Winner of the 2014 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction
In 1654, a Dutch
painter by the name of Carel Fabritius painted The Goldfinch. As one of Rembrandt’s most gifted pupils, he
appeared to be destined for a long, successful career and lasting fame. But on October 12, 1654, a gunpowder factory
near his home in Delft exploded destroying a quarter of the city and Fabritius
was one of the casualties. Approximately a dozen of his works, including The Goldfinch, survived. This work
really exists – I saw it while studying in the Netherlands and was captivated
by it. I returned to view it at least ten times before having to leave for
England. This work, which has captured the souls of many, is at the heart of
Tartt’s latest, engrossing novel.
A teenager, Theo
Decker, accompanies his mother to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where the
Fabritius painting is on loan. While they are there, a bomb explodes. Theo’s
mother is one of the bomb’s victims, and in the chaos that ensues, he picks up
the painting and carries it out of the museum. The story is peopled by many
disparate characters: some fascinating, some bizarre, who come in and out of
Theo’s life in the next few years. He moves from New York to Las Vegas when his
estranged father takes over as guardian, and returns, under desperate
circumstances, after his death. And all the while he carries the painting –
carefully wrapped and hidden, but always part of his awareness. It is a
constant, subtle character, out of sight but never out of mind, which
influences Theo’s every decision.
Simply stated, the
story tells what happens to Theo and the painting—the longer he hides it, the
less able he is to simply return it. The Goldfinch is an absorbing
novel, but one of its most interesting aspects is its consideration of what
makes art art, or, more prosaically, what makes art timeless. Why does a
350-year-old painting exert such a hold on this young man?
At the very end of The Goldfinch, Theo, now an adult looks
back on all that happened to him since the explosion, when his fate and that
of Fabritius’s painting were joined. As much as he would like to believe
otherwise, he says, “I’ve come to believe that there’s no truth beyond
illusion. Because, between ‘reality’ on the one hand, and the point where the
mind strikes reality, there’s a middle zone, a rainbow edge where beauty comes
into being, where two very different surfaces mingle and blur to provide what
life does not: and this is the space where all art exists, and all magic.” Long
live art and magic!
CAS