Nighttime. A deserted underpass. Vague memories, enhanced with the stupor of drunkenness. What is real? What is a figment of the girl’s imagination?
Memories, some clear, some fragmented. To add to the confusion, alcohol plays a deadly factor in the search for truth, not to mention, a drunk’s confession doesn’t hold any credibility in a court of law: Justice is blind yet it is prejudiced if the witness appears intoxicated.
Twice, every day, Rachel takes the train. Once in the morning. Then, on her way home in the evening. On her journey, the train always happens to stop at a particular junction, where she has a view of a particular house. A couple seems to live there, whom she’s fondly nicknamed Jess and Jason, and she’s built a lovable story around them. Their perfect relationship, and their strong marriage, is something that Rachel wishes she had in her own life.
Then the unthinkable happens. Rachel sees something that she interprets as not quite right. The next day, Jess…”the woman”…goes missing.
Does The Girl On The Train really glue the pieces together on what actually happened?
The author is wonderfully talented in the art of storytelling. The juxtaposition between the morning and evening train rides, intertwined with layers of the story unfolding, in the midst of also juggling between timelines, is beautifully told. To add to that, is a simplicity of the storytelling where the pages seem to turn themselves without a doubt of confusion in the reader’s mind about context or the narrator. (Did I mention, that each chapter has a different narrator that motors the story along?) I imagine hundreds of Post-it® notes during the writing process, colour coordinated and impeccably arranged.