2024-09-07
One of my favourite things that Donna Tartt does with The Secret History is how she presents Richard Papen. She makes it very clear at the beginning that Richard is an unreliable narrator. Initially, he boasts to the reader about his ability to lie. Almost immediately on the next page, another character picks up on his lying. This happens several times, where Richard says something about himself but only to be contradicted by someone else soon after. It's great that Tartt does this but this also introduces something crucial about The Secret History: it's actually so funny. This act reveals that the books contents shouldn't be taken too seriously, and to ignore the dressed up appearances of the characters and the setting. It takes the picturesque academia aesthetic and pushes it to an extreme conclusion: murder, suicide, sexual taboos.
It's funny to think about it now, in hindsight, after sitting down to think about the book. However, in the middle of reading The Secret History, I completely fell for the aesthetic. As I read it, I, too, longed to part of the exclusive Greek club. I wanted to sit in the odd lectures that probably wouldn't make it into any curriculum today. I wished I could follow the group on their weekend excursions, just doing rich people things. I pictured myself staying up late in an old Victorian library, studying ancient texts in Greek. These college kids were so serious and so believed in what they were doing. I actually feel some resistance towards condemning them or towards any criticism towards this point, because, for a moment, I believed too.
But they are not to believed. Especially not Henry. That light-bulb moment Richard had when he realizes that the "always in-control" Henry was actually not in control made me stop. I re-read that passage several times. A terrifying feeling, to put all your trust in someone and then see that they're actually not reliable at all. But I think Henry is reliable, at the end of it all. He has an odd way of going about it, and isn't right every step of the way, but he gets the job done. It's ultimately his sacrifice that puts an end to Charles's rampage. His own extreme conclusion is suicide.
Henry is an interesting character. Throughout the 500 or so pages, I constantly moved between being disgusted by, in love with, terrified of, annoyed with, and amused by Henry. I rarely encounter characters that make me feel so many things about them. The weird thing is that Henry is, surprisingly, fairly one-note. Always serious. Always calculating. Always deliberate. Always moving towards a goal that he has in mind. He rarely cracks a smile. Rarely shows warmth, and even when he does, you can't help but wonder if he planned it that way. He is so fascinating and honestly is the reason why I love the book so much.
All this said, I don't blame those who fall for the picturesque. Ultimately, it's satire all dressed up in a pretty package. But it's a fun and riveting book and I already want to read it again.