AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT....

I wrote this a few years ago so I wouldn't forget the most unforgettable novel I have read in recent decades.  I promptly forgot all about The Goldfinch, and don't know if I posted this anywhere previously, but I stumbled on this today.  I hereby put it out here for anyone who loves literature and hasn't yet read this amazing book.

Loving and Hating The Goldfinch

I thought I was alone when I first thought of Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch as “Dickensian.”  Now that I have finished this 700+ page novel and have looked back at what has been said about this book, I see that many have called it so.  Why is it Dickensian?   We have the saga of a sad, orphaned boy who drifts from adventure to adventure as he grows up, who encounters an assortment of vivid characters along the way, (many with unlikely names like “Hobie”,  “Bracegirdle” and “Kitsey”), a life journey that veers this way and that under the influence of these many encounters as he searches for someone to love and protect him.   We have the portraits of how the rich live and how the poor survive, what brings them unhappiness and what brings them joy, though joy is shortlived for all, it seems.  There is the questionable ethics of heroes and villains alike, an unrequited love.  I could go on.

I loved and hated this book.  It is the first one in my memory not an academic requirement that I finished despite my feelings of sorrow, depression, anger, frustration and disgust.  Practically speaking, the length was daunting and not every chapter was compelling.  Why did I keep reading?  Aside from not wanting to disappoint my book club, and out of respect for its Pulitzer, I kept turning the pages because I had to find out what would happen to the unfortunate young man, Theo.  Without giving too much away,  I will explain a few reasons why he captivated me.

His sadness and loneliness were palpable; yet his inner voice and outer behaviors were fascinating and frustrating in their incompatibility.  Sometimes I wanted to slap him for his wrongheaded actions.  Would he ever finally grow up and get his life together?  Would the painting be his salvation and would he ever be able to restore it to its rightful place?  Would he ever connect with a friend or relative who could show him true understanding and love?  Would he break Hobie’s heart with disappointment?  Would Pippa ever truly see the real Theo?   Would the terrorist attack be explained as anything more than a plot device?  I could go on.

This book is an experience. There were passages of mindblowing writing and philosophical asides that tapped into some of my own ideas about humanity, morality, life, death, the universe.   While reading it has left me with a kind of spiritual exhaustion, it is not because it is all sorrow and pity.  There is the painting.  The author’s use of a famous work of art from 1654 as the cause celebre in Theo’s life keeps straight the thread of his adventures.  His love of The Goldfinch, his mission to protect it, is the most reliable and beautiful fragment of hope in his difficult journey.  The irony of what we learn happens to the painting does not diminish its value to Theo. The idea of the painting, a timeless thing of beauty, is Theo’s life ring.

In the end, it has saved him: 

“Insofar as it is immortal (and it is) I have a small, bright, immutable part in that immortality.  It exists; and it keeps on existing  And I add my own love to the history of people who have loved beautiful things, and looked out for them, and pulled them from the fire, and sought them when they were lost, and tried to preserve them and save them while passing them along literally from hand-to hand, singing out brilliantly from the wreck of time to the next generation of lovers, and the next.”