Last night before I slipped off to blissful sleep I finished Gillian Flynn's debut novel, Sharp Objects. First, let me start with the negative criticism. I love her stories, but I do believe that I had this objection of her other two novels as well. They end too quickly, too abruptly. Sharp Objects has such an epic build but it's filled with a somewhat obvious ending that comes too fast. This is a mystery/psychological thriller novel, and I had my opinions early on concerning who I thought the killer was. Turns out both of my assumptions ended up being correct in their own ways.
It's not a new story in my opinion but it adds a new twist when we meet our main character, Camille. Camille has a history of cutting herself. Words - she cuts words all over her body, and it's this deeper edge to her ... that vivid outside representation of her internal scars that makes her an intriguing character. You are rooting for her to return to her home down, a place that has damaged her psyche and her physique, to write about two serial murders of two young girls. Girls that we find out are damaged and wild just like she was.
Camille lives in Chicago writing for a second-rate paper, and she considers herself to be a second-rate journalist. This story could be a big break for both her own career and the future of her paper. When her boss advises her to give it a shot and head down to Missouri, a place that is painted as being more Deep South than Midwest, Camille's old-time anxiety and panic rise up to terrify her, but she manages to wrench her hands free of the chair she is sitting in and head down to Wind Gap, Missouri to write about horrific events happening there and face the demons of her past life as well. And when I say demons ... I mean her family. She refers to herself as white trash from old money ... but we soon find out that appearance is everything in her family household, and she obviously doesn't fit that bill. She also lacks the self-confidence, submissive mindset, "southern" poise, and placid personality that pleases her mother, the matriarch of Wind Gap - Adora. In addition to the powerful and unloving Adora, Camille must face a sister she doesn't know, Amma (who acts like a china doll at home and a 13-year-old-street-whore outside of it), and then there's the outsider cop brought in to solve the murders from Kansas City who she may just have a crush on, the old friends she no longer fits in with, and finally the families and residents of Wind Gap who just really don't want to talk to her at all.
Camille is obviously put off by her southern Missouri upbringing and as previously mentioned is incredibly reluctant to return to her home town, especially to investigate the murders of two little girls. So while we may be rooting for her to survive this trip, we find out quite fast that this is not going to be a welcome homecoming for her, and she will constantly struggle to find her footing. Being back in Wind Gap leads our psychologically damaged heroine to become awash in alcohol, twitch at the sight of sharp objects, and torment her mother. Tormenting her mother is not hard considering that years ago Camille's little sister, Marian, had died from a terrible sickness, and it becomes evident that Marian was the favorite child, and at one point Adora even remarks that it should have been Camille and not her darling little sister. Every time that Adora sees Camille working on the murder cases she freaks out - further widening the gap between her and her daughter.
As the case goes on with no visible leads in sight, and the cops aren't leaking any information to Camille, she starts to drink even more and judge herself more harshly as an incompetent second-rate journalist. She is hindered by her mother's reproaches and the wariness of her small town neighbors. As time drags on, the tension between Camille and Adora grows stronger. Amma has a tantrum one day, and Camille remarks upon how it's strange for a 13-year old to throw such a fit, at which time Adora tells her daughter, "Yes, well, you weren't exactly placid yourself at that age." Camille stands up as she tries to dissect that comment - did her mother mean her 'cutting, her crying jags over her lost sister, her overactive sex life ...'
Her stepfather asks her to sit down and then questions Camille about the good feedback she is receiving as a journalist in Chicago, to which she replies "Well, I've been doing some more high-profile stories. I've covered three murders just since the beginning of the year." Camille's mother, ever the reproachful one, replies "And that's a good thing, Camille? ... I will never understand where your penchant for ugliness comes froLm. Seems like you have enough of that in your life without deliberately seeking it out." And then her mother laughs - a shrill sounding laugh.
"Every tragedy that happens in the world happens to my mother, and this more than anything about her turns my stomach. She worries over people she's never met who have a spell of bad chance. She cries over news from across the globe. It's all too much for her, the cruelty of human beings."
This book exposes the cruelty of human beings, the emptiness of women, the feeling of being barren even if you do produce children, the judgment one passes down on victims, and the feeling of being targeted for something you didn't commit. Sharp Objects is indeed a great debut novel, and no one can deny that Gillian Flynn's other books are just as twisted and delightful. Okay, I don't know if I'd call this novel delightful, but it's extremely engaging. Again, I only wish that the ending was packed with just as much punch as the rest of the story. It lacked the tension and attention needed for such a moment of discovery. 
Read Sharp Objects, and if you haven't already give her other two novels a shot, Dark Places and Gone Girl. She's a great author, truly, and her books can foster some great discussions. Sharp Objects is a novel that forced me to examine my own demons, my own times where I sought out a love that was damaged and just not there, and it pushed me to at times question my own coping mechanisms for when things get ridiculously hard.
I'm moving on to The Silent Wife, described by author Sophie Hannah as "better than Gillian Flynn's Gone Girl. A must read for anyone who is occasionally ruthless, reckless, or ... loves clever books with depth and heart." That sounds like a great invitation to me. Check by in a day or two for my opinion on A.S.A. Harrison's The Silent Wife. Let's examine if she can pull off mystery better than Mrs. Flynn.
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