The Goldfinch

It's difficult for me to find the words to sum up my feelings about this book succinctly and adequately, but I suppose that's okay since it's how I feel about Donna Tartt's writing as well.

What at times is a highly entertaining coming of age story with a dash of adventure thrown in bogs down at regular intervals in a lot of overly precious prose, while the end chapter is a bunch of soapbox moralizing that seems to have been lifted from an entirely different work.

I enjoyed Theo's story arc well enough despite the flaws to keep reading on, since he's an interestingly sympathetic anti-hero. It was fun deciding just how long I could continue forgiving his many bad decisions and transgressions. It's more of a three and a half star read for me, but I bumped it up that extra half star because Theo held my interest beyond where the events and the prose should have turned me off.

Carel Fabritius was a talented Dutch painter who was considered Rembrandt’s most gifted pupil. His paintings often featured delicately lit subjects against a light coloured background. He moved away from Rembrandt’s renaissance focus and developed his own painting style, with a strong interest in the technical. In 1654 he was injured in The Delft Explosion; 30 tonnes of gunpowder exploded destroying most of the city. Fabritius soon died from his injuries at the age of 32. Possibly one of the last paintings he ever painted, The Goldfinch depicts a goldfinch (a popular pet of the time) on light background. This piece shows his control over a heavily loaded brush as well as demonstrates his interest in lighting and texture.

Donna Tartt’s new novel The Goldfinch tells the story of Theo Decker, who survived a terrorist attack on a New York museum. Moments before the explosion his mother was pointing out Fadritius’ painting and telling Theo why she loved it; in all the confusion Theo manages to take the painting. Orphaned and alone, Theo struggles to find his place in this world while also trying to avoid being taken by the city.

While The Goldfinch is essentially a coming of age story, there are some interesting social observations being played out with the help of the stolen painting. On one hand, the painting represents Theo’s love for his mother and his need to hang on. I also feel that the painting represents that part that you keep hidden from the world; the secrets and shames that you tend to think will destroy friendships if revealed. This also serves a purpose when it comes to Theo’s friendship with Boris further in the novel.

While this is a novel about art and its seedy underbelly, I found myself a little disappointed in the lack of art history, art forging or art heists (technically there is a heist but that wasn’t thrilling). When I discovered my love of literature and learning, I also discovered an interest in art and art history, an itch that I’ve not scratched. I was hoping that Tartt’s novel would give me both entertainment and art history lessons but I was left disappointed. I expected Desperate Romantics but all I got was a bulky Catcher in the Rye.

I’m not saying that I didn’t like The Goldfinch, my expectations for the novel was different to what I got. Donna Tartt spends a lot of time looking at the idea of terrorist attacks and the lasting effects they have on the families of the victims and survivors. This grief serves as a baseline for Theo throughout the novel. Often it can be forgotten about but then you catch glimpses of the scars that remain and while they don’t justify his behaviour it really serve as evidence of the emotional rollercoaster he is stuck on. Tartt’s character development is the key to this book; she has created richly complex and flawed characters that feel so real. Theo, in particular, serves as both the narrator and protagonist; his voice throughout the novel manages to be both direct and reflective.

Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch is complex but over padded; there is a lot that could be cut out to make this a shorter book. I can appreciate the way she captured the life of Theo Decker; making this a sweeping saga, packed with emotion and growth, still would be achievable with a hundred or more pages removed. This is a tragicomedy in every sense of the word but my biggest problem was that there were some situations where things resolved themselves a little too conveniently; it happens but not that often.

In the end, I found myself sitting on the fence with The Goldfinch. On one hand the characters and development of this novel was spectacular. The other hand is the fact my initial expectations weren’t met and the novel dragged on too much. I know that expectations should never get in the way of a good book and my head is telling me that I should jump on the bandwagon, however my heart just isn’t in it. I’ve heard good things about The Secret History but I have reservations about it now.

This review originally appeared on my blog; literary-exploration.com/2014/04/20/the-goldfinch-by-donna-tartt/

I loved this novel -- I'm hosting my book club tonight, and will definitely recommend it. Not only is the story exciting and well-paced (I had a hard time putting it down for the full 800 pages), but the characters are well-written and sympathetic, and the underlying message -- that life is full of surprising twists, and no matter how good or bad our intentions are, we can't predict how our decisions will play out over the long run -- was well-illustrated. The only reason I didn't give it 5 stars was that the last chapter left such a bad taste in my mouth. It's an epilogue where the protagonist speaks directly to the reader with a "here's the moral of the story!" pedantry that would have been best omitted altogether. The rest of the novel makes it's point just fine: We're all little goldfinches, chained to the post of fate.

Except when it was too didactic/naively philosophical, I was completely sucked in. The details were never unbelievable, the dialogue, choices of slang, exotic subcultural references never incorrect. The reader will be convinced that the author's research required her to spend time as a suicidal, drug-using, depressed, criminal. And if she suffered for it, we fully appreciate her for going through with it.

In the midst of characters who forget their limitations, there are many moments of absolute perfection. They called pssst to me from the dark alley that I didn't think Hobie should be using as a metaphor. Boris, maybe. Or even Theo. But the uniqueness of the experience of beauty in the varying eyes of the various beholders along with the seeming simultaneous universality of the messages, except where they are only available to some of the people some of the time, is a true contradiction. And it's all expressed (when it is) in a way that makes it a discovery, rather than a foregone conclusion.