About 3 years ago now, I thought I was most certainly done with a certain Secret History. Little did I realise, and much did I mistake what I had lived through and read every detail of would haunt me across a span of 3 or so years. This is one of those moments where i failed to recognise how good something was all the while i was experiencing it. Life went on, and i drifted further and further away from where I was when I wrote the review (above). Heck, moderately insignificant moments that were in the book, such as Bunnys ripped liner on his jacket, or what cocktails they were having, and i swear, even down to the SMELL of the old house they would study in, ALL of these details are more crisp in my mind to-day than that review I left.
This experience is not new to me, my opinions and thoughts on topical novels often does really change like tides with the moon, and so leaving an indelible imprint of the highs and lows, repeating, softly, under a thick black sky of my unconscious mind.
A fine example of this other than here, is the music of massive attack or radiohead, both took their time implanted in my head. Their crime was like a sonic equivalent of the Secret History’s fatal mistake, subtlety and room to breathe. May I have an apology for not pleasing every soul with ADHD, especially me, please? Of course the monotony, the times alone, the intricate details of specific items, as well as the big picture…That’s what stayed with me. The panoramic view of this wasteland of potentials, love, (dare i say it) violence and death, (of course), this book is a generous offering toward the reader. Honestly, if you’re not really in the frame of mind, but find yourself reading it from start to finish anyway? It’s work is done, trust me, its claws are within you and it is a matter of time only, to where you’ve seen one empty tablet jar or cigarette too many to make your adventure through Julian’s greek class seem like the most illustrious place to plough away the unfettered hours, learning vicariously what it is like to come so close to perfection, only to have it stolen by fate’s cruel hand.
I wonder how it left my grasp at that initial reading, i really do, there was so much close to home, and perhaps that was that! Perhaps the tone, events, mood and settings were so preciously dear to me and my own state of affairs, the crown court in my head overruled attempts to be slick and fit in. Of course i could not help but relate to, the protagonist, yes, and this book, The Secret History, will introduce you to people that will claim squatters rights in the corners of your mind; where you would have put all those books you swore to yourself you’d read ’em. Not to worry at all, these ghosts have come to pay their respects at your unfulfilled fantasies of being a living-grade basket case of art, your parents’ money, greek philosophy, and severe melancholia.
I feel that it’s only fair to make a shoutout to the kids’ these days’ hashtag-way-of-life hashtag #darkacademia – i did not learn about this til the youtube algorythm decided i needed to know. It took one savvy youtube sleuth to boil this (I dont know what you’d call it) Trend? Microtrend? #aesthetic? mood? movement??? Whatever it was, the bloke on the video informed me, i was basically putting my lips around what he was saying as he said it, that, this movement owes its existence and propogation toward a certain little novel. Aye, holy smokes, its now it’s own bible.
Not because of this, but in spite of this, I re-review this book to be a 9/10 !! For real, the intellectual snobbery deep-shallow organised “think” related to this hashtag or culture is irrelevant. People of fine taste regarless of how broad the puddle is, will find a fair, intelectual haven of sorts, tucked somewhere in these pages.
And remember, it took SEVEN years to write. Yeah, seven. I haven’t the least bit of knowledge on why or how, but that’s the case anyway, and we shall owe a bit of time then again, or reasons this book will stay in your head, with the ash, the dubious pills, the mont blanc ink, the flowers and the empty cups of tea, yeah, now you’ll be trapped in this pseudo-paradise for as long as “what the hell was the author writing in this” lasts.
Honestly, this book: YOU will know already, this one works as a cultural curiosity you’ll read within a week and nver bat an eye to, OR a manifesto for a strange-sordid blank style of religion: overworking.
SPOILER!! (Sorta) – None of them can actually do anything except speak in greek, spend their parents money, and well, kill one-another. Thats just how the book rolls
Anyways, i really did put a bit of effort into this review, and I appreciate the feedback, (especially hostile comments from those who disagree with me) Thanks and goodbye,
Rick (the humble rockdove)
The Humble Rock Dove 