I've never written anything approaching a book review before. Or, come to think of it, even talked very much about the contents of anything I've read - which is kind of strange for a self-confessed book nerd who tends towards the opinionated!
I have of course deeply loved books I've read - and deeply hated others. I've laughed at books, been moved by them, disgusted by them, inspired by them and wept over them (many times). I've consumed them in tiny sections at a time to make the pleasure last as long as possible, deserted them halfway through, felt bereft when they were over, as if I had lost a friend, and thought about them whilst doing other things. I've read them over breakfast, coffee, lunch and dinner, taken them to work with me, brought them to the beach and on picnics. I've used books as pillows, furniture, decoration, shields against unwanted conversation, distraction, consolation, comfort, escape, even as a way to judge another's character (pretentious I know), but I've never really discussed their contents. I've never been a member of a book club, never posted my opinions up on Amazon or Goodreads, and I dropped English A-Level like a hot potato after getting my first and last 'N' grade for an essay about Hamlet *shudder*. I have by and large just kept books in my head after reading, filed away on little shelves labeled 'Yes' and 'No', and been quite content with that.
But actually, I think it's high time I have a go at getting further than 'OMG this book is AMAZING, I loved it!' and try to express exactly why I liked a particular book so much. And since it is definitely my Love of the Day, if not the Year, the honoured tome (lol) on which I have decided to bestow my feeble first attempt is The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt.
OMG this book is AMAZING, I loved it!!
Just kidding.
Without wanting to do the spoiler thing, in a nutshell The Goldfinch is the story of Theodore Decker, a boy whose mother is killed in a bomb blast at an art gallery in New York and the myriad ways that his life is changed by the repercussions of this event. Not my usual cup of tea to be honest, but I was looking for something long enough to keep me going for a while, so I checked out the sample of it on my e-reader and got drawn in immediately.
It may sound strange, but reading this book felt, to me, like waking up in my own bed at home. Not any adult bed in any current / recent home, but that bed in the eternal nostalgic home of childhood that you sometimes imagine you are still in for a split second upon waking. The bedroom where everything felt safe and comforting and looked-after. The bed that was yours when the world was still a mysterious, amazing, exciting place, full of potential and out there waiting to be discovered - but, reassuringly, you didn't have to actually do it just yet. I started reading The Goldfinch during a pretty shifting-sands, turbulent few weeks in my life and it was a total balm for my soul. It reminded me, somehow - even though I have little in common with the characters and the story-line is completely remote from my existence - of who I am and what I want, what I enjoy of the world.
Tartt manages to convey both the inner and the outer worlds of her protagonist, all the way from pre-teen boy through to mid-twenties adult man, using the notoriously tricky first-person and it's absolutely convincing. You never question the authenticity of his voice for one second and that's quite a feat, considering that the subject matter includes: love at first sight, homosexual experimentation, drug and alcohol consumption, post-traumatic stress disorder, theft, being fostered, and several bereavements. There's nothing trite, patronising, or try-hard about it. Tartt isn't trying to be 'down with the kids', or edgy, or use the story to get a moral message across. It just feels real. You are Theo; you understand him. The very internal-ness of the writing allows it to speak directly to the readers own interior, creating an intimate, dream-like connection.
The novel consistently navigates difficult waters delicately and elegantly, always acheiving grace and substance, evading any hint of tackiness or cliche. The portrayal of Boris, for example - Russian by way of Poland, Australia and Las Vegas, Boris speaks an eccentric, slightly broken English, drinks heavily, leads Theo astray, and eventually becomes some kind of international gangster - could so easily have descended into spoofish ridicule, but Tartt's perfectly pitched rendering of him results instead in an endearing, intelligent and rounded character. Similarly, one of the most significant elements of the story, Theo's first encounters with Pippa when they are both still very young, is related so beautifully that this small hook is strong enough, credible enough, to hang the obsession of his later years on. These pivotal yet brief meetings between what are, essentially, two children could so easily have been indulgently saccharine, or even worse - the opposite - precociously and inappropriately adult. But in Tartt's skilled hands it is innocent, simple and dignified.
The jewels in this author's crown, though, are her rich, glimmering descriptive passages. They are so evocative and atmospheric, I basically want to wallow in them forever. From noir-ish hotel rooms in Amsterdam, to upper-class, antique-strewn apartments in New York, to soulless, barren Las Vegas suburbia, its all just... beautiful. There's no other word for it.
Everything about this book is utterly addictive, nuanced, satisfyingly profound and aesthetically comforting. I am no English Lit student - as I'm sure is abundantly clear from this pile of steaming waffle - and I have no real idea where to begin with technical analysis or critique, but I do know that this book is a damn fine creation. It's stunning. I delayed finishing it by over a month just so that it wouldn't be over and now it is I feel sad and desperate for more. I would literally kill to be able to write like her.
Apparently Ms Tartt only publishes one book every ten years and I guess it's worth the wait when they're this good. Luckily for me though there are two previous novels and I, for one, will be devouring them over breakfast, coffee, lunch and dinner for the next few months.
You probably should too, you know - I mean, I don't like to be pushy, her work might not be for everyone. But go on, READ SOME TARTT.
*Have I written this whole post purely for an excuse to repeat the surname 'Tartt', which I find highly amusing, over and over again? Possibly... I couldn't look you in the eye and deny it...
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