“There’s something comforting about the sight of strangers safe at home.”
They said if you like Gone Girl then You’ll like The Girl on the Train, and they were right, though not for the reasons I assumed, because it turned out the two books weren’t particularly alike, but they were both enjoyable reads.
The Girl on the Train refers to alcoholic divorcee who every day on her morning commute to work passes a row of houses that back onto the train tracks. In one of the houses she sees a young and beautiful family and daydreams about the happy life she assumes they are living, the kind she herself has been robbed of. But one morning she witnesses something that shatters her illusions of the family’s ideal life and sets in motion a series of events that prove nothing and nobody is as perfect as they may appear.
Because I’d read/watched Gone Girl before reading this, I had certain expectations that the books would be more similar than they are (which I think may have been an intended red herring to lead the reader to the wrong conclusions). Yes, it’s a bit of a who-done-it and yes there’s a fair amount of mental going around, but for me the comparison ends there. While both books tell the stories of women made into victims of deteriorating relationships, the responses they make to their spouse’s neglect couldn’t be more different.