Glory & Gore 

A deep dive into “e Secret History” by Donna Tartt 

Written by P. R. Nairven

“Delicate in every way but one (the swordplay) 

God knows we like archaic kinds of fun (the old ways) 

Chance is the only game I play with, 

We let our battles choose us” 

– Glory And Gore, Lorde (2013) 

Dans un sommeil aussi doux que la mort (in a sleep as sweet as death), Richard Papen came to a perplexed consensus among the thoughts in his mind and the never-ending validation he seeked from his colleagues; to kill one of his own, and move on. But would it really not tear him apart day by day, flesh by flesh, and through all of the strength in his soul? 

(It did.)

 

It all started when a forlorn, envious Richard Papen arrived at Hampden after coming to the realisation that he can no longer bear the burden of his pre-med classes back in Plano, California, or the stifling presence of his parents, by whom he was uncared for. With no particular dreams or ambitions driving him through the solitary life he was living in his dorm room at Hampden University, he sought the one thing we all seek in our life, voluntarily or involuntarily; thrill. Adrenaline. That’s exactly when he found the Greek majors: an isolated group of five, majoring in Greek, known to be strange and odd by all, but to Richard, they seemed fascinating. The air with which they carried themselves dazzled him and their mere presence made his throat itch with nervousness.

It was by then his interest in Greek started to grow. He had studied the language before, and he was moderately good at it, so there should not have been any issue in pursuing it once again. There wasn’t; except he hadn’t really known that the Greek professor, Julian Morrow, was very specific with his selection of students. Richard wasn’t going to let his 

guard down so easily; pulling some strings here and there, he finally became a part of the Greek Classes. Nothing seemed to be wrong with the five Greek students everyone had kept in this surrounding air of mystery. Henry, with his quiet preference of solitude and language studies over people. Charles and Camilla, the twins, with their charming nature and personalities brighter than the Sun (Richard should’ve seen it coming that he was Icarus). Francis, as smart as Henry, but completely the opposite with his slender frame and indolentness. Last but not the least, Bunny, outspoken and mouthy, with a peculiar case of asthma and dyslexia, and seemingly the only one with a social life outside their little camaraderie. 

It didn’t take him long to be an inclusive addition to their group. However, it always seemed like he was close to them, but never close enough to know the things they never let him on. The tiny discrepancies that sometimes emerged through their cover (like foreign statements and remarks in Greek or their behavioral tendency to act clueless to things that Richard pointed out) made Richard think of what possibly they could be hiding beneath their masks of solidarity. 

And then it all started to come together. Binding atom by atom, piece by piece, until everything fit into frame. 

“Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greek or our own, to lose control completely?” 

Telestic Madness. Bakcheia. Dionysiac frenzy. 

They had shed the blood of someone else while trying to electrify their own. The insane process of a Bacchanal, an age old Greek ritual of losing yourself to the madness, to the feeling that you can be immortal; you are immortal, like the branches and the trees, which are born again though they have died, and the Sun and the moon, the Sky and the stars, that never fall away. Richard hadn’t known about any of this. He hadn’t known that Bunny,

with his garrulous self, had been excluded from this practice and was trying to make the fact recognised in front of an extremely unknowing Richard. 

Bunny’s arrogant, trivial nature and his threats to expose them forced the quartet to succumb to his demands. Be it his expensive restaurant bills or his selfish demands, they were forced to follow it no matter what. A catch-22, that’s what the situation screamed of, and there was possibly no way to get out of it except following Bunny’s incessant demands. 

All except one. 

“But how,” said Charles, who was close to tears, “how can you possibly justify cold-blooded murder?’ 

Henry lit a cigarette. “I prefer to think of it,” he had said, “as redistribution of matter.” 

Bunny was pushed from the top of Mount Cataract following a series of unfortunate events. It was deemed as one of the biggest manhunts in the history of Vermont, with state troopers and police cars all over. People were filled with sentiment, including Bunny’s own family, grieving and lost. 

The story curves into an arc when Bunny’s death starts pooling into the minds of the very five people who killed him. After the discovery of his body, the Greek majors are left in a blur, minds hazy and hearts nervous, having panic attacks almost every second. The arc finally forms a full circle when they start losing trust in one another, blaming each other and turning on themselves over the very act they committed, which they thought was for their own good. 

The story ends with Henry having driven a bullet through his head, Francis on the verge of suicide, a bitter end to the bond as siblings between Charles and Camilla, and Richard, guilt consuming him to the extent that he tells us the story. 

“Any action, in the fullness of time, sinks to nothingness.”

“Deprendi miserum est” (it is miserable to be caught) proves to be wrong for the Greek majors. Even after being able to hide the truth of their colleague’s death, they are miserable and wretchedly drowned in a stream of guilt. Though never caught, they receive the fruit of their actions. Needless to say, it is bitter and unripe. 

Richard, a pathological liar, desperate to be accepted into this exclusive group of Greek majors, attempts to lie in order to appear more privileged than he is, often riling up when talking of where he actually comes from. Henry, the mastermind behind their plan, despite being wealthy claims that he does not wish to be linked with his monetary possessions, painting himself as the charming saviour when in turn he is nothing more than cunning and manipulative. Francis and Camilla, alike in different ways, are not what they seem to be, with their greed as prominent as their infidelity. Charles, a heavy drinker, considered to be a kind and caring person takes on a violent turn after Bunny’s death, losing contact with everyone as his ultimate coping mechanism. 

Each one of the characters of this story add a valuable touch to its flow, with their unique personalities and sometimes conflicting views. It is interesting to see the turns this story takes, with each page opening, and another creative turn distinguishing this book from the others. 

One of my favourite elements in this book include the prominent theme of glorification. From the point where Richard meets Henry, it can be seen how much he praises his cunningness and intellect. Richard agrees with every view of Henry, and each of his decisions, no matter how immoral or contradictory they might be. The plan to kill Bunny, devised by Henry himself, is a truly wicked one: but no one really comes to realise it or even oppose this monstrous idea because of their idolisation of Henry – of how, in their minds, if Henry is the one holding the knife, it must be the fault of the one in front of it. Always. 

This excessive glorification of Henry’s character from Richard’s point of view and the way in which he was praised and appreciated for nearly everything he did along the story temporarily even makes the readers feel that Bunny’s murder was the right choice. In my case, it was only after I pondered over the story that I realised that things could have been handled in a better way than murder, but the aggrandisement of Henry and his morbid actions led us to believe that there was only one choice to save them. The title of this book truly justifies it; withholding the past so secretly that it leaves the readers in a haze, trying to figure out the order of events. The history remains a secret, but its consequences don’t. And never will. 

“We think we have many desires, but in fact we have only one. What is it?”

“To live,” said Camilla. 

“To live forever,” 

Benigne dicis. 

I thank you.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──

if you would like your poem/written piece/art/ANYTHING published without the worry of being declined, submit to Sorry! Zine’s Blog!

Submit to us through our Google Form ← Click me!