The Secret History
Donna Tartt knows what the f*ck she is doing. First of all, she lives in Charlottesville, and Charlottesville is a dream. She’s an incredibly private woman who does very little press because she wants her books to speak for themselves (Ok, now I’m turned on?). She takes ten years to write her books and the end results are meticulously detailed masterpieces.
I’ve previously reviewed The Goldfinch, which she published in 2013, in all her 10-year hiatus glory. I really love The Goldfinch; I think about it a lot and it’s on my top-picks list. Every single person I talked to who has also read and raved about The Goldfinch immediately told me ~omg The Secret History is even better, you HAVE to read it~. The Secret History is Tartt’s first novel, published in 1992.
I gotta say-- I disagree. Maybe there’s something to be said about the first time being special because my initial experience with Tartt simply can’t be topped. I’ll give The Secret History the five flames it deserves in its own right, but if I have to recommend one over the other, I’m going Goldfinch. The Goldfinch has more action--there’s a lot going down plot-wise, but she doesn’t sacrifice character development, which is why it’s a zillion pages long. The Secret History moves at a slower pace and throws fewer curve-balls. In fact, Tartt reveals one of the more chilling, surprising plot points in the very first sentence: somebody is going to die. Doing so is an interesting choice because, armed with the knowledge of his impending doom, I see the character through an entirely different lens from the get-go. Still, part of me wishes I had gotten that thrilling moment in real-time of is this really happening to this character right now? Is he actually going to die?!?
Tartt’s stories are so all-consuming because you walk alongside the characters every step of the way. You see them in mundane situations; you learn about their preferences and tics. You watch as they pour their cereal. The Secret History toes a unique line between detail and mystery. I spent over 500 pages with them, but even the narrator (like its author) remains shrouded in some mystique. I could not relate to any character, yet I was enamored by them. This tug of simultaneously knowing and not-knowing lends the novel a thriller vibe. There’s death without a whodunnit, so she finds mystery by other means.
Between this and The Goldfinch, I’ve at least learned that Tartt loves narrating from the perspective of an alcoholic boy with a messy family and a life plagued by tragedy. She must have been an alcoholic boy with a messy family and a life plagued by tragedy in her past life because she nails the voice. When I think about my favorite female authors of all time, both Donna Tartt and Nora Ephron come to mind, which is odd considering Tartt is so private and Ephron wrote a book blasting her ex-husband and complaining about her neck fat. I think they might be my literature yin and yang. Do yourself a favor and read one or both of Tartt’s books because her stories set the bar for what it means to be totally captivated by literature. The Secret History receives 5 out of 5 flames.
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