A review by april_anya
The Secret History by Donna Tartt

challenging dark emotional inspiring reflective tense medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? A mix
  • Strong character development? No
  • Loveable characters? It's complicated
  • Diverse cast of characters? No
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

I have so many feelings about this book that I'm not sure I could adequately put them into words.

Its original title, 'The God of Illusions', is much more apt at encapsulating what is in my mind one of the novel's greatest themes: the distortion and romanticisation of human behaviour, of human immorality. The twins' charmingly enigmatic relationship is actually abusive and self-centred; Henry's seemingly simple actions are later revealed to be heavily calculated and manipulative; and Julian, perhaps the 'god of Illusions', becomes - in Henry's mind - nothing but a hypocrite and a coward. This reality's gradual reveal gave me a distinctly melancholy feeling, added to with the fact that not one character has a neat or happy ending (or really an ending at all).


The prose itself is absolutely stunning, lyrical and rich. Witty and dynamic dialogue is interwoven with elegant (if sometimes slightly long-winded) descriptions, and (my personal favourite!) academic discussions of classical literature and civilisation. I like to underline particularly beautiful or interesting lines I come across when reading, and there isn't a single page in this book without one. There are a lot of pages.

Many people criticise 'A Secret History' for being too unnecessarily drawn out, but for the most part I didn't really think so? At some points, however, some scenes do feel a little redundant and repetitive - but each contributes at least something to either plot or character development. In addition, it is important to acknowledge the absolute lack of diversity within a cast of exclusively rich, white Classics students.. in some ways, Tartt can be seen to criticise this elitism within academia (
it does, you know, lead to murder</spoiler) but she definitely romanticises it too. 

My main criticism of the book, instead, is perhaps slightly pedantic; whilst a rich variety of scenes and interactions contribute to character development greatly (as well as posing interesting ideas in their own right), I felt some of these could have been tied up more neatly at the end. Many are introduced and never mentioned again.
What happened with Francis' panic disorder? Did Henry actually attempt to kill Charles, or was he under delusion?
In many cases these ambiguities reflected well the uncertain, unreliable narration and moral ambiguity (some things are much more impactful when the reader is left to make their own conclusions!), but in some I felt they did not.

There is so much else I could say, but I'd be here far too long. Here are a couple of my absolute favourite scenes, descriptions and dialogue within the novel:



'"It's a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? Euripides speaks of the Maenads: head thrown back, throat to the stars, "more like deer than human being." To be absolutely free! One is quite capable, of course, of working out these destructive passions in more vulgar and less efficient ways. But how glorious to release them in a single burst! To sing, to scream, to dance barefoot in the woods in the dead of night, with no more awareness of mortality than an animal! ... If we are strong enough in our souls we can rip away the veil and look that naked, terrible beauty right in the face; let God consume us, devour us, unstring our bones. Then spit us out reborn."'

'It was like a painting too vivid to be real - every pebble, every blade of grass sharply defined, the sky so blue it hurt me to look at it. Camilla was limp in Henry's arms, her head thrown back like a dead girl's, and the curve of her throat beautiful and lifeless. The hem of her dress fluttered abstractly in the breeze. Henry's trousers were spattered with drops the size of quarters, too red to be blood, as if he'd had a paintbrush slung at him. In the overwhelming stillness, between our echoless footsteps, the pulse sang thin and fast in my ears.'

'"Tell him I'm in the bath."
"He's in the bath," I said.
"He is not in the bath," said Henry. "He is standing in the room with you. I can hear him."'

'"It was the most important night of my life,' he said calmly. 'It enabled me to do what I've always wanted most."
"Which is?"
"To live without thinking."'

'Forgive me, for all the things I did but mostly for the ones that I did not.'




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