Discovering Something New: Re-reading Donna Tartt's The Secret History

Second book of the summer reading challenge has been completed! To kick off my reread selections, we're starting with The Secret History.

The Secret History is Donna Tartt's first novel - you may recognize her from her most recent work, The Goldfinch, which won the Pulitzer Prize. Published in 1992, the novel is unique for its why-dun-it set up - a reversal of the mystery tradition.

The Secret History tells the story of a group of Classics students at a remote Vermont college: Henry Winter, the dark brooding intellectual, completely immersed in studying Greek; Bunny Corcoran, the all-American student, former football captain turned Classics student; Francis Abernathy, the delicate aesthete, a severe hypochondriac with a fondness for nice clothes and cigarettes; and Charles and Camilla Macaulay, identical twins whose personalities are anything but identical. Narrated by Richard Papen, a Californian attempting to reinvent himself, the novel is divided into two parts: before the murder, and after the murder. Along the way, the group is heavily influenced by their professor, Julian, who encourages them to engage completely with the ancient lifestyle.

The first time I read this book, I was a rising junior in undergrad. A friend of mine (who is a Classics major herself) recommended it to me, and told me that I absolutely had to read it. I couldn't put it down. I vaguely recall reading it at night, staying up to incredibly odd hours because the chapter hadn't ended, and not wanting to end my lunch breaks at work because I had just gotten to a good part. I think I read it in a day and a half, and didn't ever actually put it down (except for when I had to). There's something about this book that draws me in every time - the concept of beauty as terror, the lyrical form of the prose, the lives of the students... This time, I was drawn to Richard's descriptions of people and places, especially when talking about himself. Somehow, Richard manages to make himself an accessory, but never completely complicit in anything. He's so uncomfortable with himself and his situation that he would rather lie about his life than face the truth.

I also notice, every time I read this, that there are a ton of parallels to Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. Whether these were intentional or are just me reading way too much into this, I don't know.

I love this book, and I recommend it to basically anyone who asks for a book rec. It's on my list of favorite books of all time, and re-reading it has only cemented its place. And if you like this one, you should check out M.L. Rio's novel If We Were Villains; it's a similar premise, but with Shakespearean actors instead of classicists (and I also love it to death).

Overall rating: 11/10 stars