Goldfinch by Donna Tartt

Have you ever dreaded writing a review? Well, I dreaded writing this one. I'm also still not sure I gave this the right rating. In some ways, I was absolutely absorbed with The Goldfinch, but there were problems that I couldn't ignore.

I am also biased toward Tartt, because The Secret History is one of my favorite books of all time. So yes, I went into this thinking that I would have another all time favorite book to add to my shelf. 

But this book is more complicated. It follows Theo, a New Yorker tween whose life is shattered in one senseless, violent moment. The stability of his life is swept away, and Theo drifts from one place to the next - first to a childhood friend's home, where the family is experiencing their own intense upheavals, and then to exotic Las Vegas with his deadbeat father and his new girlfriend. There is a classic Dickensian theme running through the novel as Theo tries to find himself, lives with the decisions (good and bad) he has made, and struggles not to get lost in a mountain of anxiety, PTSD, and later drug addiction.

Theo and notably Boris, are strong, interesting characters, and most of the other people they meet are also complicated and well rendered. I loved Hobie most of all, but the whole Barbour family were also great character studies. I also loved the theme of chance and fate, beauty and consequences - it was all very interesting and thought-provoking. Is this one hell of a book? Yes, it is. Should it be championed as a modern classic? Probably. 

But the ending!!! I like concrete endings, and this one is more dreamy and philosophical than anything else. I guess there is a point to having it this way, and there are dreamy passages throughout the book (especially Theo's few minutes spent with Welty in the museum). But it seemed like a bit fluffy compared to the deep gravity of the rest of this book.

The other thing I struggled with was the portrayal of certain races within the book. The first few times, I told myself that I was being overly sensitive, but it kept happening again and again, so I must mention it. Every single instance of an Asian character, whether a fleeting one or even one off the page, like Andy's fiance, is a caricature. Over time, it was amazingly hard to ignore. It's one thing for Boris, with his hard edges, to call someone "China Boy" repeatedly; it's another for the narrator to characterize tourists and folks in Chinatown in descriptions better suited for literature written before the 1960's. There is also a troubling portrayal of an African-American bus driver during Theo's exodus from Las Vegas. All of these instances made me stop and reexamine the novel, because it gave it a very antiquated feel. What time period are we supposed to be in? But Theo's journey starts during a time period where there are cell phones and video games, so I can't justify why these caricatures are there. They could have been easily removed. 

Have you read this book? What did you think?