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.
Read in August 2014.
I bought The Goldfinch in August 2014 while waiting for my train at the Gare de l’Est. A lot of people were talking about it on both Goodreads & Tumblr and I was quite intrigued as I had never read a book by Tartt before; the number of pages didn’t scare me since I like big books (and I cannot lie). I thought that perhaps I could quite enjoy it since the plot appealed to me. I was in for a treat, it surpassed all of my expectations.
Tartt’s writing was refreshing and amazing, I was hooked after a couple of pages and honestly couldn’t put it down. It’s like every time I was having one second of free time, I was magnetized and had to take the book in my hand.
I was fascinated by how nuanced and flawed all the characters were.
It made them feel as real as my real friends, therefore, I really felt like I was IN the book, I think one of the reasons why I felt this way was also because Tartt knows how to describe objects, room, moods and atmospheres.
However, the Las Vegas part felt really long and bored me a little, hopefully it ended. I think that part needed a little bit of editing.
Overall, I really enjoyed discovering NYC through Tarrt’s words and Theo’s eyes, I dreamt, cried and loved. Such a great story!
Favourite character : Theo. Definitely.
Favourite quote : “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.”