“[…] a thin icy snow had begun falling on the field. The painting, the magic and aliveness of it, was like that odd airy moment of the snow falling, greenish light and flakes whirling around in the cameras, where you no longer cared about the game, who won or lost, but just wanted to drink in that speechless windswept moment. When I looked at the painting I felt the same convergence on a single point: a flickering sun-struck instant that existed now and forever. Only occasionally did I notice the chain on the finch’s ankle, or think what a cruel life for a little living creature – fluttering briefly, forced always to land in the same hopeless place.”
The Goldfinch – Donna Tartt
If there is one book on my shelf that I cannot help myself coming back to now and again, it’s Donna Tartt’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, The Goldfinch.
There almost seems to be no limit to the amount of times I can pick this book up, to marvel at such a masterful tapestry stitched in threads pulled directly from the heart-strings of a deeply conscientious Author. It is a truly beautiful coming of age story in which we see the world through the eyes of Theodore Decker, a thirteen year old boy, propelled into a chaotic journey into adulthood. Haunted by the tragedy of loss at a young age, he grapples with the complexities of growing up in a world fragmented by grief, survivors guilt, trauma obsession and fear. Though surrounded by allies, Theo’s loneliness, shattered identity and fear of not belonging ebbs out from every page.
Having also recently read her first novel The Secret History – it is evident to me that Donna Tartt triumphs in her ability to create deeply nuanced characters.
Boris – Theo’s Eastern European high school friend – is particularly well written, with a well fleshed out background and many an idiosyncratic mannerism and way of speech. In essence he is the yin to Theo’s yang; reckless, enigmatic, world-wise, influential, fearless and frank. Although they appear at first to be opposites, both share in their experiences of grief and loss, and their emergence into the tumult of adolescence.
Hobie (James Hobart)- an older gentleman and antique furniture enthusiast – is rendered so authentically on the page that you can easily imagine you’ve met him in actual life. Quirky, wild haired, haggard faced, kind, fatherly figure, always estimating the best in people, sensible, wise and welcoming. He is a character reminiscent of a favourite uncle or professor: a guide, a mentor, a moral counsellor.
The Barbour’s too – a family who takes Theo in as one of their own – are drawn in fine detail throughout the narrative, as well as Pippa, a girl he loves deeply and Mr Decker, Theo’s illusive and wily rouge of a father. Even his mother – so briefly present in the plot – is described in such a way that her spirit stays with the reader throughout the book, as much as with the protagonist.
“Everything came alive in her company; she cast a charmed theatrical light about her so that to see anything through her eyes was to see it in brighter colors […]”
Another thing that really stands out about Donna Tartt’s writing is the way in which she paints all of her characters with all their merits and shortcomings on display. Theo begins the novel admitting that he is a flawed young man and has been from around the time of his parents separation – growing up to be the root cause of many of his own problems and becoming his own worst enemy. The way in which Tartt weaves emotion into the narrative however, elicits great empathy from the reader, allowing us to see past the wrongs of each character and instead find the heart of them – the good as well as the bad. Theo Decker is no Holden Caulfield in this story, he wears his heart on his sleeves and most of his criticisms are introspective. Essentially he is not wrought as a character full of arrogant judgment and anger that the world he finds himself thrown into; he is more a sensitive soul, a young man on a journey seeking love, understanding and freedom from suffering.
The titular painting, The Goldfinch, is the central thread that runs through the book. A nerve which is touched on over and over again, reminding the reader of Theo’s struggles with devastating loss of his mother.
“Things would have turned out better is she had lived. As it was, she died when I was a kid; a though everything that’s happened to me since is thoroughly my own fault, still when I lost her I lost sight of any landmark that might have led me someplace happier […]”
Throughout the book, Theo is obsessed with the painting, The Goldfinch by Carel Fabritius. It was one of his mother’s favourite paintings; a beautiful, mysterious but sad work of art. The bird forever chained to its station – like Theo himself, doomed to always return to the trauma of losing his mother. The bird a living being and yet long gone – like Theo’s mother and his own sense of self-identity, normalcy and belonging. The bird, appearing to be dignified and yet completely helpless – like Theo in his struggle to navigate life in his world turned upside down.
Throughout the book, Theo is obsessed with the painting, The Goldfinch by Carel Fabritius. It was one of his mother’s favourite paintings; a beautiful, mysterious but sad work of art. The bird forever chained to its station – like Theo himself, doomed to always return to the trauma of losing his mother., The bird a living being and yet long gone – like Theo’s mother and his own sense of self-identity, normalcy and belonging. The bird, appearing to be dignified and yet completely helpless – like Theo in his struggle to navigate life in his world turned upside down.
Although the novel does not contend with strong religious themes, Donna Tartt (being a converted catholic herself), weaves subtle references to spirality and Catholism: sin, redemption, and morality which provide a backdrop to Theo’s internal struggles. The deeply evocative descriptions of the painting – as in the opening quote of this post – conjure to mind a sense of mystical importance. Its existence provided both pleasure and pain to Theo – an anchor point to a happier past but also a moral reminder of the guilt and suffering he experiences.
The painting serves not only as a plot device – a window into the state of mind of the protagonist – but evokes a sense of metaphor for beauty found in the face of suffering. It also shines a light on the Author’s deep appreciation for art which is also evident in the way she paints scenes with her prose. Examples of this and her subtle allusions to spirituality can be found in this paragraph about Theo’s mother in the opening chapter:
” – I remember a few weeks before she died, eating a late supper with her in an Italian restaurant down in the Village, and how she grasped my sleeve at the sudden, almost painful loveliness of a birthday cake with lit candles being carried in procession from the kitchen, faint circle of light wavering in across the dark ceiling and the the cake set down to blaze amidst the family, beatifying an old lady’s face, smiles all round, waiters stepping away with their hands behind their backs – just an ordinary birthday dinner you might see anywhere in an inexpensive downtown restaurant, and I’m sure I wouldn’t even remember it had she not died so soon after, but I thought about it again and again after her death and indeed I’ll probably think about it all my life […]”
This scene, like the painting, is a poignant representation of how art, and beauty can transcend pain, suffering and the ravages of time. Though the bird and the artist are both long dead, the meaning and purpose of the image lost to obscurity, the painting still exists, just as – in the telling of his story – Theo’s love, longing and appreciation for his lost mother. Just in the way the birthday cake beatifies the old lady in the scene painted above, the bird represents the saintliness Theo saw in his mother. The Goldfinch a reminder to us all of the enduring power of art and storytelling.
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