The Goldfinch: A Novel (Pulitzer Prize for Fiction)

I didn't so much read The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt as I was swept up in its powerful and sublime narrative with its exploration of love, loss, beauty, material objects and the relationship we can form with these and other people in our lives and how the choices we make, which are embedded in a moral code, define us. The novel tells the tale of Theodore Decker who, suspended from school because of a questionable friendship he has formed as opposed to his own behaviour, has his life upended and shattered when he survives a tragedy that rocks New York. In the moments before and in the immediate aftermath of the disaster, he forms a bond with a young girl called Pippa and old man named Welty, both of whom become touchstones in what his life will become. Amid all the horror and shock that unfolds, Theo does something quite strange, he takes something extremely valuable and beautiful and tells no one what he has done. The consequences of this one action will echo and influence his life choices, merge into the memories of his past and erupt into the present in a prescient manner offering escape, promise and danger. The novel then follows Theo's life and the impact loss and accidental gain have upon him. His grief, his torment, the monotony and loneliness of his days are charted as he becomes not so much a victim of circumstance, but a victim of those determined to follow bureaucratic processes, tick their boxes and do the 'right thing' by this silent and oft sullen young man. This section of the book is heart-wrenching as well-intentioned people fail to see or understand how much Theo needs connection, longs for real communication and feeling, for someone to do more than simply satisfy the social niceties and offer platitudes. The only thing that allows him a link to his life before the tragedy, to experience and build any kind of emotional bridge is the object he has stolen. It speaks to him in ways that the humans in his life, even those closest to him, cannot. It isn't until he meets James Hobart, Hobie, an antique restorer and friend of Welty's, and is reunited with Pippa that a semblance of meaning, if not hope, enters his life. But even this is transitory as Theo is at the whim of forces he cannot control and so his life is taken on journeys, undergoes trajectories he can neither navigate or foresee and, on the way, he collides and connects with others: his recalcitrant father, the ebullient and wonderfully strange Boris, the aloof but kind Barbours. Anchoring him on the ride his life becomes is his great secret, the object that has come to fill the hole left by the absence of those he loves. From New York to Las Vegas to Amsterdam, from high society to the seedy underworld of crime and shady deals, drugs and booze, the novel follows Theo from his teens to his late twenties. Exquisitely written, it is a story I could not put down. Tartt's ability to enter the mind and hearts of adolescents and adults is acute and heartfelt. Often philosophical and littered with references from popular and 'high' culture, the reader is swept along in the currents and eddies of Theo's life in much the way he is. Filled with rich and complex characters, humour in surprising places, touching scenes that wring the heart and others that leave you frustrated and discontent, there is never a dull moment and, frankly, I was astonished by a few readers' reviews that declared nothing happened in this novel. It may centre on a character who fundamentally embraces nihilism - or attempts to - but everything happens in this book. Everything that makes us human, that drives our needs, desires and hopes is explored. It seeks to understand what is free will, what is determinism. It ponders the great questions that have entertained and confounded philosophers since Aristotle, questions about life and death and meaning. It also asks, do we make our own luck or misfortune or is it somehow predestined? It is a morally and ethically complex novel that among many notions teases out the idea: do good acts necessarily lead to good outcomes and vice-a-versa? What if the wrong or bad decision can lead to the right ending? Or a good one bring about catastrophe? Does that make the entire choice or the person making it evil or their choice necessarily wrong? These are questions characters unconsciously embrace and finally ask outright. It’s left to us, the reader, to decide whether or not the answers are worthy or right (or not). A fantastic story that lingers in the heart and head and which, like the object at its centre and the young man who obsesses over it, captivates you and whispers, “I have been written for you alone.” (Something that will make sense once you have read this utterly beautiful and haunting tale). Cannot recommend highly enough.

I liked this book quite a bit but unsure if it will make my top 10 list. The story is great and Tartt is a gifted writer. Character development is wonderful and I loved the philosophical issues explored, primarily with Theo, the protagonist. My only negatives are that it is very long, 770 pages. In in of itself that is not a bad thing but here, for me, there were several sections that seemed to drag on which I found to be a distraction to the flow. A few times I found myself "skimming" to get past some of the prose. With that said I definitly recommend reading. All and all it is very good book.

Wow. I've read some good books lately, but I'd been searching for that <I>extra special</I> book for a long time -- a book that I can get thoroughly and completely involved in; a book I hate to put down and cannot wait to pick up again; a book that, when I have finished reading it, I grieve that there's not more. Because I'm hooked. The Goldfinch, by Donna Tartt, was that book for me. A short synopsis: the main character is Theo and the story is told from his first-person point of view. His entire life is affected by the events of one tragic day in New York City when he was 13, the day his mother died. In his words, <i>"... though everything that's happened to me since then is thoroughly my own fault, still when I lost her I lost sight of any landmark that might have led me someplace happier, to some more populated or congenial life. Her death the dividing mark: Before and After."</i> The tragedy that took Theo's mother's life (and almost his own) was an unexplained explosion in an art museum (terrorist bombing?). It also took the life of an elderly man, a complete stranger, who spoke his dying and somewhat incoherent words to Theo, entrusting him with a ring and one of the paintings that had been knocked off the wall of the museum. The painting had a very special significance to the old man, who seemed to fear it would be destroyed if Theo didn't take it. The painting, it turned out, was a priceless 17th century masterpiece titled, you guessed it, "The Goldfinch". Theo's father had abandoned them some months prior to the explosion, so his mother's death left Theo a virtual orphan. Thus began his search for a home, a sense of belonging, shelter for both himself and the purloined painting and a long, grief-filled journey to adulthood. His journey began in the home of a school friend, where Theo was fostered for several months. During that time, Theo found Hobie through clues provided on the old man's ring. Hobie later became the closest thing to "family" Theo would ever know. Meanwhile, Theo's absentee father showed up and whisked him off to Las Vegas, away from all he'd ever known. There he met Boris, a refugee from just about everywhere. Boris became a lifelong friend, who provided both salvation and damnation in equal doses. The boys indulged in alcohol, drugs and petty crime and thus began Theo's self-destructive slide into addiction. The untimely death of Theo's father made Theo a true orphan. He caught a bus back to NYC, to more familiar surroundings, in another attempt to find "home". Theo found Hobie again, and "home". Donna Tartt's skillful narrative is amazingly compelling. Her descriptive passages are so beautiful and perfect that even when she is describing abject depression, she paints with words a picture that is complete and truthful and irresistible. In this passage Tartt, through Theo's voice, describes his abject grief for the loss of his mother, a recurring leitmotif that haunts Theo (and the reader) throughout the book: <I>"But sometimes, unexpectedly, grief pounded over me in waves that left me gasping; and when the waves washed back, I found myself looking out over a brackish wreck which was illumined in a light so lucid, so heartsick and empty, that I could hardly remember that the world had ever been anything but dead."</I> Not only can the author deftly describe depressive states, but also glorious, though fleeting, happiness as in this passage: <I>"And the flavor of Pippa's kiss--bittersweet and strange--stayed with me all the way back uptown, swaying and sleepy as I sailed home on the bus, melting with sorrow and loveliness, a starry ache that lifted me up above the windswept city like a kite: my head in the rainclouds, my heart in the sky."</I> When this author describes a city street in New York, the reader is right there, in New York, hearing with perfect clarity the traffic and experiencing the smells of the city. When she writes about a failed housing development on the outskirts of Las Vegas, you can easily visualize the desert reclaiming the abandoned streets and the emptiness of the sad, lonely houses. Upon entering his father's Vegas house, Theo observed: <I>"The air inside smelled hot and stale: old cigarette smoke, new carpet, and--no question about it--dog shit."</I> I could go on -- boy, could I go on. I highlighted so many passages of this book -- passages that so completely and totally spoke to my heart -- that if I cited them all here, I'd be guilty of reproducing so much of the book that Amazon would ban me. In spite of the fact that I, personally, don't usually like to read about addicts, I couldn't help but stay with Theo and wish for him redemption and healing. He's just that kind of character. And Donna Tartt is just that kind of author. This book left me wanting more -- not because anything was left out, but because it's just so good. And that feeling doesn't happen often enough.

The Goldfinch is a wonderment. YOu cannot help but love the writing, but the book is just too long and the author seems to be showing off her knowledge of many things -- language, her understanding of furniture restoration, drug use, Europe, the ins and outs of NYC and especially her familiarity with Dickens (she even has a "Pippa" in the book -- and there are lots of British-y words tossed in, often insider slangy terms.) My biggest complaint: the book never ends. And the final ending is tortuously drawn out for the fairly minor point it makes: life is difficult but short, so enjoy it. And that is my major gripe. We really don't have that much time to enjoy life if we spend it reading books this unnecessarily long. One more edit would have done the job to make this truly the best book of the decade. It would not have lost much to give up a few of those minutely detailed days in that hotel room in Amsterdam at the end. If that had happened, I would agree with all the high praise Donna Tartt has received. I did finish the book and was happy I read it, but I would have been happier, even elated, if it had been more tightly presented. I don't need to know every time Theo vomits or takes a bus. I get it that the book is written to give a close account of lives and choices that we can make or are given to us to manage. I get it that life goes on and on and on. And on. I realize the author is creating her masterpiece. But do we need to see every move and moment so closely -- and then occasionally skip long periods of time? I did love many of the book's characters. Boris was charming with his bad personal habits and outlandish approach to life, fairness, friendship and love. Hobie was well drawn as the kindhearted and loving man who saved the main character, Theo, and gave him an orderly life. (However, I read about Hobie's large hands a few too many times.) I also liked Andy, the brilliant oafish delight, the mysterious Pippa, and Kitsy, the spoiled airhead we've all known and loved for being an airhead. Too, Mrs. Barbour was perfect as the politically overly-polite Park Avenue matron, close-mouthed and perfectly poised, dressed and coifed at all times and perpetually attending or throwing a party. Tartt writes extremely well and creatively, and the book's point of view is that of a grown Holden Caulfield a la Pip. It is Tartt's American omage to Dickens. Very American, very New York, very much a portrait of today, vey much a portrait of a young man trapped between worlds, just like the Goldfinch. Ultimately, the book was hard to read and Tartt was lucky I persevered. Many people I know skimmed it. I did not. Yes, it will stay with me, but it took a lot to get through and it probably would stay with me longer if it had been edited one last time. Like life (which is maybe the author's point), the book is a little disappointing - but you can get through it if you have a few good friends. In my case, my book group... It's definitely worth reading, but an effort that may not totally pay off. Like life, I guess. Maybe even a bit like Dickens.

I am convinced that Donna Tartt, the beguiling, brilliant, and reclusive Southern novelist writes a novel every ten years so people can say: this is the best book I've read in ten years. Each of her novels are startlingly different in tone, subject matter, setting, and characterization, yet all of them are delicately composed, stunningly structured, and beautifully written. Her cult following is both assured and deserved. Her first two novels make my personal Top 100 list, and in my humble opinion, The Goldfinch is her finest work. I'm going to avoid the pretentious genre marker that other reviewers seem to be using on here with reckless abandon (hint: it sounds like an outdated font) and simply classify this novel as a present-day coming-of-age story. 13-year-old Theo Dekker loses his mother in a terrorist attack at the Met. In the hazy, horrific aftermath Theo commits art theft (referencing the painting of the novel's title, currently on display at The Frick, here in NYC, along with some other Dutch painters) and the book begins to explore its central themes of love, loss, redemption, and how no one truly survives a tragedy without having at least a part of them die in it. But the book goes deeper than that. It tests the bounds of friendship, how much of our familial flaws are entrapped within our DNA, snaring and empowering us, and the power and beauty of art: how it seduces and destroys us. "Dickensian" is an apt description of the novel, and fitting since Tartt was wholly influenced by Dickens (there is a lawyer named "Bracegirdle"), but I believe those who do not like Dickens will still enjoy this novel. Like Dickens, the engine of the story is in the fascinating and varied characters that Tartt creates (even the minor ones) as Theo, a sudden orphan, lost and alone, gets shuffled around as grief, terror, and tragedy loom up around him, blinding his conscience as well as his future. The conflict builds through characterization, and the action of the book spirals out of the souls of each of these frighteningly vivid and multi-layered people, most of them haunted and lost (to a degree) themselves. The frosty, fusty, slightly campy world of Park Avenue and the Barbours (in one of the novel's funniest and most chilling sections) gives way to the phony glare and gleam of the Las Vegas desert (in the novel's most effective section) as Theo is reconnected with his deadbeat actor dad and his dad's dopey, sleazy girlfriend, Xandra. We begin to understand, in the world of The Goldfinch, how some people wear their wounds as scars, while others swallow them like benzos. Everyone is broken, it's all in degrees. Theo befriends Boris, a drugged-out, alcoholic, abused, ambisexual Russian boy, who teaches Theo all the wrong ways to both soothe and manipulate pain. He's a millennial Artful Dodger. Their friendship is the heart of the book, even if that's not what Tartt intended. Boris is an ingenious accomplishment, one of the strongest aspects of the book, and certainly one Dickens would have raised a shot glass of vodka for. It's only because the first chunk of a fairly long novel is so strong, so deeply felt, that the second half lags (a tad) as Theo grows up under the tutelage of an overly kind antiques dealer in Greenwich Village named Hobie, and falls in love with Hobie's dead business partner's daughter (the man also died in the blast, stringing fate together like a runaway kite). Here, Theo falls back into the clutches of the Barbours as he comes to terms with the demons of the past (the stolen painting) and the demons of the present (his addictions) as he tries to carve out some semblance of a livable future for himself. The climax is set in Amsterdam and the events resemble the last fifteen minutes of a Guy Ritchie film. Some may say Tartt ran out of ideas, and the novel devolves into unbelievable circumstances and stream-of-consciousness rumination, but I loved this book so much, I think it all fits together perfectly, and I began to appreciate the book's flaws just as much as its strengths. This is, without question, a five-star novel and a book that deserves to be read and studied alongside other edgy coming-of-age classics like The Catcher In The Rye, Huck Finn, Oliver Twist, and Lord of the Flies. On a side note, David Gilbert's recent, under appreciated novel And Sons: A Novel works as a fantastic rejoinder to this one, like a troubled step sibling. It covers familiar territory in a very different way, but ultimately can't touch Tartt. No other recent novel, even recent ones I liked very much (Marisha Pessl's Nightfilm, for instance) can touch The Goldfinch. It is interesting to me that the best writers I've read of late (Tartt, Lorrie Moore, Gillian Flynn, Sarah Waters, Roxana Robinson) and the worst (Karen Russell, Monica Ali) all happen to be women. The men (Updike, Roth, Fitzgerald, Hemingway) who once dominated the game are sliding into the middle-of-the-road like they're afraid to take the same risks. Good for Tartt, et al. And good for the South, which continues to produce this country's most gloried writers like some kind of magic kingdom. What's going on down there? I couldn't stop thinking about The Goldfinch while I was reading it, and I can't stop thinking about it now. I've become Theo, seeing beauty and madness in a single work of art.

I read the ebook version of The Goldfinch and I can imagine that the print version is heavy! That was a big book! I think I can mention the plot here without giving away any spoilers; tween boy Theo loses his Mother in a terrorist bombing at an art gallery and in the process, gains a priceless painting. His life is then completely changed by this event. The two things in this book that I love the most are the rich characters and the imagery. Sometimes when I read a book I get so involved in it that I take on the moods of the characters, and that was the case with me regarding Theo. His mental chaos and depression was so clearly drawn that I had to take a break from reading now and again and do some happy things to shake off the bad mood. And then we have Boris, who is in his own words "a bit of this a bit of that", not good, not evil, just very pure and earnest even when he is doing the worst things. My visual on Theo's appearance was a big vague but Boris, you can see him, you can even SMELL him, he is so visually rich. The relationship between Theo and Boris is the greatest "bromance" that I have ever read between two male characters without veering into homosexuality (you may argue with me on that, but I agree with Boris that some teenage indescretions are just a passing phase). The women in this book are the only characters who are more two dimensional, but I believe that was intentional as a representation of how Theo's relationships with women are hopelessly at arms length due to losing his mother at such a formative time in his life (they are either on a pedestal or drugged up floozies, no middle ground). I found it interesting that I did not notice until the end that the author is a woman; I had assumed that I was reading a male voice. I think it takes quite a bit of restraint for a flesh and blood woman to write a character of her own gender as flat and actually thats pretty brilliant. But the men... I mean even the dog (who's extended life span was a bit of artistic license in my opinion) had a rich personality! The tragedy in Theo's life made me cry for him, especially when he asks how he came to be a boy on his own with no one to love him. And then we have the imagery and prose. Wow. It was stunning. It took me longer than usual to read this book because at so many points I had to stop and re-read passages because they were so beautiful. There were passages in there that I believe probably took days/weeks to write because they are so technically perfect. It amazes me that a person can be walking around with this kind of imagery in their brain and then it becomes this book. Incredible. You can approach this book from two points of view. For pure entertainment value, the characters as I mentioned are fantastic, the story is tragic and well written and very visual. I believe someone will make a movie of this book, and thats too bad because I already know that it can't be done properly without alot of background narration that would become annoying. And casting Boris acurately, well, good luck with that! The suspense that Theo experiences making it his life's work to hide a painting is very good. The wacky Dan Brown-ish ending with the criminal underworld in Amsterdam was very good too. The plot has one lagging point, when Theo goes through his young adult drug phase in New York. I found myself getting impatient with this part, but in hindsight I think even the lag was intentional, as you need to feel the aimless fog that Theo was in at that point in his life. I agree with the review from Fan that there are some major errors regarding the timeline and existing technology, and for that reason and the lag I removed one star. I did notice a few little plot lines that veered off into nowhere towards the end (what happened to the coat?), and honestly if I was writing this book, I would do it too because I would just be tired! its huge! The other way to approach it is to view it as an author's craft. And I think from a craft point of view, The Goldfinch earns it's applause as a modern classic. It was so, so well done. I would love to know more about how it was written, how long it took, and the research process. Stunning prose aside, there is a ton of factual knowledge in this book that would have taken years to research, such as foreign languages, furniture making, art history, and on and on. As others have mentioned, this book ends with what is basically a manifesto about mortality, fate, morality and art that almost feels like it is separate from the book. It was a great way to end the book because it brings Theo's life struggle full circle and makes you think about the bigger picture. In that moment I realized that Theo and Boris are really representative of two different approachs to managing one's own mortality. I could go on, but I'll just say that you could create a university class around this book and write a really great thesis yourself! So yes, read it, carve out some time, find yourself some happy activities between book segments :-) and be patient. You will love it.

How quickly can the circumstances of one’s life alter? In less than a heartbeat it would seem – or in the brief seconds in which a bomb blast can occur. In her Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, ‘The Goldfinch,’ Donna Tartt examines how transitory are the conditions that govern our lives. Thirteen-year old Theo Decker and his beloved mother seek temporary shelter in New York's Metropolitan Museum during a rainstorm. While inside, a bomb goes off, and Theo’s mother dies in the wreckage. Theo, dazed and possibly suffering from a concussion, lingers at the side of a dying man he’d spotted moments before the blast. The man, Welty, hands Theo an heirloom – a ring – that will ultimately lead Theo to the kindly ‘Hobie.' In his death throes, Welty gestures frantically toward a painting, suggesting to the boy that he wishes him to take it - to save it, one supposes, from being destroyed in the wreckage. The painting is Carel Fabritius’s famous work, ‘The Goldfinch.’ The blast in the museum, the chance meeting of a boy and a dying man, and a 'stolen' masterpiece are the points from which all future events in Theo’s life will stem. Orphaned, grieving, plagued by survivor’s guilt, Theo goes to live with the family of school friend, Andy Barbour. The Barbours, a wealthy, socially prominent family, are peculiar and oddly broken in some ways. Still, the coolly elegant Mrs. Barbour and her emotionally ill husband give Theo a home of sorts in New York’s elegant Upper West Side, but it proves to be temporary. Soon, Theo’s deadbeat dad and his companion, the flashy Xandra, show up to take Theo back home with them for purposes that turn out to be less than honorable. Home is Las Vegas. While in Vegas, Theo is on his own. His father’s neglect of his son is stunningly depicted, and Theo, making friends with a cagey Russian boy named Boris, spirals downward into alcoholism and drug addiction. Eventually, Theo ends up back in New York, this time living with James Hobart, a furniture restorer and the friend and partner of Welty, the dying man Theo had comforted in the museum. Also staying with Hobart from time to time, is Welty’s granddaughter, Pippa, the unattainable redhead who continues to captivate Theo. Now in his twenties, Theo renews his friendship with the Barbours, and begins a shady career of selling restorations as antiques to would-be collectors who have more money than knowledge about what they're buying. This eventually comes back to haunt him – as does the painting he took from the Museum so many years ago, and which, throughout the book, continues to serve as a catalyst for many of the events in Theo’s life. Improbably, Theo meets up again with Boris in New York, learns that Boris took the painting from him without his knowledge, and that The Goldfinch is probably in Amsterdam, in the possession of criminals. The remainder of the book details Theo’s attempt to regain the painting with Boris’s help. Tartt's book has been called Dickensian in its scope, and indeed there are elements that will be familiar to readers of Dickens: the orphaned boy (Theo), the Artful Dodger (Boris), the disparity in economic conditions for the poor and rich, and there is even a hint of Miss Havisham in the elderly Mrs. Barbour. I do read Dickens, and on one key point I find Tartt upends the Dickensian comparison: one would be hard-pressed to find in his works the nihilism that Tartt's book espouses. At the heart of Charles Dickens' stories and novels one can always find goodness in the muck, and hope hiding amidst the cesspools of human greed. Tartt looks at life through Theo's eyes and finds nothing but despair. There is much to like and admire about The Goldfinch. I like a lengthy book (and make no mistake – this is a very lengthy book, almost 800 pages). I eagerly followed Theo’s journey through most of them. Tartt stirringly relates the events that occurred immediately following the blast at the museum - you feel the devastation and confusion, the sense of isolation, the fear. She convincingly depicts a child's grief at the loss of the one parent he could depend upon, the fears he experiences at being caught up in the nightmare of Social Services agencies, and his slow but sure drift toward lawlessness and addiction. And then there were the descriptions of gentle, graceful moments, captured no less vividly than the scenes of horror earlier in the book. She describes the subtle shadings of light gliding across aged patinas and the well-oiled grain of furniture in Hobie’s ‘hospital’ for damaged antiques, the prisms of color filtering through skylights, the delicacy of an artist’s brushstrokes on a canvas. I loved these peaceful descriptions. I also admired the compelling imagery of the desert surrounding the bright lights of Las Vegas. She eerily interpreted Theo's neighborhood as a vast and scorching ghost town, filled with uninhabited houses in the middle of nowhere. Every day in the desert was the same - mind numbing, soul-destroying. The perfect place to self-destruct. And self-destruct is what Theo did. My favorite parts of the book dealt with Theo working alongside Hobie, watching him meticulously mend damaged pieces of fine old furniture, losing himself in the process of trying to make the ruins whole again. How apt that Theo would find some measure of peace in Hobie’s workshop since he, too, was in need of mending. But like the antiques that Hobie sought to restore, Theo would never be entirely whole again. Nor would he be authentic, never again ‘the real deal’ – too much has happened to him. He is the walking wounded. If you’re looking for redemption, you won’t find it in Theo’s journey, which recounts his story from age thirteen to his mid-twenties. With his mother’s death and the ‘theft’ of the painting, his is a downward spiral that never seems to quite reach rock bottom. At book's end, this reader wondered if Theo would one day take his life. Filled with ennui and lack of purpose, still addicted to prescription drugs, one suspects Theo will try again to leave the world behind, in spite of all his high-flown philosophizing at the end of the story. Like his beloved Goldfinch, eternally chained to its perch, Theo is chained to circumstances that were set in motion on that tragic day in the museum. He will forever be defined by those events. If you’re looking for an uplifting story, this is not it. From start to finish, the story is an unhappy one. And yet, I enjoyed it. I never lost interest in Theo's story or his journey, even in the story's most nihilistic moments. My reservations about the novel stem entirely from its ending in which Tartt seems to abandon story-telling and instead wraps the conclusion of the book into some sort of touchy-feely fatalism that never quite rings true. Theo's philosophical rhapsodizing seems somehow false, forced. It is self-indulgent and lacking clarity. It is also boring. Even so, I recommend The Goldfinch – and happily give it 5 stars. Tartt has written a book grand in scope, vivid in imagery, thoughtful, and affecting. If it is not perfect, few things are. It is one of the best books I’ve read in some time, and I won't soon forget Theo's sad odyssey.

Poor Donna Tartt. It must be a curse when your first novel is such an undeniable masterpiece as "The Secret History." In a way, that brilliant debut novel has rendered Donna Tartt just as tethered and flightless as the poor trapped bird in the painting which is the centerpiece of her third book. "The Goldfinch" displays the agony of an author attempting to recapture the lightning in a bottle that she once caught, perhaps knowing herself that she is doomed to never experience that electricity again. It is oddly prescient and ironic that the last words spoken by Richard Papen in the introduction of "The Secret History" are: "This is the only story I have to tell." Was Donna Tartt trying to tell us something? There is no argument that the prose in "The Goldfinch" is exquisitely rendered, (although on occasion, a bit sophomoric.) Once again, the characters are vivid, complex, and intriguing. But while "The Secret History" proceeds in a seamless manner, gently and slowly opening to reveal a nearly perfect blossom, "The Goldfinch" is like a promising bud that never really blooms. It is a novel laden with an unaccountable "Sturm und Drang." It's a book so plot-driven that it almost seems like Ms. Tartt exhausted even herself in attempting to tie together the loose ends in the last quarter of this plodding novel. Simply put--the ending is not believable. In more than one instance, the plot violates one of the most basic tenets of good fiction: The suspension of disbelief. Most authors can be excused to employ one or two "Deus ex Machinas" to escape from painting themselves into a literary corner. But to use this device over and over again? This would be derided as bush-league writing from publishers if they were considering an author's first novel. But sadly, even after eleven years, this is precisely the device Ms. Tartt employs and relies upon for the ending of her book, almost as if she was pulling an all-nighter on a writing assignment that needed to be handed in first thing in the morning. I cannot give examples of the plot contortions, as numerous as they are, without the risk of spoiling the story. But I can say that you will recognize them when you read them. At times I found myself mesmerized, only to be jarred back to reality, akin to being awakened from a dream, the spell broken, thinking..."What?" And rather than allowing the reader to absorb and reach his or her own conclusions, Ms. Tartt spends pages and time defining what can best be described as "Existentialism 101." "Bad things happen to good people...but we must look at the middle ground...enjoy the rainbows and beauty along the way, even if the endpoint of it all is death...but there is danger in beauty." Really Donna? Did I just spend 800 pages to learn what Friedrich Nietzsche explains in the first four paragraphs of "Beyond Good and Evil?" Ms. Tartt does not seem to be maturing as a writer. Her characters, (and perhaps herself as well,) are caught in a permanent state of adolescence. They don't seem to grow as much as they devolve. Again, the use of opiates and college-age high-jinx take center stage in this novel, page after page after page. No new ground is broken here. Much like the character Hobie, who takes bits and pieces of furniture to fake a "real" Chippendale, Donna Tartt assembles scraps of prose to try to construct a novel. Like Hobie's fakes, where the grain and patina don't quite match the real thing, neither does "The Goldfinch" ever elicit the beauty of an enduring work of art. It's striking how quickly and with such skill that a writer like Stephen King can churn these kinds of books out. (Granted, he did give this book a glowing review.) But this shouldn't have taken eleven years! Mr. King would have been on his ninth novel in the same amount of time, with work as polished and well-constructed as most of his novels undeniably are, whether one is a fan or not. I admit feeling like a traitor and a turncoat, because Donna Tartt has found a permanent place in my heart. She is an incredible genius, a power-packed intellect, a firecracker of the first order, living in the petite persona of a sweet and mysterious girl from Mississippi. But even her recent interviews have revealed a striking change. She is taking herself VERY seriously now. Unfortunately, "The Goldfinch" is not the book that should have precipitated this change. It is most certainly not "The Book of the Year." And sadly enough, there is no one more heartbroken about it than I.

I am so happy to have discovered Donna Tartt, and specially, THE GOLDFINCH. I adored this book. The writing is a masterpiece. The way the author magically blends ideas into words with no cliché at all, is pure beauty. I feel as if I were just discovering the different sensations that words can create. I loved it not because of the story but because of the writing. I am not saying that the story was not interesting. However, the beauty of the ideas, the development of the characters, very specially THEO, BORIS and PIPPA (loved HOBBIE but I feel he was like a pillar, so maybe the only one which we do not see evolving, and that because he had already reached this calm state). I truly believe that ANY STORY has a limit, humanity, individuals, have gone through a limited number of stories sort of. However, the BLENDING of IDEAS, of these mere stories INTO WRITING IS JUST INFINITE. And that is how the same story or stories can be told in so many ways. But only a true genius is capable of going out of himself or herself and view things in such a unique way as THE GOLDFINCH depicts.

It has a amazing story with engaging character and auther had made it long but it makes me keep going till end.

Amazing book, loved it

This book enticed me in. Stunningly beautiful prose, the way things are written set the scene both visually and emotionally. The story was a curious one, guarding a painting is almost not the focus at all, but everything that happens around it. I really was touched and cried at many parts, invested as I was in the characters loves and losses. Makes sense as you get to know them so deeply, you feel as if you truly met them at sometime or other. I put this book down stunned, feeling like a simpleton and wishing more than anything I could write half as well as Tartt, just to express how wonderful the book truly is. If you're a worldly curious person interested in the inner dreams and motivations of people unknown, this is for you. If you need to be led to the point immediately, you should probably pass, as this takes you the long way round, but for me it's well worth taking.

I love this book, I have read it before years ago and wanted to buy it again since I fell in love with it. The movie is terrible and lacks so much of the depth and character development of the book, you really get swept into Theo's world in the book, so don't be put off if you saw the movie.