A review by neuro_chef
The Secret History by Donna Tartt

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

4.5

 As someone of oft dreams of how my life would be if I were a professor wearing tweed vests knee deep in classics in an old and stylish library, it seems almost inexorable that I would eventually pick up and read The Secret History, if only to experience a vestige of that alternate version of myself. I read it knowing nothing of the Dark Academia genre, thinking it was a story about a group of students trying to uncover some esoteric hidden truth about the ancient Greeks. I thought it would reek of elitism and pompous arrogance (It does but in a good way). I thought I would love it because I would imagine myself in it. I thought wrong.

The book distinguished itself from the very first sentence, solidifying the story as a murder mystery, but not a whodunit, but a whydunit, an infinitely more interesting take on the trope. From the opening line, we know who is killed, but we don't know who they are or why they are killed, and the rest of the story is us uncovering bit-by-bit the pieces to this puzzle.

 The main character, Richard, is conflicting. Not in how he's written but in how he makes me feel. As a character, he is fascinating; acting like the outsider to the titular group we see him join, he provides us with an "objective" look into the rest of the cast and their traits. What makes it work so well is the fact that not only is he the main character, he is also the narrator, as such, everything we see and learn is tinted through his lens, and molded by his psyche. From the very beginning, he inadvertently warns us about trusting his view on things, stating that he has a "Morbid longing for the picturesque at all times" This line stuck with me because as the scenes were being described to me, I had a little voice in the back of my head going "This isn't actually how they were, the narrator just says it like that because he cares for the picturesque." As such, I found myself in this cycle of believing then disbelieving the narrator's recounting of the story, remembering that he is every bit as subjective as all the other characters of the story, and if they were the ones telling it, the events might be very different.

What grasped me from the get-go was the absolutely beautiful writing. The prose is elegant and descriptive, sucking me into the world right away. I understand now why the Dark Academia aesthetic is so beloved. When books like this paint with such a distinctly gorgeous brush, its hard not to fall in love with the picturesque qualities of the painting. This is an important distinction I want to touch on, the author is painting, not taking a picture. We are not told every painstaking detail of the scene but rather the strokes, the colors, the feelings, and the disturbing beauty of it all. Every single frame I imagined of this book could be drawn and would look stunning, and this is a feat very few authors can achieve. I love that this fit into the theme of wanting everything to be picturesque, that the narrator wants everything to be pretty and so he writes it as such, and even though this might not be how they "really are" I don't much care.

Its ironic how, in many ways, this book acts as a critique to the tropes and aesthetic it helped establish. It presents us with these elite students in a selective course living out the life that so many people married to the Dark Academia aesthetic are envious of, then it completely breaks them down, showing us that these people are just as messed up as we are, living lives that are arguably, much worse. It shows us what kind of person such a life builds and presents somewhat of a warning to those who glamorize this life. Is this really what you want?

Every single main character is a bad person. Every single one. Yes, they have redeeming qualities and they're not all on the same level, but every single one is someone who, if they were a real person, would be looked at as abhorrent. They are so far-removed from normal society that it's genuinely infuriating at times. Which is why its so amazing that, throughout the course of the story, I find myself rooting for these people. I find myself supporting them in their downright atrocious behaviors and actions and I want them to succeed! Its so commendable that at multiple points I stopped and truly analyzed how I would act in their situation, if the reason I cheer for them now is because I see myself in their position and what I would do had I been in their shoes. This thought still haunts me and I thank god I don't have to actually answer that question any time soon.

One character in particular, 
Henry
captivated me in a way I seldom remember being so before. 
He is a bonafide sociopath! The way he was able to lead the entire group into following his orders precisely was mesmerising, and looking at how, eventually, the group started becoming privy to his "schemes", it made me realize that I was also being played all along. The reason why Henry fascinates me like no other is that he sees himself as the tragic Greek Hero. The entire time, he has been subtly manipulating himself, others, and the entire story to present himself as the hero. He makes people see him as the strong, the intelligent, the wise and the brave, the kind and the sympathetic. He makes those around him fall in love with him, he makes himself The Hero. And just before it all comes crumbling down and reality pulls him back. He kills himself. Solidifying his fate as that of every other tragic Greek hero. With death. In the end, he was the only true winner of the story.
 

I realize many people did not enjoy the ending, they thought it was anti-climactic, that it does not continue the same feeling, the same atmosphere, as the rest of the story. But that is precisely why I think its one of the best endings I've read in a while. It reminds the reader that this is not some fantastical fairy land like how the characters (and mainly the narrator) have seen it. This is real life. And in real life, the picturesque, the secret societies, the Greek tragedies the characters imagined themselves to be in, don't exist. And no matter how far they, and we, want to run away from it, time catches up, and reality always pays its dues.