One Great Book: The Secret History

You've waited long enough #50

Okay, my little radishes, for this fiftieth newsletter, it’s time to talk about The Secret History.

I imagine one of two reactions just happened:

• (eye roll, sigh) “Yes, Kerry, welcome to 1995, of course I’ve read The Secret History, what next, urgent news about the horseless carriage?”

• (curious head tilt) “No, I never read it. What’s the deal?”

For my first groupers, deep apologies. There are always more suggestions in the archive! But for you, my second groupers, let’s discuss.

Never have I been more unable to conjure a sufficient power summary, but it’s kind of like this: An unlikely collection of clever Classics students at a New England college develop their own ethos and way of living, pushing the boundaries of normal contemporary living and morals, and then a violent act occurs that changes everything.

This is a book that I have read multiple times and while it’s not perfect (we’ll get to that), it’s indelible and it’s worth reading. Here’s why:

It’s a gripping mystery with deep substance.

Most criticisms I’ve heard of The Secret History come from people who compare it unfavorably to the literary canon (“It’s no Gatsby”). But to me, at its core, it’s a highbrow Gothic mystery and I think should be enjoyed as such. You know who died from the very first line, but the who/what/why unfolds throughout the book in a creepy, suspenseful way. It’s also terrifically cerebral, both in its plotting and references to the Classics and in the themes of nature, and morality, and life and death and art. No brain cells lost in reading this! The Maidens WISHES it could be a fraction of The Secret History.

It’s a masterclass in unreliable, unlikeable narrators.

This novel is Gatsby-esque, maybe, in that most of the characters are not particularly likable, and they’re all flawed, both in character and in in complicity. As the book unfolds, even our main narrator - an outsider in the clannish group - reveals himself to be biased and not always forthcoming. It’s made even more interesting, I think, because the characters are mostly actual young adults still figuring out who they are, thus are unknowable to themselves. Plus, the occasional glimpses we get from others’ contemporary eyes about these weirdos are always witty and revealing. To me, all of this serves the plot of the mystery and the chilling, dangerous feeling of the book.

It’s a perfect meditation on the surreal, unreal experience of a certain type of young adulthood.

If you’re reading it as a post-college-age adult, the characters’ years in all-consuming study and friendship and debauchery and self-indulgence and supreme possibility and frightening idealism are powerfully nostalgic as well as obviously fragile and foolish. As a reader, you recoil from the intoxicating danger of it but also lean in, just a little, to try to re-capture a moment of it.

I was recently remembering the Shakespeare theater troupe from college who used to run around the campus at night, climbing trees and shouting dialogue in a Bacchanalian haze. (I knoooowwwww.) And while even then I thought it was silly (sorry if any of you reading this were in PSC, I love you) and of course The Secret History takes this impulse to a dramatic storytelling extreme, there’s no denying the seductive appeal of those brief and heady liminal moments between childhood and adult responsibility, in a classroom and in a campus, if one is lucky enough to ever have that.

And it’s like a fever dream to read.

It’s been maybe ten years since I last read this, and what stays with me most is the feeling of the book - an enthralling, immersive, fully realized but otherworldly quality. It’s eerie, it’s page-turny, it’s weird, it’s forceful, it’s cold, it’s well-paced. All down to Tartt’s compelling, erudite writing (her first book! Can you even?)

Many of you may have read The Goldfinch by this same author. While that book was also immensely readable, to me The Goldfinch is sprawling and uber-plot-driven in a way that The Secret History successfully avoids. (Yeah, yeah, yeah, fine, I didn’t like The Goldfinch or Crawdads, and you don’t even want to hear what I think of Normal People. I’m out of the book club, I know!)

Now of course, this book has flaws. Of course it veers into self-indulgence (it’s a first book about collegiate Classics students, for crying out loud - it’s practically unavoidable.) And just about every trigger/content warning applies here; I won’t list them because they’re central to the plot reveals but just - if you can think of it, it’s in probably in here. AND it was published in 1992 so it has a bit of a Bret Easton Ellis 80s-90s quality that I’m guessing does not age super well. But if you view it as an immersive whodunit and don’t expect it to be the Great American Novel, I think you’ll enjoy it.

Loved it? Hated it? Let me know!

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And lastly, this is important too:

• If you haven’t already, please send me YOUR top books of the year! I’d love to include them in a year-end wrap up, and I am so thrilled to learn about new books from great people. I requested this last week and have already received a few heretofore unknown suggestions, not to mention made a fun new book penpal (hi Eve hiiii) So people - send me your best books!

• If you’re new here, this was a long one. I’ve received FEEDBACK about this. But every week is a different theme, so please come back (and/or check out past suggestions!)

• All links above go to Bookshop.org, which supports independent bookstores. Please: order your books NOW for the holidays. Please: support indie bookstores. They’re doing the best they can (and this week, I learned about a fraud being visited on indie bookstores resulting in them having to call to verify every GD online order. This is a special kind of badness, bookstore fraud. What NEXT? A kitten trafficking ring?) All my past suggestions can be found and purchased here.