Comparative Analysis

The Defense of Insanity

In law as in life, there is a difference between being insane and doing something insane. The former causes impaired judgment, while the latter is a conscious decision to do the unreasonable. Consequently, different levels of accountability are associated with each level of sanity; an insane person is not responsible for his/her actions, but a sane person is. Paul Lohman and Amy Dunne are narrators in the thriller novels The Dinner and Gone Girl, respectively, who straddle this line between the insane and sane. Initially, the reader is willing to trust their commentaries, as both are portrayed as the protagonists. However, halfway through both of the novels, the narrators’ true traits are revealed, and more antagonistic characters are disclosed. Issues of morality and accountability arise when the narrators act outside the realm of common ethics, and the reader is confronted with questions about their sanity. Thus, the narrators are not only similar in that they are instantly likeable and trustworthy, but also in that they exhibit disturbed personalities. As the narrators’ language becomes more inappropriate, these unsettling personalities become apparent; but while Paul appears insane, Amy appears sane. As a result of their differing sanities, the reader is left feeling differently about the narrators’ accountability.

In The Dinner by Herman Koch, the reader is first introduced to the narrator, Paul Lohman, who, because of the contrast he sets up between himself and his brother, Serge, is a likable character right away. The novel centers on a dinner attended by Paul, his brother, sister in-law, and wife. The couples’ sons were involved in the death of a homeless woman, and the purpose for the meeting is to discuss what they believe ought to be their next steps, in terms of confessing or hiding their sons’ guilt. Paul is portrayed as a doting husband and a concerned father, who puts his family’s needs above all else. He notes that his wife’s hair smells of “happiness,” and that his son’s presence was “nothing less than a gift” and “happiness too” (Koch 11 & 16). In contrast, Serge is portrayed as an arrogant man whose status, power, and influence are higher than most, including Paul. When describing Serge, Paul’s tone is one of distain and contempt. He explains that Serge made the reservation at a restaurant that typically requires a call three months in advance and quips, “Personally, I’d never want to know three months in advance where I’m going to eat on any given evening, but apparently some people don’t mind” (Koch 3). Paul is cordial, and he is not outright attacking the character of his brother. But by describing Serge as “some people,” his tone is cold and removed. He distinguishes himself from his brother’s choices and looks down on them. Paul also points out that Serge’s status allows him to make a reservation at this kind of restaurant on the day of, and his secretaries are the ones making the phone calls. Moreover, the hostesses “go faint right away when they hear the name Serge Lohman on the phone” (Koch 4). It is clear that Serge is an unattainable celebrity who is able to do as he pleases. The brothers are not close, and by hearing Paul’s perspective, the reader is inclined to dislike Serge and pity Paul’s nobody status. Whereas Paul’s affection towards his family is relatable, Serge’s status and power are not.

Similarly, in Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn, one of the narrators, Amy Dunne, is instantly likable due to her innocent and innocuous diary entries. She starts off the novel before she is married to Nick Dunne, and under her maiden name, Amy Elliot, she records their love story. The novel alternates between Nick’s present day perspective and Amy’s past diary entries, which are presented as Nick struggles to cope with her disappearance. Throughout the three parts of the book, different things are revealed about Amy’s disappearance and the person responsible. Initially, through the diary, Amy is depicted as a young girl whose infatuation dominates her thoughts. Her simplistic and optimistic writing suggests that she is not a complex character. The reader is first introduced with, “Tra and la! I am smiling a big adopted-orphan smile as I write this…I met a boy!” (Flynn 10). Amy’s first sentence is a declaration of bliss, and she uses “Tra and la” to highlight her uplifted attitude and cheery demeanor. She sounds like a young girl who has just heard good news; her choice of words does not indicate seriousness or preoccupation. Moreover, the subject of the happiness is her meeting a boy, which seems frivolous, not of great significance. With this subject as the reader’s first impression, the rest of the diary entries are read in a similar, optimistic, breathy voice, and Amy appears innocent, peaceful, and idyllic. This type of subject matter and tone continue throughout the first entry, when she meets Nick and states, “His name is Nick. I love it. It makes him seem nice, and regular, which he is” (Flynn 13). While she does describe the meeting more in depth, her initial short, simple statements of fact make her mindset appear one-dimensional. She is focused on superficial and basic qualities, and she chooses to record them in her diary, as opposed to contemplating her emotions and reflecting more eloquently. In this sense, Amy is likable and trusted, because she is simple and innocent.

Discernably, Paul and Amy’s tones and observations about other characters at the beginning of the novels render them protagonists, but their language does not portray them in this manner for long. In The Dinner, Paul’s perspective is the only one presented, so the reader views everything from his lens. They trust his assertions and evaluations, and there is nothing to suggest that Paul deviates from this likable persona. In Gone Girl, Amy’s diary entries are presented alongside Nick’s present-day account, which complicates how the reader views the story. The accounts are read more critically, because there are two sides to struggle with, but there is not yet evidence to suggest that either side is more trustworthy than the other. So although Amy’s entries are read with a grain of salt, neither her language nor her tone of voice deters the reader from believing Amy to be the protagonist. However, as the plots of both novels develop, the narrators’ language changes. Their tones of voice become harsher, their language becomes more inappropriate, and their cool demeanors are maintained while discussing their deplorable actions. These departures from their initial personas depict them as disturbed.

For Paul, his use of inappropriate language and his lack of remorse are unsettling and demonstrate his morally averse character. Set up as a flashback, Paul tells the story of his struggles teaching history when Michel was a baby. He describes his past self as worn out and lacking direction, and after taking some time off to travel by himself, he breaks down in class. He states to his students, “’You might ask yourself how many people there would be if the Second World War had not taken place at all…If everyone had been able to just go on fucking’” (Koch 173). His casual use of the word “fucking” in a formal environment is disconcerting. As an authority figure, he ought to be composed and speak in an academic manner. By swearing in front of his students in such a vulgar tone, it is clear that he either does not understand social norms, or if he does, he chooses to ignore them. When confronted by the principal, Paul explains that he also lectured his class about the injustice of putting all the WWII victims’ names on memorials, because, statistically speaking, many of them were probably “assholes” (Koch 176). Again, his use of the word “assholes” in describing victims of war is shocking; sensitivity would be expected in discussing such a serious and weighty topic as war and the loss of life. In this sense, Paul presents himself as lacking empathy. Moreover, by remaining silent and not addressing his students after this statement, it is clear that he does not recognize the error of his ways; he does not show any sign of regret. In speaking with the principal, he does not back off from his claims, nor does he try to rectify himself. He continues to support his disturbing viewpoints and logic.

In another flashback, Paul’s violent and dramatic action while defending his son further confirm a dark side to his character, and his explanation for the violent response is chilling. He tells another story of an encounter with Michel’s principal brought about by a paper about the death penalty. Paul had helped Michel, and its resulting contents were unsettling; in it Michel suggests that the death penalty be set aside for a swifter, easier form of punishment. Namely, suspects ought to be thrown out the window or shot in the back of the head (Koch 255-256). The principal expresses concern to Paul, and when his tone becomes accusatory, Paul responds by gruesomely assaulting him (Koch 263). Their fistfight eventually moves towards the window, and Paul looks out to see Michel on the playground. Paul contends that, “the wave and smile [to his son] were meant to show that…it probably looked worse than it was. That I’d had an argument…but that in the meantime everything had come closer to being sorted out” (Koch 264). Instead of lamenting that his son has seen him lose his temper, Paul holds that he did the right thing in defending his son and demonstrating that violence was an acceptable way to win an argument. The combination of Paul’s actions and explanation paint a picture of a man who lacks morality and who has no problem teaching his son his troubled ways.

For Amy, in Part II of Gone Girl, her new authoritative and scheming voice presents her as a completely different, antagonistic narrator. All at once, the reader becomes aware that all of the diary entries in Part I were written by Amy a few months before she organized her own disappearance. Her narrative voice changes completely from that of an innocent young girl to that of a smart, manipulative, mindful woman. After this reveal, Amy directly addresses the reader with, “Don’t fret, we’ll sort this out: the true and the not true and the might as well be true” (Flynn 219). By talking down to the reader, and offering reassurance that they will soon understand all that she understands, Amy switches the power dynamic. Although the reader was in a more knowledgeable position at first, Amy is now in a place of control. She comforts the reader with her direction, “Don’t fret,” almost as if talking to a child. The reader is left feeling shocked and duped, because the narrator that she trusted has turned out to be a completely different person than who was initially portrayed. When explaining her reasons behind faking her disappearance and framing her husband, Amy contends that she had a fake persona and a true persona, the person who is narrating at this point. She quotes a diary entry and states, “That was pure, dumb Cool Girl bullshit. What a cunt” (Flynn 225). This language is a complete departure from what is familiar, and it is shocking in its vulgarity and harshness. Again, Amy’s tone is one of authority, due to her attack on what is perceived to be normal and acceptable to the reader. Amy’s abrasiveness helps her to maintain her powerful status, and she tells it how she sees it, without concern for appearances or judgment. Her confidence in her assertions is intimidating, and it is clear that this is no longer the voice of an innocent girl. The tone and opinions voiced in this section paint Amy as a dark and aggressive narrator, and the revelation of her lies exposes her as manipulative.

Part III of the novel, is written in a similar tone as the previous Part, but furthers Amy’s characterization as calculating and devious. She returns home after framing a man for her kidnapping and torture, and the description of her actions is surgical in its precision and remoteness. Although an expected response would be one of fear or guilt, her voice remains harsh and imposing. Amy’s first statement is, “I still have Desi’s semen inside me…so the medical examination goes fine. My rope-wreathed wrists, my damaged vagina, my bruises—the body I present them is textbook” (Flynn 374). There is a lack of emotion in her account, because she merely lists off these aspects of her deception. However, the phrase “the body I present them is textbook,” reveals Amy’s sense of pride. She is pleased that she was able to go through with her plans without any setbacks, even though all of her actions were despicable and manipulative, and she hurt several people in the process. Additionally, she develops a more cruel and uncaring tone. When a detective seeks to comfort and then question her, Amy says about her, “I find ugly women are usually overly deferential or incredibly rude” (Flynn 375). Amy’s use of the word “ugly” underscores her nastiness and coldness. As opposed to understanding the detective’s point of view, or at least pretending to, Amy seeks to cut her down and describe her physical appearance, something not of importance in the scene. She has moved past maintaining a cruel, blunt voice just to advance her goals; she is now a cruel person for the sake of being cruel.

Although both Paul and Amy’s language is abrasive and shocking, there are differences that highlight Paul as insane and Amy as sane. The fact that Paul’s instances of disturbing viewpoints and actions are set up as flashbacks demonstrates that his twisted morality is a continuation of his past character. His outbursts are not planned, and he simply reacts as he thinks he should. He is vulgar and violent, but he is unaware that his actions are wrong; else he would lament his wrongdoings and teach his son to do better. Moreover, Paul’s directness to the principals and the reader validates his belief in his disturbed viewpoints. If he were aware that he was in the wrong, he would be more apologetic and try harder to adhere to social norms. In contrast, Amy’s comprehensive plan for revenge demonstrates her sane ability to calculate cruelty. She writes an entire diary in the span of a few months in order to create an innocent persona. Her authoritative and devious tone paints her as a woman who does not care that what she is doing is wrong. She manipulates the reader and the people around her, and she remains mysterious. Her plan is insane, but she is not.

Consequently, Paul appears less accountable for his actions than Amy. Paul, being insane, is unaware of his wrongdoings, and he is unable to recognize points on a moral compass. The reader is left feeling perturbed, but aware of the limits of Paul’s logic. He is not held completely responsible, because his disturbance is out of his control. Yet Amy, being sane, is aware of social norms, but she chooses to ignore morality. Her willingness to commit crimes and her cruel nature cause her actions to be seen as completely her own responsibility. Thus the reader’s response to The Dinner is more upset, and the response to Gone Girl is more shock and terror. It is concerning that someone would share Paul’s opinions, but because he is not accountable, the reader is inclined to view this story as rare and unrealistic. It seems unlikely that an encounter with Paul’s sort of character would happen and escalate into something worse, because you would be able to pick up right away on his insanity and lack of social norms. But Amy is presented as a smart woman who knows exactly what she is doing. Her awareness of her disturbance and her disregard for anything moral is concerning. While an encounter with a character like Amy also seems unlikely, her ability to appear sane in the public makes you wonder if it is possible. You would not be aware of someone sane and like Amy living among you, and this reality is more chilling than the possibility of insanity.

Works Cited

Flynn, Gillian. Gone Girl. New York: Random House, 2012. Print.

Koch, Herman. The Dinner. New York: Hogarth, 2013. Print.