Donna Tartt's The Goldfinch and The Secret History: the literary world's well-deserved Huge Crush
The "It" Girl
My latest fan mail would read as follows:
Dear Donna Tartt,
You write a staggering work of fiction once every ten years. Your sharp suit perfectly matches your sharp bob, and I hope you always accessorize with that pencil. Don't listen to the bitter literary critics whose only chance at being in Vanity Fair is taking the unpopular view of panning you. They're just jealous, and frankly, some of the pretentiousness in your books (see: all the Greek/classicism rambling in The Secret History) should have been enough to satisfy them. You tell a @#$(*& good story, and all the references to The Goldfinch as "this generation's David Copperfield" strike me as true. Except, I stopped a hundred pages short of finishing David Copperfield, and I could never have done that with your beautiful book.
Love,
Em
P.S. Please write faster next time.
P.P.S. Knowing that you and Ann Patchett are friends is almost too much. It cruelly fuels my fantasy that someday I could have a glass of wine with the two of you.
The Goldfinch: my favorite of the two
Background
This novel recently won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction and is seemingly everywhere - I swear the ads are (nearly) as pervasive as for a blockbuster film. My expectations were high and I did my best to avoid reading anything about the book before I finished it - which meant that I missed seeing the titular painting on special Limited Time Only display at The Frick, 10 blocks from my apartment, by just one day. (Good thing, I guess - the lines of book clubbers trying to see The Goldfinch and Girl with the Pearl Earring were insane!)
The book follows Theo, a troublemaking 12-year-old who lives alone with his mother in New York City, his alcoholic father having recently abandoned the burden of his family. It is immediately a page-turner, as Theo recounts in striking detail the last day of his mother's life. The extremely close pair visit the Metropolitan Museum before a special school meeting regarding Theo's mischief, and a terrorist bombing changes the course of his life.
What makes it so awesome
One of the most memorable traits of the book is Tartt's ability to deftly tell the story from Theo's 12-year-old perspective, without being too heavy-handed with obvious manipulation. The Met sequence, post-explosion, is dreamlike, reflecting Theo's injury and trauma, and in this haze, Theo believes a dying old man in the rubble has given him a small Dutch 17th century painting of a bird. Everything that happens in the immediate aftermath smacks of Theo's shock, grief, and piecemeal information he is given due to the protectiveness of the adults in his changed world.
Another aspect I loved was that Tartt wasn't afraid to make her narrator, otherwise very sympathetic because of everything that had happened to him, into a huge jerk. It just feels true that Theo, growing up among relative strangers after such a horrific loss, would be bitter, angry, drug addicted, selfish and lonely, a self-absorbed kid who grows into a self-absorbed adult.
As a prime example, take Welty, an antique restorer who provides the only real stability, parenting, financial support, sense of purpose, and friendship in Theo's life. He is a stranger who takes Theo in, ultimately raises him, teaches him a trade, and seems like the most generous and kind-hearted character ever (think furniture-maker Aidan, from "Sex and the City", but as an older, kindly uncle). I know he isn't real, but I still want to give him a hug. Still, Theo jeopardizes his business by committing fraud on Welty's customers, uses Welty to get to Welty's niece (Theo's unrequited love interest, Pippa,) takes innumerable banned substances in Welty's home, and speculates as to Welty's sexuality. See? Don't you kinda hate this guy?
I actually felt guilty being upset with the way Theo treated those who were kind to him, after what he'd been through. How interesting to bring such dislike and such guilt out of a reader. I have to recognize and respect that Tartt's narrative choices here were gutsy and added to a real uniqueness and realism in the book.
Whether you find him likable and/or pitiable or not, Theo's adventures are fascinating. He is taken in by a wealthy family of characters, socialites and sailing buffs, in a Park Avenue town home. He moves to Vegas with his nauseatingly horrible father and his spacey new girlfriend, Xandra, another two memorable characters you'll love to hate, from whom poor Theo gains his painkiller addiction and many of his more abominable characteristics. He lives a life of crime, at times as a sidekick to his dark and hilarious friend Boris, and at times on his own. Is it always realistic? Maybe not, but it is a really, really great story.
The Bird is the Word!
At the center of it all, there is Theo's quest to keep and protect "his" painting. Some critics have interpreted this as Theo's attempt to connect to his mother's memory, but I don't agree. Theo's life has been shattered by random tragedy. He is a boy becoming a man who wants to assert some kind of control over what is otherwise an uncontrollable universe. He wants to believe his life has real meaning, and how better to do that than to cast yourself as Grand Protector of a lasting and powerful art work?
One of the most memorable traits of the book is Tartt's ability to deftly tell the story from Theo's 12-year-old perspective, without being too heavy-handed with obvious manipulation. The Met sequence, post-explosion, is dreamlike, reflecting Theo's injury and trauma, and in this haze, Theo believes a dying old man in the rubble has given him a small Dutch 17th century painting of a bird. Everything that happens in the immediate aftermath smacks of Theo's shock, grief, and piecemeal information he is given due to the protectiveness of the adults in his changed world.
Another aspect I loved was that Tartt wasn't afraid to make her narrator, otherwise very sympathetic because of everything that had happened to him, into a huge jerk. It just feels true that Theo, growing up among relative strangers after such a horrific loss, would be bitter, angry, drug addicted, selfish and lonely, a self-absorbed kid who grows into a self-absorbed adult.
As a prime example, take Welty, an antique restorer who provides the only real stability, parenting, financial support, sense of purpose, and friendship in Theo's life. He is a stranger who takes Theo in, ultimately raises him, teaches him a trade, and seems like the most generous and kind-hearted character ever (think furniture-maker Aidan, from "Sex and the City", but as an older, kindly uncle). I know he isn't real, but I still want to give him a hug. Still, Theo jeopardizes his business by committing fraud on Welty's customers, uses Welty to get to Welty's niece (Theo's unrequited love interest, Pippa,) takes innumerable banned substances in Welty's home, and speculates as to Welty's sexuality. See? Don't you kinda hate this guy?
I actually felt guilty being upset with the way Theo treated those who were kind to him, after what he'd been through. How interesting to bring such dislike and such guilt out of a reader. I have to recognize and respect that Tartt's narrative choices here were gutsy and added to a real uniqueness and realism in the book.
Whether you find him likable and/or pitiable or not, Theo's adventures are fascinating. He is taken in by a wealthy family of characters, socialites and sailing buffs, in a Park Avenue town home. He moves to Vegas with his nauseatingly horrible father and his spacey new girlfriend, Xandra, another two memorable characters you'll love to hate, from whom poor Theo gains his painkiller addiction and many of his more abominable characteristics. He lives a life of crime, at times as a sidekick to his dark and hilarious friend Boris, and at times on his own. Is it always realistic? Maybe not, but it is a really, really great story.
The Bird is the Word!
At the center of it all, there is Theo's quest to keep and protect "his" painting. Some critics have interpreted this as Theo's attempt to connect to his mother's memory, but I don't agree. Theo's life has been shattered by random tragedy. He is a boy becoming a man who wants to assert some kind of control over what is otherwise an uncontrollable universe. He wants to believe his life has real meaning, and how better to do that than to cast yourself as Grand Protector of a lasting and powerful art work?
Summing it up
All the hype and debates over literariness aside - I enjoyed The Goldfinch so much, more than many books I've read recently. Whether it has lasting power culturally or not, I read it six months ago and have clear and emotional recall of many parts of this novel - it will definitely have lasting power with me.
All the hype and debates over literariness aside - I enjoyed The Goldfinch so much, more than many books I've read recently. Whether it has lasting power culturally or not, I read it six months ago and have clear and emotional recall of many parts of this novel - it will definitely have lasting power with me.
The Secret History: Tartt's 1992 debut
Background
I loved The Goldfinch so much that I had to read Tartt's probably second most-acclaimed book, her debut novel that launched her new literary legend status. When she dated Bret Easton Ellis in college, she shared some passages of what would become this book, and he was apparently adamant about getting it in front of his agent.
I didn't like The Secret History quite as much as The Goldfinch, but I still think it's a terrific story and an impressive read, particularly given that she wrote it when she was so young.
(In terms of college genius first novels, I still prefer Zadie Smith's White Teeth, but then again, Zadie Smith hasn't yet written her Goldfinch, in my opinion. Give her 20 years, I guess.)
In the opening chapter, you learn that the narrator and his group of college friends have murdered a member of their clique. Gone is the more traditional narrative structure, a chronological buildup to a shocking twist and then a conclusion. Here, first comes the twist, and still, somehow, everything that follows still smacks of mystery. What caused this horrible act? Will they be caught? What are the consequences and aftermath? What will happen to this group of "friends"? This is the drama that drives the story.
Comparing the two, "Secret History" falls short
Like The Goldfinch, it's a page-turning story, vividly delving into the characters' minds and their surroundings (in this case, a very cold, haunting, and disturbing Vermont campus.) You've got an even more detestable narrator named Richard Papen who, without the benefit of a sympathetic sad backstory, is probably the hugest jerk whose brain I've been forced into. There's an unattainable, ethereal crush - Richard's Camilla is Theo's Pippa, but with more blood in her hair. There are acts of violence, and bad guys who you somehow are manipulated into rooting for. There is plenty of substance abuse for all.
There were parts, though, that I didn't love nearly as much as The Goldfinch. Tartt starts off with a whole section on Richard's Greek classicism training and snobbiness that established his academic know-it-all obnoxiousness, but was also so off-putting and dull that I nearly put the book down.
The other large problem with the book was the real lack of redemption or likeability of any of the characters. Even Bunny, the murder victim and moral center of the book, is someone you'd never want to spend an afternoon with. The group of friends that Richard so desperately wants to be a part of is so abhorrent that I hoped with every page that they'd all be arrested. Julian, the classics teacher they all adore, is a spineless, arrogant twit. By contrast, I do think I would want to spend time with Theo and company (though in the case of his father, it would just be to deliver a couple of sucker punches.)
Still worth a read!
It's unfair to pit the two against one another when I liked The Goldfinch so much, I suppose. Don't get me wrong - Secret History is still very much worth the time, especially if you like a good murder mystery. Tartt weaves an excellent, well-paced, different, and enjoyable narrative. I have yet to read her second book, but I can definitely say that she is only getting better.
I loved The Goldfinch so much that I had to read Tartt's probably second most-acclaimed book, her debut novel that launched her new literary legend status. When she dated Bret Easton Ellis in college, she shared some passages of what would become this book, and he was apparently adamant about getting it in front of his agent.
I didn't like The Secret History quite as much as The Goldfinch, but I still think it's a terrific story and an impressive read, particularly given that she wrote it when she was so young.
(In terms of college genius first novels, I still prefer Zadie Smith's White Teeth, but then again, Zadie Smith hasn't yet written her Goldfinch, in my opinion. Give her 20 years, I guess.)
In the opening chapter, you learn that the narrator and his group of college friends have murdered a member of their clique. Gone is the more traditional narrative structure, a chronological buildup to a shocking twist and then a conclusion. Here, first comes the twist, and still, somehow, everything that follows still smacks of mystery. What caused this horrible act? Will they be caught? What are the consequences and aftermath? What will happen to this group of "friends"? This is the drama that drives the story.
Comparing the two, "Secret History" falls short
Like The Goldfinch, it's a page-turning story, vividly delving into the characters' minds and their surroundings (in this case, a very cold, haunting, and disturbing Vermont campus.) You've got an even more detestable narrator named Richard Papen who, without the benefit of a sympathetic sad backstory, is probably the hugest jerk whose brain I've been forced into. There's an unattainable, ethereal crush - Richard's Camilla is Theo's Pippa, but with more blood in her hair. There are acts of violence, and bad guys who you somehow are manipulated into rooting for. There is plenty of substance abuse for all.
There were parts, though, that I didn't love nearly as much as The Goldfinch. Tartt starts off with a whole section on Richard's Greek classicism training and snobbiness that established his academic know-it-all obnoxiousness, but was also so off-putting and dull that I nearly put the book down.
The other large problem with the book was the real lack of redemption or likeability of any of the characters. Even Bunny, the murder victim and moral center of the book, is someone you'd never want to spend an afternoon with. The group of friends that Richard so desperately wants to be a part of is so abhorrent that I hoped with every page that they'd all be arrested. Julian, the classics teacher they all adore, is a spineless, arrogant twit. By contrast, I do think I would want to spend time with Theo and company (though in the case of his father, it would just be to deliver a couple of sucker punches.)
Still worth a read!
It's unfair to pit the two against one another when I liked The Goldfinch so much, I suppose. Don't get me wrong - Secret History is still very much worth the time, especially if you like a good murder mystery. Tartt weaves an excellent, well-paced, different, and enjoyable narrative. I have yet to read her second book, but I can definitely say that she is only getting better.
