and misogyny is so unyielding and threatening to the systems men have built to keep themselves in control, that they must diminish any possibility of strength in women. This diminishing has been carried out in history with many different mechanisms, and the one Flynn writes about is the glorification and qualification of her coined Cool Girl.
Gone Girl is famous for the Cool Girl monologue, an address from Amy’s conscious explaining who exactly the Cool Girl is, and how she is a figment. From pages 250 to 252, The Cool Girl is explained as the ultimate desire, she is what men want, and because women want to be desired by men, they become her. The Cool Girl is a demonstration of the tragedy of sexism. A woman having a ring on her finger, a man on her arm, is the ideal that the majority of Western society has taught young girls to yearn for; not only yearn for but need. And when a woman needs something, she will do anything to get it, including, most tragically, erasing her identity. When a woman turns herself into the Cool Girl, she sacrifices her individuality for the illusion. If each woman’s life sacrificed to fill the mold of Cool Girl could be counted, the death toll would be in the billions. The death of the individual is so subtle, so invisible, that arguing for the legitimacy of these crimes is imprecise, though not to Flynn. This sacrifice of the individual is the murder of Amy, the crime for which she feels justified to avenge. Amy asserts that Nick killed her, or more specifically, “He killed my soul, which should be a crime. Actually, it is a crime. According to me, at least” (page 268). Amy’s plan cannot be described any better than poetic justice. Nick Dunne killed her soul, he made her be the Cool Girl, so she killed herself, in turn destroying his life. It is this vengeance that makes Gone Girl a true piece of feminist literature, on pare with works such as Isabella by John Keats, and The Awakening by Kate Chopin. The true feminism and liberation in this novel come from Amy’s reveling in her own madness, or absolute clarity, it can be argued. After all, who’s to say they aren’t the same thing?
The actions Amy takes to carry out her plan of vengeance: framing one for murder, murdering, mutilating her own body, are all objectively hysterical acts. Though the way in which Flynn writes Amy’s character, there is no end to the intelligence and tact Amy possesses, making it impossible not to admire and root for her. The question of whether Amy was completely sane, or embracing her insanity is one that can only be answered by the subjective reader. The question one should ask themself, and the one Nick asks himself, is which is more terrifying? Nick’s insistence of her craziness, his assertion that Amy is a “’Psycho bitch’” (page 441) is just another manifestation of the fear he has of strong women. Because, as Amy so eloquently puts it, “It’d be so easy, for him to write me off that way. He’d love that, to be able to dismiss me so simply” (page 441). Nick needs to dismiss her as crazy, because the other option is that she is just a brilliant woman, which Nick cannot have because he is just a “woman-fearing man” (page 441). Perhaps Nick doesn’t see her cunning and is just ignorant. Either way, he does not appreciate Amy the way she deserves, lending the ending of this book, where the two lovebirds reunite and start a family, a not only sinister, but heartbreaking quality.
Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl is a masterpiece of feminist literature, using the trope of the hysterical woman to its full advantage, exposing the harrowing capabilities (erasure of women’s identities) of sexism, and the consequences of fear.
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