Genre: Book
Title: The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt
Venue: Book Club
Event Date: Finished reading 9/02/14
Matthew Pearl does something well: takes a work of art and
creates an adventure or a context and biography around it. I think this is
where Tartt was trying to go. The first problems are that The Goldfinch isn’t a
famous painting and Fabritius isn’t a widely known painter. Already, the odds
are against having a ready-made emotive tie with the premise. It’s too bad
because it is a charming painting, representative of its time and genre and -
I’ll concede – even a bit emotive once you realize the bird is tethered and
there’s an inner struggle to enjoy the painting while recognizing that these
are not ideal bird conditions. If it was meant to be a metaphor, it is a bit
too broad.
I’ll try to steer clear of spoilers and give some general reflection. The plot centers on Theo, an adolescent boy who, on a visit to the Metropolitan Museum in New York with his mother, is caught in a terrorist bombing attack. The events during the bombing and death of his mother are the catapult that sends him off to live with his father and to attempt to survive the trauma of such an experience. The premise is an interesting one, and the plot was relatively simple. I was entertained, not bored, and didn’t find it tedious to get through the reading. Still, it felt as though I remained on the superficial level of only acquaintance instead of breaking into and getting to know the characters and what made them tick. I found myself relatively un-invested and, sadly, even wishing some of the characters would be written off.
I’m realizing that it’s hard to analyze the characters without risking spoilers. So, I’ll say this: Over all, I found it repeatedly difficult to understand the characters’ motivations. More often than not, I questioned their actions, unable to see what it was about their perspectives or experiences that drove them to this action or that choice. I have to guess that this speaks to underdeveloped character writing but, as a whole, I think it’s more that the characters felt “plugged in” like there was a plot that needed to be respected and the characters had to “make it work.” I felt that Tartt was more invested in her plot than in allowing the characters to develop and lead the way. I say this because I find it difficult to see a character arc for any of them. In a time span of about 10 years, there doesn't seem to be much self-reflection or growth.
Show-don’t-tell is the first rule of Creative Writing 101 in any classroom in any school, anywhere. The internal debates and ruminations that a reader has should be prompted by the analytical approach in the writing. What would I do if I were Theo? Or his father? Or any of the other characters? The predicaments and dilemmas that a character finds himself in are meant to arouse our own morality and character. Agree, disagree, but know yourself. Let these winding roads define yet another fraction of you. Struggle with the choices that the character made because you want to empathize yet his actions are at the edge of what you feel to be right or good. Sympathizing or – better yet – empathizing is the goal of a well written character. How many of us wanted Dexter to get away with it? Or Walter White from Breaking Bad? Theirs are not actions that we condone as a society, but properly developed and carefully executed, we gradually and repeatedly shifted our tolerance so that we continued to become personally invested in the outcome of each challenge. Tartt’s characters don’t convince me in their choices. I feel very much on the outside looking in and, more often than not, disagreeing with their moves or just perplexed by them.
Unfortunately, the story wraps up with a series of thinly veiled “essays,” plugged in rather sloppily. Not only did they feel forced, like Tartt was realizing that she was wrapping up and wasn’t sure she’d gotten her message across, but they were also unwelcomingly spoon-fed. One character who throughout the story had maintained a one-dimensional, caricature-like simplicity with little self-reflection suddenly waxes poetic about relative morality and the gray areas versus black and white. It felt like a speech. Worse was Theo’s last few pages of reflection on art and its connection to humanity. There was something terribly scholastic about his points and positions. Like an idealistic poet torn between studying Philosophy and Art History trying to make an emotive speech about being interconnected by time.
Maybe I’m a pragmatist. I love art. I’m an Art Historian by training only, but with in-depth knowledge of art, I certainly have my perspectives on what its place is or could/should/has been in our lives. These are not simple debates. They can’t be poured out and force-fed. Throughout the story, I felt that the painting in question was only an object; the cause of some problems now and then, but not a terribly big part of the lead character’s (or any other character’s) presence. The last minute shift to delve into the complexities of art as a philosophical human binder aggravated me. I’d been asked to participate so little up until the last few pages. It was too late.
I’ll try to steer clear of spoilers and give some general reflection. The plot centers on Theo, an adolescent boy who, on a visit to the Metropolitan Museum in New York with his mother, is caught in a terrorist bombing attack. The events during the bombing and death of his mother are the catapult that sends him off to live with his father and to attempt to survive the trauma of such an experience. The premise is an interesting one, and the plot was relatively simple. I was entertained, not bored, and didn’t find it tedious to get through the reading. Still, it felt as though I remained on the superficial level of only acquaintance instead of breaking into and getting to know the characters and what made them tick. I found myself relatively un-invested and, sadly, even wishing some of the characters would be written off.
I’m realizing that it’s hard to analyze the characters without risking spoilers. So, I’ll say this: Over all, I found it repeatedly difficult to understand the characters’ motivations. More often than not, I questioned their actions, unable to see what it was about their perspectives or experiences that drove them to this action or that choice. I have to guess that this speaks to underdeveloped character writing but, as a whole, I think it’s more that the characters felt “plugged in” like there was a plot that needed to be respected and the characters had to “make it work.” I felt that Tartt was more invested in her plot than in allowing the characters to develop and lead the way. I say this because I find it difficult to see a character arc for any of them. In a time span of about 10 years, there doesn't seem to be much self-reflection or growth.
Show-don’t-tell is the first rule of Creative Writing 101 in any classroom in any school, anywhere. The internal debates and ruminations that a reader has should be prompted by the analytical approach in the writing. What would I do if I were Theo? Or his father? Or any of the other characters? The predicaments and dilemmas that a character finds himself in are meant to arouse our own morality and character. Agree, disagree, but know yourself. Let these winding roads define yet another fraction of you. Struggle with the choices that the character made because you want to empathize yet his actions are at the edge of what you feel to be right or good. Sympathizing or – better yet – empathizing is the goal of a well written character. How many of us wanted Dexter to get away with it? Or Walter White from Breaking Bad? Theirs are not actions that we condone as a society, but properly developed and carefully executed, we gradually and repeatedly shifted our tolerance so that we continued to become personally invested in the outcome of each challenge. Tartt’s characters don’t convince me in their choices. I feel very much on the outside looking in and, more often than not, disagreeing with their moves or just perplexed by them.
Unfortunately, the story wraps up with a series of thinly veiled “essays,” plugged in rather sloppily. Not only did they feel forced, like Tartt was realizing that she was wrapping up and wasn’t sure she’d gotten her message across, but they were also unwelcomingly spoon-fed. One character who throughout the story had maintained a one-dimensional, caricature-like simplicity with little self-reflection suddenly waxes poetic about relative morality and the gray areas versus black and white. It felt like a speech. Worse was Theo’s last few pages of reflection on art and its connection to humanity. There was something terribly scholastic about his points and positions. Like an idealistic poet torn between studying Philosophy and Art History trying to make an emotive speech about being interconnected by time.
Maybe I’m a pragmatist. I love art. I’m an Art Historian by training only, but with in-depth knowledge of art, I certainly have my perspectives on what its place is or could/should/has been in our lives. These are not simple debates. They can’t be poured out and force-fed. Throughout the story, I felt that the painting in question was only an object; the cause of some problems now and then, but not a terribly big part of the lead character’s (or any other character’s) presence. The last minute shift to delve into the complexities of art as a philosophical human binder aggravated me. I’d been asked to participate so little up until the last few pages. It was too late.
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