Not sure how a book can be both wonderful and in parts almost
unreadably awful. Reactions to Donna
Tartt’s acclaimed novel The Goldfinch tend to be strong, even extreme,
and mine are no exception. In some ways it’s a very special book indeed; in
others it’s very very ordinary. Reviewers have voiced strong opinions on both sides, and then there's that Pulitzer thing.
First of all the novel is a very straightforward first-person
account of a very straightforward story. In that way it almost feels like children's literature in approach. No flashbacks, no literary high-wire acts, no new tricks or envelope
pushing here. It’s long …. really long ... about 800 pages. The writing is easy to digest. Nothing difficult there. The plot is a bit complex but again not
overly complicated. The cast of
characters is appropriately limited (not as limited as in Tartt’s A Secret History, where the constant intense focus on a small group of friends feels
downright claustrophobic after a while) but also interesting.
The plot concerns a present-day young man and a famous painting (The
Goldfinch) by Fabritius, a 17th-century Dutch painter . The first 150 pages or so are excellent. Tartt is very deft at making interesting connections
between the present-day plot and the historical paintings that figure in the events. She clearly has a deep feeling for visual
art, and her ability to describe multiple dimensions of meaning that resonate
from paintings is very telling. The art
in question comes alive in her prose in surprising and credible ways. Visual art really matters to her,
and she manages to make those feelings come alive for the reader.
The last hundred pages are also excellent. Each of the major characters gets his moment
on stage to summarize his view.
The scene in which Boris comes clean with his take on life is particularly compelling. In these closing sections again
Tartt manages to express many interesting ideas on art and beauty, why we
appreciate them, why we need them, and what they mean to each of us. And there’s the metaphor of restoring
especially beautiful antique furniture.
Tartt makes us understand that beauty is worth the effort to maintain
it, and that our lives require a constant restorative effort in order to remain
in touch with the best that humanity has to offer. The conclusion is very
moving indeed.
And then there’s the middle 500 pages or so. They could have (should have) been edited
down to 200. This part of the book is
very cinematic (there WILL be a movie, I’m sure), but doesn’t make for very
interesting reading. For me it was
absolute drudgery to plow through it. Often twenty pages at a time was all I could
take. Yes things happen, but there
just is't anything to hold my interest.
Plot, plot, plot. Characters that aren't especially interesting or credible, writing that was
ordinary at best. I especially found the endless passages describing drug and alcohol abuse to be flat and unconvincing.
The novel draws on many historical antecedents, especially
Dickens and Salinger. The main character
is written very much in the spirit of Holden Caulfield, and the sidekick
character (Boris) is quirky and interesting in Dickensian ways. There’s an orphan or two (or three). There are very bad guys and very good
guys. There’s an antique store that
recalls The Old Curiosity Shop. There’s
an important young female character that has the innocence and purity of
Nell.
The book's strengths probably justify the Pulitzer Prize it
won this year, but I’m sorry that reading it was such an uneven
experience. It could have been much
tighter and more consistently enjoyable. Perhaps because the experience of a deep
appreciation for visual art is rare for me, I was very moved by Tartt’s ability
to make that art come alive in ways that really matter in everyday life. I will not forget what I learned about the
depth of that experience for others. But
I was truly disappointed and bored (almost to the point of setting the book
aside permanently) with much of the middle.
Well, what’s good is very good; what’s not is really not.
