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Fiction. Literature. Suspense. Thriller. HTML:The second novel by Donna Tartt, bestselling author of The Goldfinch (winner of the 2014 Pulitzer Prize), The Little Friend is a grandly ambitious and utterly riveting novel of childhood, innocence and evil. The setting is Alexandria, Mississippi, where one Mothers Day a little boy named Robin Cleve Dufresnes was found hanging from a tree in his parents yard. Twelve years later Robins murder is still unsolved and his family remains devastated. So it is that Robins sister Harrietunnervingly bright, insufferably determined, and unduly influenced by the fiction of Kipling and Robert Louis Stevensonsets out to unmask his killer. Aided only by her worshipful friend Hely, Harriet crosses her towns rigid lines of race and caste and burrows deep into her familys history of loss. Filled with hairpin turns of plot and a bustling, ridiculous humanity worthy of Dickens (The New York....… (more)
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Comparisons, in any case, are beside the point. This novel may be a hothouse flower, but like that fatal black tupelo tree, it has ''its own authority, its own darkness.'' ''This was the hallmark of Harriet's touch,'' Hely reflects. ''She could scare the daylights out of you, and you weren't even sure why.'' Harriet's gift is also Tartt's. ''The Little Friend'' might be described as a young-adult novel for grown-ups, since it can carry us back to the breathless state of adolescent literary discovery, when we read to be terrified beyond measure and, through our terror, to try to figure out the world and our place in it.
Donna Tartt's second novel, The Little Friend, is a spacious and ambitious example of Southern Gothic.
Tartt, who was born in Mississippi, has set her new book in her home state, in a shabby riverside town
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Brilliant prose, exceptional characters, vivid setting, gripping scenes, complex plot: how can a story have so many virtues and yet leave me feeling so ill-served?
I invested many hours in reading this 555-page novel, and it
That's not what I expected after reading the author's other two novels, and it's not what I expected from the implicit promises of this one.
It may be that that's life; but that's not a satisfying novel.
I'm not going to cite passages or quote noteworthy excerpts or praise the themes and motifs and figurative language, although I might have. Instead I'm just going to walk away; but I am going to call back over my shoulder and say, "And besides, you don't know how to conjugate 'lay.'"
The edition of The Little Friend that I read was more than 600 pages, and in my opinion, it could have been half that length. The beginning of the book starts out promising. Tartt introduces us to Harriet, a precocious girl who has a strong spirit. We meet her mother, sister and a gaggle of great aunts - all of whom were interesting characters. We also meet Hely (pronounced Healy), who is Harriet's best friend and partner in crime. Quickly, we see that Harriet wants to learn more about the strange and sudden death of her older brother, and she sets her sights on a local man as a possible murder suspect.
Three hundred pages later, we're no further along in the plot then we were in the first chapter. Tartt's tangents were pleasant at first, but by the middle of the book, I wanted to get on with the story.
Finally, Tartt delivers us the inevitable "stand-off," and perhaps I was exhausted or bored or impatient - but the whole ending seemed too far-fetched. After a 600-page investment, I wanted something in return. Sadly, I was disappointed.
On the plus side, though, I commend Tartt for her vivid writing style. Her sentences were beautiful, and she eloquently depicted her characters and setting. It's a shame that the beauty of her writing got lost in a tangled yarn.
Shortlisted for the Orange Prize in 2003, The Little Friend has received many accolades, so please be sure to consult other reviews. This just wasn't the book for me.
The first few pages - well, until the character of Harriet was introduced, really - were pretty hard going. I had to read them several times just to work out what was going on.
Tartt is great at creating characters, she lays on layers and layers of information, and her prose is magical. The oily landlord is a hoot, and the aunts are well differentiated even if they add less than one would expect to the actual plot.
Can the ending be forgiven? Not sure. It's not dissimilar to The Magus (which I thought was acceptable) and Cold Comfort Farm (which wasn't). All in all, if you like great writing it was worth the journey even if the destination disappoints. And the gag about the butterfly coccoon was absolutely priceless.
It's a much more mature novel than The Secret History, with a healthy obsession with death; really, keep an eye out for death and he's everywhere, even apparently appearing
It's set in this odd male-less world, where the men have either died or left, except for the Hulls, who are trying to get in; and even they are associated with death: Hely is present at the cat's funeral and Pemberton is a lifeguard.
There's also a lot of commentary on social class. The Cleves' treatment of Odean is a particular shocker, and indeed, Harriet's choice of Robin's little friend as the murderer. She later doesn't remember why she picked him, so it's worth noting it as you read.
I could bang on for ages about all the clever correspondences between the Cleves and the Ratliffs, and the funny scenes scattered through the novel but I shall bow out and let you read the actual book.
Harriet, the protagonist of "The Little Friend," will likely remind readers of the work of another Southern author: Harper Lee. And there is a lot of Scout Finch in her: she's a tomboy, precociously intelligent, and eager to understand the world of adults. Still, "The Little Friend" has little of the reassuring sense of home that, I suspect, brings so many readers back to "To Kill a Mockingbird." Harriet has been all but abandoned by her parents and is being raised by a collection of aging great-aunts. It's not enough parental guidance to get by on, since the world she lives in, caught someplace between rapidly disappearing Old South traditions and ascendent twentieth-century mass culture, is a place of real danger. I don't want to give too much away, although most readers will find Harriet memorable and sympathetic, I get the feeling that the "Little Friend" named in the title isn't so much a character but a characteristic that I can't remember seeing in Scout: a genuine capacity for evil. It seems that the literary South is still a perilous, haunted place.
"The Little Friend" was very enjoyable to me. Having lived in Mississippi for quite a while myself, I could literally FEEL and completely understand every bit
I adored Harriet. I could relate to Harriet; her curious, serious nature despite being so young. The childhood nostalgia of this book was welcoming as well, even in the most frightening moments when the evil adult world clashes with the innocence of youth. Tartt did a remarkable job portraying the feel of the transition from innocent childhood into awkward adolescence-- not realizing it's happening until it's too late and you're looking back at a sealed door.
There's mystery, sadness, wonder and terror laced through-out the entire novel. I could feel it in my bones.
Or, to put things more concretely, in the words of novelist Pat Conroy: "My mother, Southern to the bone, once told me, 'All Southern literature can be summed up in these words: On the night the hogs ate Willie, Mama died when she heard what Daddy did to Sister.'"
Those who need a pat and neatly-tied-up ending shouldn't read Tartt's book, or if they do will be disappointed. I couldn't put it down, mainly because I kept wanting to see where Tartt was going with this. I found myself getting lost in this thing and staying up late three nights in a row reading, which these days is very unusual for me. All I can say is, Tartt's writing cast a weird spell over me.
Harriet Cleve Dusfrsnes--12 years old, fierce, bossy, and unsupervised by those who ought to care about what troubles her. One of her great aunts says to her that it's "awful" being a child--"at the mercy of other people."
Tartt's third book, The Goldfinch is one of my favorite novels. This one isn't, but it certainly is memorable. Probably the highest praise I can give the book is that it makes me want to re-read my Flannery O'Connor.
Don't get me wrong, Tartt is a
To take but two random samplings as evidence:
"Even now, Weenie's death had the waxy sheen of the linoleum in Edie's kitchen; it had the crowded feel of her glass-front cabinets (an audience of plates ranked in galleries, goggling helplessly); the useless cheer of red dishcloths and cherry-patterned curtains." (355)
"Her blood pounded, her thoughts clattered and banged around her head like coins in a shaken piggy-bank and her legs were heavy, like running through mud or molasses in a nightmare and she couldn't make them go fast enough, couldn't make them go fast enough, couldn't tell if the crash and snap of twigs (like gunshots, unnaturally loud) was only the crashing of her own feet or feet crashing down the path behind her." (436)
In sum: this unnecessarily lengthy book doesnât deliver: she doesnât resolve the primary mystery. Is it supposed to lead us to ask âinterestingâ questions like: âIs Tartt--like the director Michael Haneke--intentionally withholding from her audience?â âIs Tartt subtly mocking Brett Easton Ellis by refusing to gratify her audienceâs interests?â âDid she forget to finish the novel?â
I will listen if someone gives me reason to believe I am being ungenerous in my assessment of this novel.
The Little Friend is the story of Harriet Cleve Dufresnes, a twelve-year-old whose brother, Robin, was found hanging from a tree in the backyard of the family's home when Harriet was just a baby. It was never determined what had happened to Robin, and Harriet sets it in her mind to resolve the mystery. Set in Alexandria, Mississippi, the story is rich with a sense of place (Tartt is from Mississippi).
Populating the story are Harriet's mother, Charlotte, who has not been able to come to grips with the death of Robin; Allison, Harriet's sister, who seems detached and sullen; Edith, Harriet's grandmother (and Charlotte's mother), a strong-willed woman who seems to command the family; Adelaide, Libby and Tat, Edith's sisters; and Hely, an eleven-year-old boy who idolizes Harriet.
Filling out the cast of characters are Ida Rhew, long-time maid in the Dufresnes household; the Ratliff brothers - Farish, Danny and Eugene - Mississippi white trash all of whom have spent time in jail (and, in Farish's case, a mental hospital); and - in absentia, for the most part - Dixon Dufresnes, Harriet's father, who, frustrated with Charlotte's inability to recover from Robin's death, found work in Nashville, Tennessee, visiting his family usually on holidays.
From these characters Tartt weaves an incredible narrative about coming of age, learning to accept responsibility for oneself, and recognizing that one's acts have impact on others.
The only real fault I can find in the book is that there are points where it seems longer than it needs to have been - a flaw that is easy to forgive when the result is just more of Tartt's beautiful writing.
But the book fall a little short in narrative structure. The prologue paints a nice picture of a family history that grows and changes by retelling at family functions, only for there to be no more family functions or retelling over the next 600 pages. The central issue in the plot, who killed the brother, is not resolved at the end of the tale. The character of a young Odum girl from one of the low-life families who appears to be trying to rise from the mire is introduced, the appears once or twice more, but is never developed.
This is a good book that with a little more attention to plot development could have been a great book.
If you did, you might miss out on a treat.
Whatâs it about?
13 year old Harriet is trying hard to grow up. Her reluctant entrance into adolescence is made worse by her parentsâ reactions to her long-dead brother: her
Whatâs it like?
Itâs not the work of crime fiction you might anticipate from the premise. It takes Harriet 100 pages â slightly less than a fifth of the entire book â to decide to investigate her brotherâs murder, and even then âinvestigateâ does not turn out to be the most appropriate verb for Harrietâs inept questioning of her elders or swift reaching of conclusions.
âTwelve years after Robinâs death, no one knew any more about how he had ended up hanged from a tree in his own yard than they had on the day it happened.â
Instead, Tartt has written a slice of life set in the American Deep South, where days are slow and folk are poor and no-one wants to think about poor Robinâs death. Having grown up in the South, presumably Tarttâs writing is accurate when it evokes a whole world in telling detail. She takes a whole paragraph to describe the tenor of a birdâs cry and describes a sign in detail. The novel is full of parentheses and dashes, throwaway details that bring Harrietâs world vividly to life. In some novels this would be the dross that a thorough editor would remove; in âThe Little Friendâ these details are what make the novel such a pleasure to meander though.
Tarttâs use of language is excellent. She makes regular use of collective nouns â Harriet burrows in a âdrift of bedclothesâ â which create a thorough sense of time, place and action. You can read for the simple pleasure of the words and the pictures they conjure up rather than being hooked by a plot.
Harriet herself is utterly convincing. She regularly does things with no idea why, before or after. She reaches decisions with absolute conviction after the briefest deliberation and will not be deterred. Her slightly younger friend, Hely, loves her in a similarly childish and determined way which Tartt captures perfectly when Hely reflects on his dream that âThen they would be married foreverâ. Other characters are equally believable and just as thoroughly drawn; there are no clichĂ©s or sketches here.
âHarriet stiffened, less at the burn (glossy red, with the fibrous, bloody sheen of raw membrane) than at his hands on her shoulders.â
This is a Bildungsroman with echoes of âHarriet the spyâ and âTo Kill a Mockingbirdâ. Itâs a depiction of a family in crisis, but a quiet kind of crisis, the kind reached years after the devastating event. Readers may yearn to shake Harrietâs mother, Charlotte, to point her attention towards her two living children, but as suits a book of this ilk, Tartt doesnât leave the reader in a hopeful place.
In fact, the ending is very abrupt, and I would have preferred greater closure, or even just an ending that focused more on the central character. Despite this it (mostly) works. In real life, there arenât simple answers or clear stopping points. If you prefer your fiction not to emulate real-life too closely then this may not be for you.
A more serious flaw, IMO, is the deeply unrealistic final fate of one of the more dangerous characters, Danny. In a less realistic novel it would be easy to skip over a less than convincing development, but in this novel, with its carefully realised characters and detailed character histories, the daftness of it sort of smacks you round the face and adds a bitter taste to a sad tale.
Who is Donna Tartt?
Tartt is renowned for her first novel âThe Secret Historyâ, which Iâve never read. It took her ten years to publish this, her second book, but she is adamant that this wasnât due to writerâs block or similar. She simply wanted the opportunity to research the book thoroughly and write it carefully, especially as she was deliberately taking on a very different approach by writing a âsymphonic [novel], like War and Peaceâ. This seems just as effective an approach as churning out a book a year in terms of sales as it gives her a bit of mystique in an industry that seems to think youâre out of date if your new hardback isnât ready prior to the release of your last paperback.
Conclusions
This is a good read if you enjoy a leisurely pace, lots of description and the opportunity to ponder the meaning of various symbols. If you want to know what actually happened to Robin, you may find yourself frustrated.
I enjoyed reading âThe Little Friendâ and have added a large tick next to âThe Secret Historyâ in my mental TBR list, but without the incentive of a book group meeting to motivate me Iâm not sure when Iâll feel I have the time to tackle it.
But here? Without the iron skeleton of a conventional thriller girding her prose, she dips into indulgence, and sometimes skids off her mark. Her gorgeous, decadent Southern-gothic prose can get a little purple and overripe, her meticulousness can clog the narrative's arteries, and, over all, the little cul-de-sacs and dips of her plot can seem, well, a little aimless. THE LITTLE FRIEND is hugely weighty, topping about 500 pages. And, frankly, not all those pages are necessary. Tartt's gilded the lily, and eh, you know. Shed a hundo or so pages, and you'd be in business, I figure.
Thereâs a lot to like in this brick. The characters are colorful, and Tarttâs painting in fading hues of a Mississippi a few decades ago, full of everyday racism, poverty and abandoned property is vivid. I also like how she gradually lets games and phantasies become real and threatening, how careless words get real and tragic consequences and how Helyâs naivety goes from being annoying to really dangerous. But thereâs still something about this book that doesnât feel quite right. Itâs like it kicks in too late, and spend too much time fumbling for some sort of core. Itâs only the last 200 pages or so it becomes the page turner âThe secret historyâ was, and even then it falls into some dumb Enid Blyton-esque traps. I have a hunch this could have been a much better book. There are sparkles of greatness in here.
So ... unlike many readers here, I came to The Little Friend with zero expectations ... and, as advertised, once I was properly "immersed", I loved it. Did the author do my bidding for me and tell me everything I might have wanted to know by the story's end? No, but I don't ultimately believe that it makes sense to scold or berate an author for not writing a different book than the one she actually did write. To fully appreciate any book, but especially a book like this, we need â I certainly needed â to "surrender" to, to accept, the author's offering, on her own terms. Having done that, and on rereading it, I have to revise: 5 stars.
But this novel is not directly about a murder. It is about the effect that the murder has on the dead boy's family, and especially on his sister Harriet, who was less than a year old when he died, and is 12 when the novel begins. It is through Harriet's desire to come to terms with the past and find her brother's killer that Tartt paints her vision of family life in the American South.
The whole book, the entire portrait of a troubled family and all its relationships, stems from the unsolved murder of one young boy.
Because of Tartt's mastery of suspense, this book will grip most readers all the way through to its bitter end. But as you reach the last page, you may well feel a sense of relief. Although this is a large novel.