Monday, December 29, 2014

That showy dark crack running down the middle of a life

I spent some hours at the bookstore this afternoon, wanting something but not finding anything that satisfied. I picked up Donna Tartt's The Secret History, but then I put I put it back down again. It starts this way:
Does such a thing as "the fatal flaw," that showy dark crack running down the middle of a life, exist outside literature? I used to think it didn't. Now I think it does.
Me too. I didn't think it existed. But now I do.

The narrator believes his flaw to be "a morbid longing for the picturesque." I think that's fairly benign.

I'm not convinced how showy the crack is, but sadly, I have little trouble identifying flaws — gaping voids — in others. I have much less insight into my own shortcomings.


Cipriano said...

I wonder if you ended up buying and/or reading the book, The Secret History. It's one of my favourite books of all time. I could not put the book down. Hope you are doing fine, Isabella -- and I wish you a 2015 that is 2,015 times better than 2014.

Isabella K said...

What an awesome wish -- thank you. I wish you the same.

I did not in fact buy The Secret History, but it keeps cropping up in places. I expect I'll read it before the winter is through...