mikewilson reviewed The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt
Review of 'The Goldfinch' on 'Goodreads'
3 stars
First 350 pages were pretty great. As for the other 400, the less said the better.
Paperback, 868 pages
Published Jan. 1, 2014 by Abacus.
"The Goldfinch is a rarity that comes along perhaps half a dozen times per decade, a smartly written literary novel that connects with the heart as well as the mind....Donna Tartt has delivered an extraordinary work of fiction."--Stephen King, The New York Times Book Review
Composed with the skills of a master, The Goldfinch is a haunted odyssey through present day America and a drama of enthralling force and acuity.
It begins with a boy. Theo Decker, a thirteen-year-old New Yorker, miraculously survives an accident that kills his mother. Abandoned by his father, Theo is taken in by the family of a wealthy friend. Bewildered by his strange new home on Park Avenue, disturbed by schoolmates who don't know how to talk to him, and tormented above all by his unbearable longing for his mother, he clings to one thing that reminds him of her: a small, mysteriously captivating painting …
"The Goldfinch is a rarity that comes along perhaps half a dozen times per decade, a smartly written literary novel that connects with the heart as well as the mind....Donna Tartt has delivered an extraordinary work of fiction."--Stephen King, The New York Times Book Review
Composed with the skills of a master, The Goldfinch is a haunted odyssey through present day America and a drama of enthralling force and acuity.
It begins with a boy. Theo Decker, a thirteen-year-old New Yorker, miraculously survives an accident that kills his mother. Abandoned by his father, Theo is taken in by the family of a wealthy friend. Bewildered by his strange new home on Park Avenue, disturbed by schoolmates who don't know how to talk to him, and tormented above all by his unbearable longing for his mother, he clings to one thing that reminds him of her: a small, mysteriously captivating painting that ultimately draws Theo into the underworld of art.
As an adult, Theo moves silkily between the drawing rooms of the rich and the dusty labyrinth of an antiques store where he works. He is alienated and in love-and at the center of a narrowing, ever more dangerous circle.
The Goldfinch is a novel of shocking narrative energy and power. It combines unforgettably vivid characters, mesmerizing language, and breathtaking suspense, while plumbing with a philosopher's calm the deepest mysteries of love, identity, and art. It is a beautiful, stay-up-all-night and tell-all-your-friends triumph, an old-fashioned story of loss and obsession, survival and self-invention, and the ruthless machinations of fate.
First 350 pages were pretty great. As for the other 400, the less said the better.
It was indeed overwritten as I'd read critics say, but usually the content made it enjoyable anyway: interesting and disparate cities, family and class, early adolescent friendship, dealing with your own grief and how other people insinuate themselves in it. It's less enjoyable as the book goes on and culminates in a frustrating, heady conceit. It felt like she spent spent 700 pages getting at an idea and, having lost her nerve, spent the last few rhapsodizing instead, not giving the reader enough credit.
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 …
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.
Okay, I'm giving this book 5 stars even though I really feel like 4 1/2, just because Donna Tarrt is an excellent writer and I'm just gonna go ahead a let it officially read 5 stars. But why do I really think she only deserves 4 1/2? Well, the book kind of drags on a bit in some parts (could have easily been 50 pages shorter IMHO without losing anything). Not that her writing isn't gorgeous and poetic at all times because it is, only, well, sometimes less is better. Reading about someone's every little thought and reaction gets tiresome after a while. Especially when the character is just spinning his wheels, indecisive, fretting. Also some of the things that happen later in the book seem just a tad bit implausible... What do I know though? I think stealing art works would be the stupidest crime to commit. I mean …
Okay, I'm giving this book 5 stars even though I really feel like 4 1/2, just because Donna Tarrt is an excellent writer and I'm just gonna go ahead a let it officially read 5 stars. But why do I really think she only deserves 4 1/2? Well, the book kind of drags on a bit in some parts (could have easily been 50 pages shorter IMHO without losing anything). Not that her writing isn't gorgeous and poetic at all times because it is, only, well, sometimes less is better. Reading about someone's every little thought and reaction gets tiresome after a while. Especially when the character is just spinning his wheels, indecisive, fretting. Also some of the things that happen later in the book seem just a tad bit implausible... What do I know though? I think stealing art works would be the stupidest crime to commit. I mean what the hell do you DO with it??? Even so Tarrt manages to build up a whole world in this novel, believable, heart breaking, peopled by characters that will both charm you and exasperate and repulse you. Her world will draw you in and never be far from your thoughts even when you must leave her world and tend to your own. (sigh)
Oh yeah!
Donna Tarrt can write! She has a real gift for describing her characters, warts and all, completely understanding their motivations, longings, psychological quirks, a gift for plot lines that proceed in unexpected ways, her attention to detail and descriptions, as I said, poetic and dreamy. Her previous novel The Little Friend is much maligned here on goodreads and I just don't get it. That is one perfect book! Did we read the same book? Sometimes things don't resolve nicely. That's life. The Goldfinch resolves and the ending is tied up in a bow though, you can't miss it, so most people should be happy about that.
A worthy read. I highly recommend it.