04 Nov Book Review: “The Girl on the Train” by Paula Hawkins

I remember picking up The Girl on the Train during a particularly dreary weekend. It had that slick “bestseller” stamp and that promise of dark intrigue that just grabs you by the collar, especially when you’re in the mood for a story you can get lost in. Plus, I’ve got this soft spot for mysteries with a good unreliable narrator—probably something I picked up after reading Gone Girl years back. I thought I was ready for a suburban thriller, but The Girl on the Train still threw me for a loop with its twists and tangled lives. Let’s just say, Hawkins knows how to reel you in and leave you questioning every character, even the ones you think are safe bets.

What’s it about?

The Girl on the Train follows Rachel Watson, a woman stuck in a spiral of loss and self-destruction. Her daily routine revolves around a monotonous train commute into London, one she clings to as a lifeline to maintain the illusion of normalcy. Recently divorced and struggling with alcoholism, Rachel has lost her job but continues riding the train to avoid telling her roommate the truth about her unemployment. The train ride becomes her solace, a place where she can escape her own reality by observing the lives of strangers outside her window.

Among the houses Rachel passes daily is one belonging to a couple she nicknames “Jess and Jason.” In Rachel’s mind, they’re everything she isn’t—happy, successful, deeply in love. She romanticizes their lives, imagining the kind of perfect relationship she once had with her ex-husband, Tom. But Rachel’s own perception is far from reliable. Her dependence on alcohol and fragmented memories blur the line between reality and imagination, making her an increasingly uncertain narrator.

One day, Rachel’s carefully crafted fantasy about “Jess and Jason” is shattered. From her usual spot on the train, she witnesses something shocking—a fleeting but unmistakable act of betrayal that contradicts her idyllic view of their relationship. Soon after, she learns that “Jess,” whose real name is Megan Hipwell, has gone missing. Rachel becomes obsessed with Megan’s disappearance, convinced that what she saw is a vital clue. Desperate to matter and to escape her own failures, Rachel inserts herself into the investigation, contacting the police and even Scott Hipwell, Megan’s husband.

As Rachel digs deeper, her obsession with Megan leads her into a tangled web of lies, infidelity, and secrets. Her investigation forces her to confront her own past, including her fractured relationship with Tom and the events that led to her downward spiral. Adding to the complexity is Anna, Tom’s new wife and the woman he left Rachel for. Anna views Rachel as a volatile, intrusive ex who can’t let go of the past, while Rachel sees Anna as a reminder of her own inadequacies and loss.

The narrative alternates between the perspectives of Rachel, Megan, and Anna, each revealing their own truths and lies. Megan’s chapters unveil a troubled history marked by secrets and betrayal, adding layers to her disappearance. Anna’s perspective offers insight into her marriage with Tom, exposing cracks in the image of domestic bliss she projects.

As Rachel continues to investigate, she begins to recover fragments of her memory from the night Megan disappeared. What initially seems like a drunken blur gradually sharpens into something far more sinister. The more she uncovers, the more Rachel realizes that the lives of Megan, Anna, and even Tom are far from the perfect images they project. Her search for answers brings her dangerously close to the truth, forcing her to confront her own vulnerabilities and the darker sides of those she once trusted.

The climax reveals shocking twists about Megan’s fate and exposes the depth of deceit that permeates the lives of all three women. Rachel’s journey is one of not only solving the mystery of Megan’s disappearance but also rediscovering her own agency and sense of self-worth amidst the chaos of her fractured world.

Ultimately, The Girl on the Train is a psychological thriller that explores themes of obsession, memory, and the often hidden turmoil beneath seemingly perfect lives. Through its layered perspectives and unreliable narrators, it keeps readers guessing until the very end.

What This Chick Thinks

I’m giving this book a solid 9/10 because, frankly, it delivered exactly the kind of intense, moody, psychological thriller experience I wanted. Right off the bat, I was hooked by Rachel’s perspective—she’s messy, unreliable, and honestly, a bit of a trainwreck herself (pun intended). Hawkins does this incredible job of making you sympathize with her, even when you’re frustrated by her choices. Her voice felt so raw and real; you can sense how lost she feels, and that vulnerability makes her a compelling narrator. Normally, I don’t dive headfirst into stories about self-destructive characters, but Rachel’s pain and loneliness felt painfully authentic, especially as she tries to piece together this mystery while fighting her own demons.

I also loved how Hawkins crafted this web of perspectives between Rachel, Megan, and Anna. It’s like each of these women holds a piece of the puzzle, and the only way to see the full picture is to get inside each of their heads. The switches in perspective made the story more dynamic and upped the tension since we’re constantly getting little breadcrumbs of the truth. And speaking of truth, the way Hawkins peels back the layers of each character—making you question what’s real and what’s just a product of Rachel’s foggy memory or Megan’s secrets—is a masterclass in suspense.

Now, the plot pacing was mostly perfect for me. There were a few parts where it felt like we were circling the same track (much like Rachel’s daily train ride), but it always picked up before I lost interest. Hawkins knows just when to twist the story, dropping those shocking revelations or creeping realizations that leave you thinking, “Wait, what?” It’s the kind of suspense that’s deliciously frustrating because you feel like you’re always half a step behind, piecing things together just as Rachel does, which makes the whole experience that much more engaging.

One thing I didn’t expect was how dark the book could get. It digs deep into issues like addiction, loneliness, betrayal, and the longing for a life that feels meaningful. It felt more than just a “whodunit” thriller; it was a story about deeply flawed people trying to navigate their brokenness, and that really resonated. Hawkins doesn’t sugarcoat her characters’ flaws or make them conveniently likable, and that makes them so much more interesting to follow.

Final Thoughts

The Girl on the Train hit all the right notes for me as a thriller fan: intense suspense, deeply flawed yet relatable characters, and a plot that keeps you on edge until the very end. Hawkins knows how to keep you guessing, and I loved the slow-burn reveal of how Rachel’s reality and perception of the world are tangled up in her own trauma. The multiple perspectives add so much depth, making it feel like you’re piecing together a fractured mirror. This is one I’ll definitely recommend to anyone looking for a page-turner that dives a bit deeper than your typical thriller.

Score: 9/10

Try it if you like:

• Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn – If you loved the messy, unreliable narration and the dark exploration of trauma in The Girl on the Train, Flynn’s take on family secrets and personal demons will definitely keep you hooked.
• Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty – Though lighter in tone, Moriarty’s novel also spins a tale of suburban secrets and intersecting lives that unravel through multiple perspectives, building up to an unexpected climax.
• The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides – Like The Girl on the Train, it’s got that psychological edge with an unreliable narrator and a slow, tension-filled reveal that keeps you guessing right up to the end.