The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins

From one girl on a train amounting to an 817 page journey, to Paula Hawkins’ zippy thriller which I powered though on a weekend bender.

The Girl on the Trailer was everywhere in 2016. I managed to miss it as I wasn’t sure it would match up the psychotic brilliance of Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl. It was pitched as the next best thing and although I very much enjoyed the delivery, the big reveal didn’t hit me as much as I’d hoped. Partially because I had made the stupid error of watching the trailer for the Emily Blunt adaptation, which was fired out by Universal Studios before the printed pages of the paperback had time to cool.

The book is set in England in 2013 and deals with Rachel, angst-ridden 30-something divorcee who is an alcoholic. Not the cider in park kinda gal, she likes to blackout on premixed cans of G&T and couple bottles of wine a day. There is a knowingness in the copy former journalist Hawkins provides, a shout out to the reader she and Transworld have successfully reached. The reader is a female professional, who commutes to work and wants a light paperback to breeze through on the journey home to Witney, Ashbury, Norwich, or Ipswich – or any apparently London-centric train station they feel like reppin. The Mailonline is even given a big-up. Despite all of this obviously marketability that The Girl on the Train exudes, I lapped it all up.

The short and snappy writing tapped out a compelling story about addiction and obsession which whizzed by in two afternoons. I personally wouldn’t say the trip was too twisty turny – if you have read Before I Go to Sleep by S.J. Watson you will be able to spot the play on memory loss a mile off. Nevertheless the figuring out whodunit before the reveal gives the knowitall reader a little treat and doesn’t make the read less rewarding.