I have always loved Donna Tartt’s debut novel, “The Secret History”, with its bleakly nostalgic and dark tale of a group of college students who, mesmerised with the ancient world and their own golden youth and privilege, commit murder. I loved how, reading it as a student, it spoke of both the allure of the clique and its suffocating, corrupting grasp. It was pure tragedy – unrequited love, fatal flaws, a plot hinged on coincidence and fate and human error. So I approached “The Goldfinch”, Tartt’s award winning third novel, with high expectations. The novel begins with its young teenage protagonist, Theo, who is caught up in a terrorist bombing at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. This catastrophic event, vividly rendered, drastically alters the entire course of Theo’s life – and thus sets in motion the key themes and plots of the novel. His mother is tragically killed, which precipitates Theo into a troubled, rootless existence, exploring how fractured and difficult ...