An exploration of the fine line between brilliance and insanity.
There is nothing I love more in the world than a morally gray character, and nobody writes them better than Donna Tartt. From Richard Papen, the main character and questionable decision-maker, to Henry Winter, the private and self-assured Greek fanatic and unofficial-official group leader, each character is equal parts irritating and intriguing. In her debut novel, The Secret History, Donna Tartt lets the reader into an elitist Greek program of a tight-knit group of students that seem relatively normal at first glance, but something sinister lurks beneath the surface.
The book begins with the line, “The snow in the mountains was melting and Bunny had been dead for several weeks before we came to understand the gravity of our situation.” The main character, Richard Papen, leaves uninspired California to transfer to a small romantic liberal arts college in New England after seeing a single brochure. With previous experience in Ancient Greek, he shows interest in joining the exclusive Greek program, but is unsure how when he learns that the professor keeps a very tight group of only five students. After he helps the group with a translation, they give him advice on how to win their Professor Julian’s approval. Richard becomes the sixth student in the program and makes friends with the odd members that he now finds himself spending most of his time with. They go on weekend trips to family estates and spend the majority of their time together, and Richard constantly tries to fit into the rich and superior image the group has cultivated. He observes escalating odd behavior from the group and eventually discovers the secret they have been keeping, forcing him to choose between his desire for belonging and his sense of morality. The novel beautifully spirals into madness as Tartt explores the fine line between brilliance and insanity.
Before I had even reached the halfway point, this had already become my new all-time favorite novel. I was completely swept away in Tartt’s world and had to face the harsh wake-up call—I was not actually a student at Hampden College and I couldn’t discuss Greek with Henry or novels with Richard. These characters felt so tangible, as if I was the seventh member of the elusive Greek club. Tartt performs the incredible feat of making you feel connection and love for very imperfect characters. Her interest seemingly lies in the complexity of intellectuals and how higher academia does not inherently make you a better person for society. She actually may be arguing the opposite. With Henry Winter’s complete lack of empathy and a skill for manipulation, Richard’s desire for the beautiful and “picturesque at all costs,” Charles’s abuse of his sister and others, Tartt explores the imperfections of a group of seemingly perfect and intelligent college students. Their fascination with Greek and Roman values leads the group to become disconnected from reality. Their pursuit of higher education in many ways turns them primitive, as they become disconnected from their own time and begin feeling and acting more like citizens of Ancient Greece.
Every year when the leaves start to change, or the air gets so cold it starts to sting my face, I cannot help but reach for this book. With the first snowfall of the season, I long to return to Julian’s classroom with the kettle on, discussing different topics with the bizarre group. The Secret History doesn’t seem to be a comforting book because the topic is so very heavy, and yet, it is one I gravitate toward many times a year. If you share my fascination with extremely flawed characters that spiral into madness, you will enjoy this book.
—Review by Jordan Bills
