Carpe Diem Society

Donna Tartt is a remarkable author and undoubtedly one of the best when it comes to dark academic literature. Her writing in The Secret History is unapologetically poetical and, at the same time, literal. I don’t lie when I say, I just could Not put the book down and couldn’t wait to pick it up again. It brought back the teenage excitement I had when I used to pull all-nighters reading dark and mystery fan fictions.

Honestly, if you love literature —and a reasonable amount of Greek philosophy, this novel is for you too.

…it fails me utterly when I attempt to describe in it what I love about Greek, that language innocent of all quirks and cranks; a language obsessed with action, and with the joy of seeing action multiply from action, action marching relentlessly ahead and with yet more action filing in from either side to fall into neat step at the rear, in a long straight rank cause and effect toward what will be inevitable, the only possible end.

One thing to note, for sure, Greek philosophy dominates this novel and is the driving force for, probably, most of the characters. Richard Papen — main character — falls entirely in love with the language. Their Greek mentor, Julian, ultimately becomes his figurative godfather and his new friend, Henry, becomes his idol.

One of the first things we learn about Richard is how demoralised he feels compared to his colleagues. Coming from California to New England, Hampton College. Trying to fit in with the more privileged students. His not unfathomable obsession with Henry and Julian—their rationale and abstract yet introspective way of thought. Everything about them, to him, is absolute divine. And there is nothing that would cease his respect for the former. Even murder.

Perhaps the most shocking and unexpectedly exciting factor that driven me to pick up this book: the murderer’s identity is revealed at the very start of the book. “one of the reasons I wanted to do that,” Donna Tartt says, “it was partly because I’d been studying Greek and, you know, there’s tremendous suspense in The Iliad and, you know, everything that’s going to happen. — this was just a very interesting question to me how do you create suspense from knowing what we already know? I love Alfred Hitchcock and I read something Alfred Hitchcock said. He said, suspense doesn’t come from having a bomb thrown from nowhere at the hero. Suspense comes from having, you know, two people sitting, talking at a table and there’s a bomb ticking underneath the table. The audience sees it but the characters don’t. In a funny way, that was what made me want to write this sort of novel.”

Right from the first page, we learn how a group of friends were responsible of the murder. Then we get introduced to the main character and his struggle to get accepted into a college that is as far as he could get from his place. I had a sense of relatability here. At his age, I desperately wanted to leave home and study somewhere over the seas. Cambridge was the dream university. I mean, for any teen potterhead that is the dream destination. But I wanted to remain there, study literature and breathe the air of past intellectual leaders and history. That being said, there is the fear of fitting in and Richard realistically experiences it through-out the book. The Greek students do seem intimidating to approach at first, but once Richard, with difficulty, enrolls into the class he’s welcomed and treated as part of the clique. Hold on to the last point for a later one.

Although the book was rich with prose and figurative language, it was not at all difficult to read. In the contrary, it was a bliss. With that being said, it might be a little dense and novel for a nonfiction or classic literature reader. The beauty of The Secret History would not be grasped by someone who doesn’t understand how figures of speech work, for example. — I usually enjoy reading poetry at the very start of my day but passing the due date of me having to finish reading the book and, kind of, rushing it with no time for my poetry reading I had my morning poetry and prose from this book. In a way, it is odd but pleasantly so, because, you’re reading a novel, at the same time, you’re analyzing it the way you would do with prose.

I’ve aspired to write in this way — breaking into complete prose in the middle of fiction — but definitely didn’t know it was correct. Donna Tartt should be my indication to be wildly unapologetic.

Henry had left such a visceral impression on both me and Richard. There is just so much about him. Let’s start with this: he acts as the leader of the group. It’s unspoken but so naturally happens and everyone agrees. We will return to that too. Henry is incredibly clever — probably why he’s very much respected by not only his friends, but Julian too. — which makes him the brain that controls the neurons of the group. Safe to say, the most intellectual out of the bunch and means business. What gave me an air of familiarity and belonging; he is wildly stoic. And remains so despite all odds. Why is that familiar? I had flashbacks of how I was back in college despite my unrecognized anxiety. It was when I learned about stoicism and recognized it as the antidote for all my problems. Still do so. Henry’s character and actions were astonishingly palpable for me. And to Richard.

He really does idolize Henry. To the point of limerence. Now, I’m not entirely sure it is to the point of limerence but it’s strikingly close. Could be that his thought and ideology has this much of an appeal to Greek philosophy readers. We see Richard putting him in a such high of a pedestal — and not only him. The group of friends does as well. — that he subconsciously does whatever he asks him to do. Like a puppet, dancing willingly and unaware of the strings tied to it. I found myself not questioning it too, for quite awhile, completely charmed by him. Neither does Richard. It’s only when someone points it out does the realization hit.

There is someone, however, not entirely affected by Henry’s leadership. And that is: Bunny.

He sailed through the world guided only by the dim lights of impulse and habit, confident that his course would throw up no obstacles so large that they could not be plowed over with sheer force of momentum.

This is Richard’s thought of Bunny, the murdered friend. Bunny is naive… he is that bewilderingly exhausting friend that you somehow want to get rid of in a not so discreet and kind way. But helplessly, and in the very next second, you retreat those murderous thoughts and feel just a tad bit bad for him. For a moment there he appears completely innocent, vacant of thought and wouldn’t hurt a fly. Somehow, even after everything, I still feel bad for his death and wonder if he deserved it to have happened to him.

Let’s return to the idea how Richard was quickly welcomed to the group. This is just one of my theories but it felt as if they were ready to replace Bunny with him. Not at all indicating that it has to do or lead to the murder, far from that, it felt unconscious yet silently agreed with by the group. Perhaps, they found Richard interesting and new at first and eventually decided he makes a decent friend. Or, that he makes a good distraction. He’s a symbol of innocence of all going on within the circle. Something fresh, the new beginning they needed.

Despite the cold and stoic appearance Henry manifests, he is sweet and caring towards Richard and his friends. Francis, also, slowly opens up to Richard and treats him as a long time friend. At first, Francis seemed rather mysterious in the writing. We don’t get to know much about him and his personality. The way he was written was vague. We get scattered glimpse of his character throughout the book. It’s as if only later it’s realised how empty his personality appearance is that we get a full introspection of it at nearly the second to the last part of the book. It is very subtle, but I don’t mind it. Because we’re reading it through Richard’s perspective and maybe, maybe Richard did not know Francis intimately right of the bat and wasn’t that curious or intrigued by him as much as he did with Henry.

The twins, Charles and Camilla Macaulay, warmly welcomed Richard. They even invited him to their shared apartment. It is interesting. We also don’t get to know much about them in the first to the second half of the book. Again, maybe Richard didn’t care to investigate them or he just doesn’t have the best attention despite him literally being interested in Camilla.

This is kind of odd and I’m not exactly sure about it. But I had the impression that Richard spends too much time in his own head and not that observant of others, except the ones that he’d love to earn their respect. So much so it renders some of the characters vague and shallow like Camilla and Francis. On the other hand, it makes me wonder if they wanted to hide and remain a mystery from Richard’s point of view. A sort of a personality complex. Despite them actually treating him like one of the group who’s been there for years.

The book is a nearly 600 pages — feels like 300 pages if you ask me — of one of the finest modern fiction I’ve read. It is still astonishing to me that it is Donna Tartt’s debut novel. Wonderful writing, attention-grabbing chapters, and the most interesting characters. I would recommend it to mystery and crime enjoyers. But especially, to dark academia lovers.