I loved The Girl On The Train. Seriously loved it. I loved it so much I had to take a reading break when I finished to let it soak into my psyche.
Rachel rides the train back and forth to London every day, becoming obsessed with a certain house. In her mind, she has a fantasy created about the perfect couple dwelling within. They are gorgeous, well-off, and adore each other.
Eventually we find out that Rachel is intimately acquainted with the neighborhood because she once lived there, just a few doors down from her fantasy house. She lived there until her husband divorced her and replaced her with his pregnant mistress–now his new wife.
Rachel is an active alcoholic, drinking on the train, drinking in the station, drinking in the streets. She’s a hot-mess. At first glance, you want to shake her and tell her to get her shit together. Then she starts to grow on you. You see a little more humanity in her. A little more you…
Rachel’s life takes a turn when she wakes one Sunday on the far side of a blackout. She’s bruised and aching. Flashes of what might have happened scare her. The front page of the morning paper terrifies her. Her fantasy woman is missing and the husband is the prime suspect in her disappearance.
But Rachel knows something about the missing woman…something she saw on one of her trips…there was another man…
I came across this book by accident. I read it because it was compared to Gone Girl (which I reviewed here), which I liked but couldn’t relate to the characters much. I thought it might be the same with The Girl On The Train. That wasn’t the case. But I will share that there are pathological characters in this book.
This is a book that begs to be re-read. It needs to be savored, but you want to read as fast as possible to get through the story.
The moral of the story: things are never as they seem.