Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.”
Hello friends! ✨ Welcome to another book review, today’s book is a very special one for me and I cannot believe that I haven’t written a review for it; however since I have re-read it recently, I thought that this perfection deserves a review on my blog. I have so much to tell, so much to feel, and I do not remember another book I love and care about this much besides this one, however, let me not bother you, we have so much to talk about. One quick detail I wish to give is that this review is full of spoilers. I have written about everything and anything, so please do not read the review if you wish to not hear anything about the book plot. without further babbling; let’s go!
I’ve read a lot of novels, but nothing grips me quite like this one. It’s dark, unsettling, beautifully written, and every time I revisit it, I find something new to obsess over. But what really sets it apart for me is how it ties back to ancient Greek ideas, particularly the Bacchae, and how trying to live by those ideas in modern times can utterly destroy a person; or in this case, a whole community.
The story revolves around a group of elite, pretentious (in the best way) students at a small liberal arts college in Vermont. They’re deeply immersed in their Greek studies, under the spell of their equally enigmatic and borderline cultish professor, Julian Morrow. Enter Richard Papen, our narrator, who is an outsider looking in, fascinated by this mysterious group of scholars. From the very beginning, you know something is off, something dark is brewing, and you’re immediately drawn in. The novel really takes off when the group, led by the incredibly intense Henry, decides to re-enact a Dionysian ritual. Their goal? To transcend reality and experience something wild, something beyond the everyday. They’re chasing the ecstasy and madness of the Bacchanalia, this chaotic, frenzied worship of Dionysus that in Greek mythology, was all about losing control and embracing the primal side of human nature. And honestly, they succeed: but at a huge cost.
Does such a thing as “the fatal flaw,” that showy dark crack running down the middle of a life, exist outside literature?”
Oh yes. Yes, it definitely does.
In their quest to reach that transcendence, they accidentally kill a local farmer. This is the moment where the book shifts and everything starts to unravel. What I love about Tartt’s portrayal of this event is how it reflects the core of Greek tragedy: the more these characters try to rise above human limitations, the further they fall. Henry is so wrapped up in the idea that beauty and intellect are above morality that he’s willing to justify murder for the sake of his ideal. It’s chilling and brilliant all at once.
And then, there’s Bunny. God, Bunny. He’s probably one of the most irritating characters I’ve ever read, but that’s what makes him so fascinating. He finds out about the murder and, of course, uses it to his advantage, manipulating the group and driving them closer to the edge. But you can feel that his days are numbered from the moment he starts blackmailing them. The group ultimately decides to kill him to protect their secret, and this act pushes them all past the point of no return. Bunny’s death (not so pitiful), being lured out and pushed off a cliff by his so-called friends is just tragic in that classic, inevitable way. It’s like you know it’s coming, and yet you can’t look away.
For me, the real genius of the novel lies in how it uses ancient Greek philosophy and tragedy to expose the group’s downfall. The students think they can play with these dangerous, ancient ideas without consequence. They’re fascinated by the intellectual beauty of the Bacchae, and how the surrender to chaos and ecstasy can break the limits of the human experience. But what they don’t realize is that the Bacchae, in Greek tragedy, always come with destruction. They let go of their human constraints, and it costs them everything.
Any action, in the fullness of time, sinks to nothingness.”
Henry, especially, is a perfect example of this. He’s brilliant, cold, and calculated, utterly consumed by this idea that beauty and higher purpose are worth more than morality or the lives of others. But in the end, even Henry can’t escape the chaos he helped unleash. His suicide feels like the only logical conclusion after everything he’s done, a final tragic act that brings the whole Greek tragedy full circle. The group falls apart, and the lofty ideals they were striving for are left in ruins.
What I really love about the story is how it makes you think about the dangers of idealizing the past. The group is so enamoured with these ancient ideas that they forget they’re not living in ancient Greece. They’re modern people with modern limits, trying to tap into something that they can’t control. Tartt brilliantly shows how trying to live by these old, intense ideals doesn’t work in the modern world—it ends in madness and destruction. The Bacchanalia was never meant for people like them, and their downfall feels inevitable the moment they attempt it.
The writing is just stunning. Tartt’s prose is elegant and sharp, and the way she builds tension is masterful. There are no wasted words; every sentence feels carefully crafted to pull you deeper into this world of intellectual vanity and moral decay. By the end, I was left with that rare feeling of having read something both haunting and beautiful, something that sticks with you long after you’ve closed the book.
In short, if you love books that dive into the darker side of human nature, mixing philosophy with psychological drama, and leave you questioning everything about morality and obsession this book is it. It’s not just a story; it’s a full-on experience. And for me, it’s a reminder of how dangerous it can be when we try to live outside the bounds of what it means to be human. 🫂⭐
Luster of Books 