NAME: The Goldfinch
SPECS: Novel, 2013, Donna Tartt (there's a movie too but I haven't watched it yet)
SUMMARY: The loss-ridden life of a boy and a painting.
OVERALL RATING: H+I
MATURITY LEVEL: Pretty high - there's a whole lot of drug use, some sexual content, and a lot of distressing events.
WHAT I’VE BEEN STRUCK/MOVED BY: A lot of things. First of all, this woman is an incredible writer. Her writing has some mysterious quality to it that I can only think to describe as “luminous” or, alternatively, as “having heft to it.” Both of those are terrible descriptors for this beautiful way of writing that doesn’t just make you feel the experience of what’s happening on the page; it makes you experience the events in such a way as to also experience their mysterious significance and beauty.
Secondly, I was (perhaps foolishly) caught off guard by how much I could relate to the protagonist. Although my life looks almost nothing like his, I could recognize motivations and feelings – the fallout of grief, the squirming weight of a constricting secret, the agonizing rollercoaster of “loving the wrong person”. Even my current nomadic lifestyle was curiously echoed in his homelessness.
Given both of those things, it should come as no surprise that the story was filled with stunning quotes – descriptions of beauty or of feelings that made me feel utterly inadequate as a writer, but also excited to get better at a craft that can look like this.
And finally, I don’t want to spoil anything about the conclusion of the story, but it’s something I’ll be thinking about for a long time.
(Spoiler alert section below):
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A FAVORITE QUOTE: I had so many favorites, I’m only going to share a couple of the ones right near the end that I particularly loved – about art and beauty and what to make of them.
“If a painting really works down in your heart and changes the way you see, and think, and feel , you don’t think, ‘oh, I love this painting because it’s universal.’ ‘I love this painting because it speaks to all mankind.’ That’s not the reason anyone loves a piece of art. It’s a secret whisper from an alleyway. Psst, you. Hey kid. Yes you.”
“those images that strike the heart and set it blooming like a flower, images that open up some much, much larger beauty that you can spend your whole life looking for and never find.”
“beauty alters the grain of reality. And I keep thinking too of the more conventional wisdom: namely, that the pursuit of pure beauty is a trap, a fast track to bitterness and sorrow, that beauty has to be wedded to something more meaningful. Only what is that thing?”
“Or – like Boris – is it better to throw yourself head first and laughing into the holy rage calling your name?
It’s not about outward appearances but inward significance. A grandeur in the world, but not of the world, a grandeur that the world doesn’t understand. That first glimpse of pure otherness, in whose presence you bloom out and out and out.
A self one does not want. A heart one cannot help.”
WHAT I WAS STRUCK/MOVED BY - SPOILER VERSION: Again, so many things.
I was so impressed by the twists and turns of the ending. Not so much because there were twists and turns but because of how viscerally and completely I felt each of them. First the claustrophobic tightening in of the plot, especially once we get to Amsterdam showing all the signs of a tragedy; his life so clearly headed for destruction for reasons that, though at least partly his fault, were so deeply sympathetic. I was steeling myself to be wrecked by his destruction and to have little if any hope for redemption. But then, the total change in atmosphere when he finally decides he’s done hiding and is going to turn himself in. I felt the horizons widening and peace, even within me, that he was going to stop living under such crippling weight. And then of course Boris finally shows up with, what Tolkien would call news of the “Eucatastrophe”, the sudden turn for good which would be beyond belief except that the story absolutely did set up all the right pieces for this to be a believable outcome. And Boris’s proclamations were the perfect kind of chaotic joy:
“Stewardship of cultural treasure! Great joy! All the angels are singing!... Free and legal! Shining in plain sight like the sun! I know I never thought of it – not until now. Worldwide happiness and joy! Lost masterworks recovered!”
His reflections too, on goodness prevailing and redemption of the mess that had come before were beautiful, “Maybe the one had to be lost for the others to be found?”
And I also loved Theo’s description of Boris,
“And it occurred to me that despite his faults, which were numerous and spectacular, the reason I’d liked Boris and felt happy around him from almost the moment I’d met him was that he was never afraid. You didn’t meet many people who moved freely through the world with such a vigorous contempt for it and at the same time such oddball and unthwartable faith in what, in childhood, he had liked to call “the Planet of Earth”.”
And it’s so much better that it didn’t end there. Sometimes an overly reflective chunk of a conclusion can spoil the effect, but I think, given the characters, it worked well. For one, to finally have Hobie in the know and to see him still love Theo – a question that has been hanging over Theo’s head for the whole book. But also his and Theo’s reflections on beauty and mystery and not having the answers didn’t try to be a neatly packaged wrap up, but the natural conclusion.
And, while less important than some aspects, I also loved that we see Theo at the end, in some way, serving justice for what he has done. And it’s not a punitive or even a particularly painful justice – I think there would be some cruelty in seeing that as the culmination of all the tragedy in his life. Rather, it’s a peaceful and restorative process by which he will be able to come back to his life feeling more whole and at rest with himself.
REFLECTION IDEAS TO START WITH:
- go to an art museum, browse for a little bit, but only so that you can pick out just one painting to stare at for a long time.
- what are the secrets that weigh on you and is there a path by which you can “cease your evasive action”?
- how did you feel about Boris and why?
- how do you feel about Theo and Hobie’s descriptions of beauty? Do they match your experience? Or do you fall into the conventional wisdom camp?
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