An exploration of art, power, and the world of dark academia

Warning: This review contains spoilers for the novel, The Secret History.

The power of an unreliable narrator is almost intoxicating – to exist so completely in another’s mind that we forget our own bias, our own morality. It’s fascinating to be so colored by how another sees the world that we end up agreeing and justifying actions we otherwise would find deplorable. An unreliable narrator has the power to dictate our thoughts, change our morals, even question what we know to be true. With all the power and style in the world, Donna Tartt writes one of the most believable unreliable narrations I’ve ever read. In The Secret History, we enter the mind of Richard Papen and unravel the secrets of a small liberal arts school in up-state Vermont. 

The book opens with the murder of college student Bunny Corcoran, an annoying yet endearing boy, and a key member of the central group of protagonists. The rest of the clan consists of Henry, a stoic and deeply intelligent student; Francis, a red-haired, cigarette smoking mischief-maker; twins Camilla and Charles, who appear warm, welcoming, and ethereal; and Richard, our narrator. We understand in the first few sentences that these five characters are complicit in the murder of their friend; we just don’t know why. We see the world through the gaze of Richard, a self-conscious, judgmental college student trying to escape his life of poverty in Plano, California. Richard feels unkindly towards Bunny, worships the others, and appears rather blasé and impartial about murder. In his mind, we must trek through the story trying to distinguish truth from subjective falsehoods and deciding for ourselves if Bunny deserved to die. 

The story is framed through Richard’s self-proclaimed fatal flaw: “a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.” The “picturesque” that Richard speaks of in the beginning of this novel comes to life, as the reader floats through poetic prose of classical debates, reading of romantic translations and ancient worlds, growing infatuated and consumed with this quaint college atmosphere. That is, until the plot slowly grows more sinister, first with the group accidentally murdering a local Vermont farmer, and then escalating to the murder of their friend, Bunny. Caught in the subjective and morally gray mind of Richard, it becomes almost impossible to distinguish between right and wrong as the reader grows to sympathize with Richard and his friends. The reader must also grapple with the fact that these characters committed a cardinal sin. Twice. 

I found myself constantly pushing against my own morals, falling into the complacent lull of the rolling hills of Vermont and the poetic discussions of Plato and Dante. What Donna Tartt so masterfully accomplishes in this book is the pull between beauty and terror, between art and power. To watch each character descend into destruction in their own way left me constantly wondering, until the last page, what would happen. 

What ended up happening in the final chapters sadly left much to be desired, for me at least. I think Donna Tartt does an excellent job creating a compelling story in the first half of the novel as we slowly come to understand the events surrounding Bunny’s death and what drove a group of intelligent college students to murder. The second half of the book, however, dictates the group’s slow, destructive downfall as they grapple with the consequences of their actions. I found myself constantly questioning the author’s choices as she explores incest, alcoholism, and suicide in the final chapters of the book. Each plot twist only made me more skeptical of whether or not the choice made sense for the character. The second half of the novel felt very “Hollywood,” like the ending was meant for pure shock value and perhaps someday to be immortalized on the silver screen. 

The book is at its strongest when it is contained to the central murder of Bunny Corcoran while focusing on the contradictory flaws of these characters as they try to use the ancient world to justify their present actions. 

The Secret History will test the limits of your morality and introduce you to the beautiful world of literature and classic academia. Donna Tartt is a talented and gifted writer who offers an entire epic to the reader, if they are willing to trek through the cascading academic discussions and deplorable actions of her characters. I would say, despite my issues with the ending, The Secret History is absolutely worth reading.