Oh, That Donna!!!!!!!!!!! What A Tartt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                              I can really not recall, girls, why I ordered "The Secret History," from Book Of The Month Club, when I belonged to it, back in the early 90's, when this novel first came out.  As some of you may know, from 1992, when first published, it established its author, Donna Tartt, (whose debut effort this was) as the Literary Darling Of The Day. I don't know if it was that, or something I read in the catalog's blurb about the book, but when I got the austere looking volume, with its Greek statue and transparent book jacket covering--innovative for its time--I was immediately intrigued.

                                               As soon as I began my initial reading, I instantly knew it was "one of those"--something I would keep, cherish and reread. I am not alone in saying it is one of my favorite books, and when the years went by, and no further outpouring from Donna Tartt came forth, I resigned that she would fall into that select pantheon of one-book authors--like Margaret Mitchell and Harper Lee--who produced a single work, but a singular one for the ages.  That record was marred by Tartt's second novel, "The Little Friend," the most anticipated book of its year.  Though I read it (twice, in fact!) it cannot hold a candle to her earlier book, and I am firmly convinced that whatever she goes on to write, as well as it may be,  will never surpass her first, her Magnum Opus.  And on the heels of my reading comes news that Donna Tartt, in October, will have a third novel published, entitled "The Goldfinch."  Perhaps the most anticipated work of fiction for THIS year, almost eleven years to the day since "The Little Friend."

                                                Earlier this year, I read "The Likeness," by Tana French.  One reviewer compared it to both Donna Tartt and Wilkie Collins.  The Tartt connection I instantly grasped; the Collins is there, but debatable.  Nevertheless, reading this book inspired me to read not only Tartt's first, signature work, again, but also "Villette" by Charlotte Bronte, which I have just begun.  In "The Likeness," one of the student characters is doing her thesis on Charlotte Bronte, so there are often references to both "Villette" and "Jane Eyre."  The last I have read more than I can say (but not equal to the nine times I have read "Wuthering Heights"), but I paused, and thought, maybe it is time for a rereading of "Villette."

                                                  But right now, darlings, I am discussing "The Secret History."  I believe this was my third reading of it, and, if Time is good to me, sooner or later, there will be a fourth.  Now, having become so familiar with such a work, I must discuss it intimately, so I will caution my girls out there who have NOT yet read it to stop reading this blog post NOW, as I may be referencing details within that would, for the unread, destroy the element of surprise.

                                                     "The Secret History" is the confessional reminiscence of Richard Papen, now 28, looking back at the time he was a student at Vermont's Hampden College, (a stand-in for Vermont's real life Bennington, which Tartt attended, graduated from, and where she began writing this novel, which took her eight years to complete!!!!!) and the experiences he fell into there, leading to his dissolution.

                                                         The selection of Richard as a narrator is an interesting one. He is something of an outsider; he comes from Plano, California, a working class community, he longs to escape from.  He also longs to escape from his working class origins.  I can relate to this, wanting, first to escape from Irving School, when I was in Highland Park, because it was known as the school where the "children of the blue collar workers" went, hence, not as good, academically.  And, of course, that, and not being Jewish, kept me from social acceptance by the Roberta Group, and exclusion from things like Algebra in the eighth grade, membership in the National Honor Society in high school, as well as taking Advanced Placement English.  Let me say, before I get too autobiographical, that I realize part of this was my fault; had I the capacity back then, as I do now, to speak on my own behalf, I most certainly would have, and perhaps that chapter of my life would have been different.  Maybe not.   So there is a point to where I can relate to  Richard.

                                                            Once settled at Hampden, he encounters what today would almost be called a Goth clique--a group quintet of five students, isolated from the rest of the populace by their being enrolled in some sort of Advanced Classics program, where they study with only one instructor, Julian Morrow.  Richard immediately wants "in"--again, I can relate--and he does gain entry, though, in retrospect, it turns out it may have been better had he not been accepted.

                                                               The five students are ringleader Henry Winter, twin siblings Charles and Camilla Macaulay, Francis Abernathy, and Edmund "Bunny Corcoran.  It is this last who is both important and unlikely.  Bunny's family, the Corcorans, are like "The Pruitts Of Southampton"--they act wealthy, but are flat broke, living way beyond their means, being in hock up to their ears.  And they don't care about it. And they have imparted this attitude not only on Bunny, but their other children. Added to which, Bunny is crude, crass, bigoted,  and not the intellectual sort for an Advanced Placement group; how he made it in is never satisfactorily explained--one of the few criticisms I have with Tartt.  But Bunny is important for other reasons (now if you have not stopped reading, yet, then REALLY do so now!!!!!)--he is the classmate murdered by his peers, which is revealed in the opening of the novel.  This novel functions the way that "REDRUM" does on Investigation Discovery today; the novel is not just about the fact that Bunny was murdered, but the set of circumstances leading up to it, and the consequences in its wake.

                                                                 All of which Miss Tartt accomplishes brilliantly, especially when you consider that this group of people--every one of them--are fundamentally despicable. Which made it understandable, on one level, upon this, my third reading, that Bunny would be the victim; though any one of them deserve it, too.  And it is this last idea that makes Tartt's comeuppances--of a sort--both fascinating and dissatisfying.  For none of the perpetrators are charged with the murder, nor do they do any jail time. Instead, Miss Tartt punishes them in other ways, by Life. Henry, out of a combination of selfishness, cowardice, and deluded loyalty, commits suicide; Charles Macaulay becomes a hopeless alcoholic, in and out of rehab, and runs off to the Southwest with another floozy/addict, for a relationship that is sure to be masochistic at best; twin sister Camilla is left an isolated spinster, taking care of their aging grandmother; Francis Abernathy, fundamentally gay, is forced by his grandfather to marry a woman, Priscilla, in order to inherit the sizable fortune Gramps  otherwise will not leave him. I felt more sorry for Priscilla than Francis; she seems genuinely loving, and the reader knows what she is in for--heartache, and possibly divorce, once Grandpa dies, and Francis inherits. Of course, that should leave Priscilla with half, so maybe she will be OK.
And Richard, lastly, becomes a disillusioned academic, happy with no one and nothing.

                                                                  Interesting, but I would rather have seen Justice meted out more deservedly.  But there is no denying the novel's brilliance; it starts with a murder, ends with a supernatural encounter, with references to Classical Mythology, Literature, and the Supernatural.  Miss Tartt threw it all in one pot, and the mixture is still intoxicating. Trouble is, she wrote a novel that is almost too good, one she can never top. But she can try, and those, like me who admire her, will no doubt read "The Goldfinch."

                                                                   But loyalty will remain always to "The Secret History."