Published by Little, Brown and Company on 22 Oct 2013
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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 combines vivid characters, mesmerising language, and suspense, while plumbing with a philosopher's calm the deepest mysteries of love, identity, and art. It is an old-fashioned story of loss and obsession, survival and self-invention, and the ruthless machinations of fate.
Just about every review I’ve read for this book has commented on its length. Some people think the story could have been told in less words; some people don’t mind. I personally enjoyed the length, I think because I really enjoyed Donna Tartt's writing style.
Admittedly, there were a few times at the beginning of the novel when I wondered what the heck was going on, what the main conflict was, where it was all leading to, and what was the point. Particularly, The Goldfinch painting seemed to hold so much gravity at the beginning, and it is what the novel is named after, but then The Goldfinch seemed to disappear. For those lost and confused, I'll spoil that the painting later does make a significant reappearance, so trust the process!
That said, I did wonder whether all the stuff that happened in between mattered, why it couldn't just be cut out and maybe make it a little easier for the readers who were overwhelmed by the book's length.
And just as music is the space between notes, just as the stars are beautiful because of the space between them, just as the sun strikes raindrops at a certain angle and throws a prism of color across the sky–so the space where I exist, and want to keep existing, and to be quite frank I hope I die in, is exactly this middle distance: where despair struck pure otherness and created something sublime.
I finally decided that, for me, all that in between made the story more poignant because it was reflective of real life. For me, real life is made of these in between moments. You don't know what the bigger picture of your life is until you look back on it. You aren't given cues in real life like you might get in mystery novels or films -- no intensifying background music, no telling camera angles. You don't latch onto every observation. Many things pass you by -- some big, some small.
It didn't hurt that I loved Donna Tartt's writing style and wanted to marinate in her words for as long as I could. If I didn't love her writing style so much (which is simply a matter of personal taste), I don't know whether I would have made it through the novel, so I sympathise with those of you who are overwhelmed. (Okay fine, I probably would have made it through anyway, since I'm terrible at dropping books, even ones I don't enjoy, but it would have taken me forever.)
But don't let the book's daunting size discourage you! I would recommend reading through the first few pages if it intrigues you and getting a feel for the writing. You might find that you love it as much as I do!
