Lauren RabainoAn elite college in a remote area of rural Vermont. A small group of affluent, improbably intellectually gifted Classics students. A charismatic, quite possibly amoral leader of the group. A forceful professor and advisor to the group curious to see just how much he can exert his influence over it. A murder. Then another murder. And, at the center of it all, a young transplant student from a modest background, both enthralled by the group’s acceptance of him and frightened by the potential emotional and psychological cost of its activities.
Such are the elements of Donna Tartt’s debut novel, “The Secret History,” in which the narrator and protagonist Richard Papen recalls his long-ago days at the college and their bloody consequences.
Critic A.O. Scott cleverly (and correctly) described the novel as “a murder mystery in reverse.” Indeed, within the first few pages we’re told who was killed and by whom. The rest of the book proceeds to delve into the questions of why and how the murder happened, and its impact upon the students. But the murder – and other key, sometimes rather melodramatic plot elements – is secondary to the book’s idiosyncratic tone and resonant thematic underpinnings regarding the longing of an outsider to be on the inside of an exclusive clique. And don’t think the previous reference to “sometimes rather melodramatic plot elements” is necessarily a criticism; part of the book’s appeal lies in its skillful ability to portray its more extreme moments with an emotional honesty that makes them convincing, and therefore all the more disturbing.
At 576 pages, Tartt’s novel rambles at more than a few points. It’s also hard not to detect a certain sense of a young novelist’s eagerness to show off her literary knowledge in ways that feel . well, a little show-offy.
Still, the fire of the young artist burns brightly in the prose, which often achieves a supple and hypnotic pull, particularly in the long section in which Richard stays in a cold and lonely room over winter break while the rest of the group goes back to their considerably more comfortable homes. Although not much “happens” plot-wise during this section, Tartt writes with such vividness and lyricism it could almost stand alone as a short story. In interviews, the author has spoken of the influence poetry has had on her prose style, and these chapters, with their dreamy tone and revealing sense of detail, illustrate just how well that influence can be employed.
When “The Secret History” was published in 1992, it was a huge best-seller that garnered generally ecstatic reviews. In the sixteen years since, Tartt has written only one other novel, “The Little Friend.” Whatever the reason for this gap (and there has been plenty of speculation about it), her debut work remains a haunting and even sporadically moving exploration of a group simultaneously united and isolated by their secret history.
Quentin Dunne is a psychology graduate student and Mustang Daily book reviewer.