The Secret History: a critique on the quest for elitism and classism

a novel by Donna Tartt.

Dear Reader,

How are the state of affairs on your end? If you were to ask me, I’d say i spend most of my time reminiscing about the past. Specifically, the days when I was reading ‘‘The Secret History” by Donna Tartt.

“Forgive me, for all the things I did but mostly for the ones that I did not.”

Reading “The Secret History” amidst the days of November, huddled beneath my blanket with a warm cup of hot chocolate beside me, allowed me to indulge in the very aesthetic that had been prompted to me by TikTok, as it recommended this book to me. Its ironic, really. How this book is used to romanticize the aesthetics of dark academia whereas upon reading it you realize, how nothing is truly worth romanticizing in this book.

The picture painted by the masses in regards to this book, is one in which the whimsy and the serenity of academia is captured. It wouldn’t be wrong to picture a group of students dressed in plaid patterns, trench coats and doc martins, chugging down cups of black coffee, scribbling words on a parchment paper with a vintage fountain pen and questioning everything that is and is not.

In my mind, these students would prove themselves to be the true virtue of intellect and wit. Imagine my surprise, when i read what the darling character Francis Abernathy says to our protagonist on their very first interaction and I quote:

“Cubitum Eamus?”

To say I was surprised, would be an understatement. This book, in all its glory, entails the vast aesthetics of self destruction. Whether its Richard Papen, our main protagonist, doing coke in the Burger King parking lot, the entire group dancing in the middle of the woods in their bathrobes and of course, them collectively conducting a murder.

All this might make it seem as if I hated this book. Which I did not. I actually enjoyed this book. A lot. So much so that I even ended up giving it 4.5 stars on goodreads. To me, the thing that piqued my interest the most, was the author herself. It had been such a rare occurrence for me, to feel as if the author and I had brains wired in the same way. The ways in which she wrote her book, formed sentences, wrote the characters, made me feel this strange sense of kinship. And so, I pulled out a very old interview of her that was available on YouTube, to get some sense of who this author was. To say the very least, she did not disappoint.

I remember, how during this interview, she mentioned that what required the most effort on her part while writing this novel, was having to narrate how the event would roll out in the perspective of the narrator. Its as if two people are sitting on the opposite ends of a table, in front of an audience and a bomb has been placed beneath the table. The audience is aware of the fact that this bomb might explode anytime soon, but the two people sitting near the table, remain blissfully unaware. Having to write how the tragic event of Bunny’s murder would unfold and how each character plays its role, is a feat conquered by no ordinary mind. Such is the genius of Donna Tartt.

I believe this letter would feel rather desolate if I don’t go on a tangent talking about my favorite character from this book. Who’s none other than Henry Winter.

A tremendously well written character, in my very humble opinion. I mean, what’s there to not like? This man was unaware of the moon landing, carried an umbrella with him all the time, had an unhealthy obsession with Homer, refused to take the SATs as they ruined his ‘aesthetic’, wrote his journal entries in Latin and last but not least, murdered his best friend by pushing him off a cliff. What a man, I must say. His entire existence encapsulated the core essence of this book. He was brilliantly intelligent and capable of many things, yet it wouldn’t be wrong to say that this man rejected modernity with every cell of his being.

Reading and studying dead languages is another matter in and of itself, whereas refusing to acknowledge any prospect of modernism because you cannot escape the high of elitism, reeks of stupidity. Even for Henry. Many may argue, is it really stupid of him to embrace his passions with confidence and study them with dedication? Not really. But if these passions cause you to seclude yourself in a bubble and lead you to acquire an elitist nature towards others, then yes.

Here, the character, Bunny plays a pivotal role. As he was the only viable link to reality for Henry. And you would think that by getting rid of him, Henry might have been able to achieve the true essence of elitism he had always aimed for. Instead, he became an unrecognizable mess. Because nothing gnaws at your conscious and eats you inside better on the inside, than guilt. Guilty of a crime. Guilty of murdering someone in cold blood.

I could go on and on about this book. I have so many thoughts I would like to share about the rest of the characters. Since, each and every one them play an essential part in this story. But, dear reader, I think we’d have to end this here today. I hope I was able to entertain you with my ramblings. That seemed to go on forever. And if you happen to feel the same way about anything I have said in this letter, feel free to share it with me! Till then, I hope you have a lovely day.

Warm Regards,

Alizay♡