The Secret History

Wouldn't read it again.

I wanted to like this book more than I did. Good writing, but I did not care about any of the characters, it was too long, and the end was anti-climactic.

The Secret History is a prime example of a novel that evokes mixed emotions. On one hand, Tartt's purple prose paints an extravagant and rich picture of the world she creates. Her writing is intricate and full of sweeping descriptions with a melodramatic tone that wraps itself around the reader. However, at times, the same writing feels overly ornate and unnecessarily long, making the story's point hard to grasp.

Tartt has crafted an enticing and captivating atmosphere, drawing readers into six Classics students' exclusive and secretive world. The group's allure is undeniable, and there is a constant urge to diver deeper into their lives. None of them are likable. They are self-indulgent and exist in a world of privilege, expecting everything to fall nearly into their laps (is that the case for all Classics majors). Even Richard, the supposed "least privileged" among them, cannot escape the sense of entitlement. This makes it difficult to connect with the characters.

The author's ability to build tension impresses, hooking you right from the start. However, despite this strong foundation, the novel flops as it progresses. The pacing begins to lag, and the plot meanders, with sections feeling drawn out or unnecessary. This dragged my reading experience down and tested my patience more than once.

Despite its flaws, the novel successfully creates a distinct, dark vibe that fits well into the Dark Academia genre. The atmosphere is chilling and intellectual, though the ambition and slow-burn of the story will not be for everyone. For fans of the genre (myself included), this book still has its appeal. Just be prepared for a novel that will challenge and test your patience.

This was just beautiful. I think Donna Tartt did fabulous with making me love the characters so deeply, even bunny when he was being a prick, to despising every action they made. She managed to end the book with me loving each and every single one of them more than i did in the beginning.

This is a true “Modern Classic”. I think everyone should read this book at some point in their life. The lesson of friendship is beautifully shown in this novel. This book is a true tragedy through and through, with no character being completely happy with what they’ve done and where they’re at now.

<“I wonder if i’ll see Henry on the other side. If i do, I am looking forward to asking him why the hell he didn’t just shoot us all and get it over with”>

god i love Francis!

“Death is the mother of beauty,” said Henry.

“And what is beauty?”

“Terror.” […]

“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.”

We were all leaning forward, motionless. My mouth had fallen open; I was aware of every breath I took.

“And that, to me, is the terrible seduction of the Dionysiac ritual. Hard for us to imagine. That fire of pure being.”

“The Secret History” is amorphous. It is a deontologist’s manual by negative example. It is equal parts “Crime and Punishment” and a murder thriller; it’s no secret who did the killing, but the ‘why’ and the aftermath are the backbone of the novel. Tartt excels in linking together a series of dreamlike vignettes into a coherent whole, like a mural that, as you draw closer to it, is made up of thousands of infinitely detailed smaller images. In addition to the philosophical musings, I found Tartt’s novel simply pleasurable to read: beautiful prose, characters stumbling from reverie into reverie. The chapter in which our MC Richard

almost dies of hypothermia

is, in and of itself, stunningly subtle characterization and scene-setting.

Greek tragedy is characterized by the fatal flaw that leads to an inevitable end. This novel is a Greek tragedy. When beauty is divorced from truth, only destruction can result. As Keats says in his “Ode on a Grecian Urn,” "Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all/ Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”

Thematically, “beauty” is the most explored: the inability to divorce beauty from truth, the hollow allure of sin and the transcendental sublime to be found in the pursuit of the divine. Tartt took a gamble in her depiction, as all of the main cast are terrible, pretentious people who miss the author’s point—in a style much like Ishiguro, it’s what is between the lines that reveals our narrator Richard and his Author are operating on fundamentally different understandings of the world. Richard deals with pleasure, and shamelessly; Tartt catalogues his sins like Ezra chronicling the downfall of the great Israelite kings. In contrast, she sets up careful foils: the elitism of these northeastern preppies stands against the unglamorous but steadfast friendships of the likes of Judy Poovey (yes, that is her name); the pretensions at Ubermensch from the Elite are undone because of a local farmer and the community; the supposedly erudite classicist Julian Morrow is, despite Richard’s worship, less of a true professor than the “mundane” French teacher Laforgue whom Richard disdains.

It’s funny how her ironic depictions of a small college-town campus in Vermont, often tongue-in-cheek, make me miss my own days at school on the East Coast—funny because I was, after all, miserable for much of those four years. And yet. And yet, reading the aesthetic and loving descriptions of school days sprinkled throughout this examination of a dark psyche, I find myself reminiscing on those red brick paths and white columned Greco-Roman buildings, and the tiles spelling out “Veritas vos liberabit”. Sometimes, however, we find ourselves given the freedom we asked for, as in Jeremiah 34:17 (“Therefore this is what the Lord says: You have not obeyed me; you have not proclaimed freedom to your own people. So I now proclaim ‘freedom’ for you, declares the Lord—‘freedom’ to fall by the sword, plague and famine. I will make you abhorrent to all the kingdoms of the earth”).

That is the freedom that Richard, like Raskolnikov, learns. Unfortunately, there is no Sonia for Richard. There is only Henry, who might as well be Mephistopheles.

I didn't really care for this book. I wanted to like it, but I just couldn't. It was too long-winded and while I can acknowledge that it's well written, I rate based on my interest more than anything.

“The dead appear to us in dreams, because that’s the only way they can make us see them; what we see is only a projection, beamed from a great distance, light shining at us from a dead star.”

Brilliant. intoxicating.

no words

I'm honestly so glad I didn't give up on this book, even though it was so. fucking. slow. at times.

Remembered that I read this last year. But I apparently read it in 2019 to. I still can't get onto the bandwagon for this one. Found it tedious and not at all compelling. Where more annoyed at the characters, their action and just didn't had a good time. If it wasn't for my reading this as a buddy read with my great friend I would have dnfd it.

___

Nope this is still not the book for me. Don't see the greatness of the story. I found the people to be pretentious and annoying and the story the same and not thrilling or intriguing to read about