Is The Secret History Worth Reading

One of the best novels written in previous decades

Usually, I don’t follow trends. But as reading goals and best/worst book lists appeared everywhere, I found myself reflecting on the best book I read last year. After some thought, the choice was clear: The Secret History.

This novel is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, powerful and impactful, easily among my top ten of all time. While it may not have the power to change one’s life or worldview, it leaves the reader in awe — not only of Donna Tartt’s potent storytelling, but also of her precise understanding of psychology and class relations.

What It’s About

On one hand, it is a thriller; on the other, a philosophical exploration of the lengths people will go to protect what they believe is rightfully theirs — in this case, intellectual superiority. The story is told from the perspective of Richard, a young man from a lower-middle-class, dysfunctional family who earns a scholarship to an elite Vermont college.

Although he is not initially admitted to the Classics program, he becomes fascinated — and eventually obsessed — with an exclusive group of students studying Classics and their enigmatic teacher, Julian Morrow.

Entering the program is no easy feat. Despite limited support from the rest of the staff, Richard’s persistence convinces Julian to change his mind. He then joins Henry, Francis, the twins Charles and Camilla, and Bunny on their journey toward intellectual elevation.

But his fascination soon turns to horror when he realizes that this path entails participating in a terrible crime. The crime itself, however, is not what is central to the story.

What I Found Fascinating

The brilliance of The Secret History doesn’t lie only in its complicated plot, but in its multidimensional characters, who gradually reveal the complexity of human nature. Each of these six people is marked by psychological struggles and ethical dilemmas, and each embodies a particular type of intellectual.

Through them, Donna Tartt explores the darkest sides of intellectual ambition. She is also playing with other ideas here, to the extent that even the characters’ names reveal something about their personality traits.

Richard Papen is the character I find most relatable. Although I don’t come from the same background, I fully understood his insatiable desire to escape a suffocating environment. Richard desperately wants to leave his bleak Californian life and family behind and join the intellectual world he believes is right for him.

He is what we would call an ordinary guy: relatively insecure, morally unstable, and average in his studies and in most things he does. His almost obsessive desire to be part of the group led by Henry, and to elevate himself above the mundane and the ordinary, makes him a deeply ambivalent character.

He is, at the same time, a passive observer of the events that unfold around him and an active participant in a hideous crime. This ambivalence embodied by Richard lies at the very essence of the novel, as it portrays an individual’s readiness to sacrifice integrity.

However difficult it is to choose a favourite character here — as they are all (or at least should be) deplorable — my vote goes to Francis. His character embodies what could be called “rich white kid trauma.” He is one of those children whose parents provide everything materially, yet leave them largely to their own devices and fail to invest in their emotional upbringing.

As someone who is essentially raising himself, Francis carries a sense of “seeing through things early” and feels older than he actually is. He is wealthy, but lacks both the capacity and the authority to lead the group or to resist and challenge its dynamics, even when he is aware that things are not right.

In short, Francis is the archetype of a person who is perfectly capable of recognizing the ethical downfall of elites, yet lacks the strength to do anything about it.

Then we have Edmund “Bunny” Corcoran. Bunny comes from an “old money” family, but he has dyslexia, which makes him struggle academically. Because he only learned to read at the age of ten and lagged behind in elementary school, he started college later than the others, making him the oldest member of the group.

Bunny is, by many standards, an obnoxious character. He is self-interested and parasitic in his relationships with the rest of the group. At the same time, however, he possesses the strongest moral compass when it comes to broader ethical issues.

Two characters who perplexed me throughout the book are the twins Camilla and Charles. They share a codependent relationship that at times borders on the incestuous, likely as a result of their traumatic childhood. As the novel progresses, we learn that they lost both parents at an early age and were raised by different relatives.

Their relationship also reflects the group’s broader dynamic: people bonded by wealth, but also by trauma — neglect, abuse, and a lack of guidance and ethical grounding.

And finally, there is the group’s ringleader: Henry Winter. Henry embodies a Machiavellian character, though at times I had the impression that Donna Tartt applies a duck–rabbit effect to him. At times he appears as a devoted, caring friend; at others, he reveals himself as cold, calculating, and even sociopathic.

He is intelligent, talented, and highly educated, yet he believes and acts as if he exists outside this world, which ultimately leads him to lose touch with reality entirely.

Themes

In The Secret History, Donna Tartt blends elements of ancient Greek and Shakespearean tragedy. The rituals and inevitability of fate recall Sophoclean drama, while the intellectual ambition, self-deception, and hubris align more closely with Shakespeare’s characters.

Henry Winter, like Henry V, projects authority and discipline, and like Macbeth, he believes himself to be above ordinary laws and ethics. Richard, as a passive observer, recalls the role of the chorus in Shakespeare’s plays.

The novel also tackles isolation — both intellectual and social. The group lives in its own enclosed world, detached from reality. They barely interact with other students and show little interest in the world around them.

In such circumstances, moral boundaries begin to shift, principles erode, and corruption takes hold. This isolation results in the gradual moral decay of all the characters.

Another central theme is guilt and responsibility. Although Henry believes, like Brutus in Julius Caesar, in the philosophical justification of murder, reality ultimately proves him wrong. Each character bears a degree of responsibility for the crime, whether through direct participation or passive consent.

In this sense, the novel confronts moral relativism and explores the extent to which people are willing to justify their own actions.

Conclusion

If you are still wondering whether The Secret History is worth reading, my answer is - . Absolutely! I know I am repeating myself, but I can’t stress enough how brilliant this novel is in every segment of it. It might not change your life, but you will feel incredibly excited each time you start a new chapter — or even just turn a page.