893 pages and very mixed feelings. That’s how The Goldfinch, by Donna Tartt, left me.
The first 50 pages of the book were a little boring, but then the story started to interest me. The beginning of the book where the story happens in New York, is quite beautiful. It almost reminded me of the magical atmosphere of the stories of Carlos Ruiz Zafón. I felt sorry for Theo, the main character of the book, and I was interested in reading more, I wanted to know what’s going to happen to him. Then Theo moves to Las Vegas and everything turns upside down. It was like you were reading another book. Drugs, alcohol, neglect and Boris, Theo’s new friend. Las Vegas -time has such ugliness that it made the first part of the story rotten. And I didn’t like it. I was so disappointed.
After many years Theo goes back to New York and narration gets back to what it was in the beginning of the book. Everything seems to get better but Theo has his demons and he’s sad. And then comes Boris, again. After the Las Vegas period I was happy that the book returned to the mood of the beginnig. What a letdown when it went back to ugliness. And, after 700 pages I started to get sick of Theo and his bad decisions. And I started to get fed up with Boris. And the whole story.
The story was good, although all the bad things and unhappiness was a little overwhelming. My favourite character was Hobie, the patient and loyal carpenter who renovated furniture and was happy doing what he loved. There’s no doubt about the fact that Donna Tartt is a good writer and a master in describing details. I just think that there were a little too much details in this book. And the book was too long, way too long. Tartt could’ve told the story with fewer pages. I’m sorry Donna Tartt but I was happy when the book ended. I couldn’t wait to start another book that was already waiting me on my bedside table.