Writing the Vulnerable: 'The Girl on the Train' Review

9B1CB135-F296-4AC0-8F6B-6B162B135F21.jpg

The Girl on the Train is a story primarily from the perspective of Rachel, a depressed alcoholic who catches the same commuter train each morning and evening. From her window seat, she glimpses brief moments in the lives of those living along the train track. The predictable normalcy of her window watching is shattered when the illusion of perfection cracks in her favourite couple. Soon, Rachel is caught up in a mystery far out of her control.

To say reading this book is like watching a train wreck may be an understatement. I found myself binging this book even as I shook my head, appalled at the main character’s (Rachel) decisions. All three character perspectives provide the reader with an unreliable narrator, the extent of which is revealed at the end. While I hesitate to throw content warnings out about books, one does go along with my rating.

CW/TW: Gas lighting, emotional abuse, domestic abuse. 4/5 stars.


WRITING THE VULNERABLE

Below are plenty of spoilers. As ‘The Girl on the Train’ is a suspense thriller novel, proceed at your own risk!

I don’t like reading first person perspective, but Paula Hawkins’ novel could not be written any other way. To be in Rachel, Anna, or Megan’s heads keeps you guessing. Hawkin’s plants red herrings beautifully and believably considering the deeply unreliable nature of the primary protagonist. But the truly brilliant aspect of Hawkin’s writing, is how well she portrays abuse.

Rachel, Anna, and Megan are all victims of abuse. Like many victims, they make excuses for their abusers. They normalize awful actions. Until it’s pointed out, they believe their relationships are perfectly normal. One of the abusers, Scott, believes he’s helping Megan — an important point to show. Abuse is still abuse, whether or not the abuser realizes it. Relationships have, and need, boundaries.

On the flip side, there is Tom. A character who knows what hes doing is wrong, but continues to do so anyway as it makes his world more comfortable. The way Hawkin’s reveals this abuse is slow, delicate, and horrifying. A masterful way of explaining why it can be so difficult to spot abusers, as well as leave them.

Perhaps the greatest strength of this story is that, despite abuse appearing normal to the main characters, it is called out by the secondary characters. It is shown as unhealthy. The cycle is shown as destructive. It isn’t romanticized to the reader. It isn’t disguised as ‘true love’ as many abusive relationships in fiction are (see books like Uprooted, or the low hanging fruit like Twilight or 50 Shades of Grey).

I recommend reading this book, but be careful of any personal triggers.

-LJ


Want to support what we do here?
Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com