Secret History

As the weather gets colder, my craving for darker and moodier books seems to be taking over. I've been diving headfirst into the world of "dark academia," where the vibes of old England, university life, libraries, and classical literature reign supreme. After delving into The Secret History, a book I found to be a distant relative of the Atlas Trilogy I've read before, let me tell you, it's like the missing piece in my somewhat gloomy puzzle. Little did I know I was about to stumble upon a book that would linger in my mind for years, becoming my go-to recommendation for everyone.

The Secret History transports us to the remote corners of the university, where a selected group of students attends the Greek Language and Literature department, distinct from other professors with a unique style. These students, resembling an introverted group of philosophers, engage in internal discussions, readings, and, of course, dress quite elegantly, albeit with their parents' financial support. Our narrator, Richard, a student with limited financial means who found himself at this university as a means of escaping from his family, is highly impressed by the group. Despite joining the university a bit late in the first semester, he manages to convince his professor to accept him with his enduring interest in Greek literature and existing knowledge of Greek.

In a place adorned with books called the "Lyceum" (named after where Aristotle used to give his lectures, very cool, right?), Richard meets the other students. While feeling quite poor and inadequate among them, the influence of being part of a small team and engaging in heated literary debates eventually leads him to believe that he has become part of this small community. Oh, and did I mention this captivating group ends up killing someone? Although you might sense that someone familiar has died, to find out who and how, you need to continue reading.

Let me tell you this much: I jumped with excitement in the middle of the book due to the suspense. I am almost certain that, regardless of being in a crowded metro, I murmured hmm, what, oh my, while turning every page. It's so gripping and chilling that, after a certain point, you don't want to be alone. The genre of the book is definitely not horror, and there are no monsters or ghosts. However, the depth of conversations and the well-detailed impact of events make you feel drawn into the story. Suddenly, you find yourself wanting to defend, "No, I'm innocent, I'm just a reader!" Atlas Trilogy vibes? Yes, it resembles it in terms of the literary atmosphere and philosophical discussions. However, it reminded me more of the book/film Dead Poets Society. Like there, you immerse yourself in a somewhat depressive atmosphere while also yearning to be part of this group.

With the phrase "Beauty is terror," known for the striking, terrifying, and destructive nature of beauty, this book is undoubtedly a work that you can recommend to anyone without hesitation. If you think the book will progress with a focus on solving the murder, who did it, and what happened, you are mistaken. In fact, if someone were to say so, I could sit and laugh for a while because the book truly begins after this murder. Just like in the opening credits of Harry Potter films, it has a gradually darkening atmosphere from the first film to the last. When you reach the end, your heart is tight, and you wish it would end before it gets even darker. In any case, I can guarantee that the long-lasting impact of the conversations and debates in the book will stay with you for many years, and you won't be able to help but contemplate them when you are alone with your thoughts.

P.S.: If you're thinking of reading Euripides' "The Bacchae" after finishing this book, you're on the same page. Stay tuned! ❤

“We think we have many desires, but in fact we have only one. What is it?” “To live,” said Camilla. “To live forever”

“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. And I think that mine is this: a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.”