There are a handful of books that I enjoyed so much when I first read them, that they have taken a reverent place in my reading life. And while I want to experience that particular reading pleasure again, re-reads can be like returning to the ‘perfect’ holiday spot – somehow it’s not quite what you remembered, despite the main ingredients being the same.

The Secret History by Donna Tartt is one such book. I first read it when it was released in 1992. Like the characters, I was at university, wholly absorbed in campus life and a circle of friends who were new, but immediately close. I recall being engrossed in the story, but not much of the detail other than the fact that one of the students was murdered, stayed with me.

Religious slurs, temper tantrums, insults, coercion, debt: all petty things, really, irritants – too minor, it would seem, to move five reasonable people to murder. But, if I dare say it, it wasn’t until I helped to kill a man that I realized how elusive and complex an act of murder can actually be, and not necessarily attributable to one dramatic move.

I had flirted with a re-read a number of times, and was finally prompted to do so as a result of the Once Upon a Time at Bennington College podcast. And when I discovered that Tartt herself is the narrator of the audio version, there was no question that I would revisit Secret History. I toggled between listening and reading – it was every bit as engrossing as it was in 1992.

There’s nothing left to say in terms of reviewing this book, but what struck me was how little Tartt’s style has changed – why would you change when your descriptions are so perfectly crafted and evocative, that they could be classed as flawless?

The dazzle of this fictive childhood – full of swimming pools and orange groves and dissolute, charming show-biz parents – has all but eclipsed the drab original. In fact, when I think about my real childhood I am unable to recall much about it at all except a sad jumble of objects: the sneakers I wore year-round; coloring books and comics from the supermarket; little of interest, less of beauty.

My re-read was through the lens of the Bennington College podcast, and it gives the story and characters another layer of complexity that is so, so juicy. Of course, you can’t help but wonder which bits align to Tartt’s own life, particularly given that she is a famously private person.

I was left wondering if The Secret History would ever be made into a film – it’s screaming out for a lush, big budget extravaganza. I did a little research (ie. googled Secret History movie) and it seems the question was asked when the film version of The Goldfinch hit screens (which I still haven’t seen!). Apparently Joan Didion was set to write the screenplay, and after a number of false starts, the rights have reverted to Tartt. The clip below is a mock-up of what might have been…

5/5 Brilliant.

They were entrenched in Francis’s kitchen with the lights turned out, preparing, with what I felt was alarming hilarity, a series of hazardous cocktails called ‘Blue Blazers‘ which involved ignited whiskey poured back and forth in a flaming arc between two pewter mugs.