The Little Friend

It was on the second page of The Thief's Journal that I decided I was not currently in need of his account of amoral low life. Maybe another time but it's not as glamorous as it must have seemed when I bought that book maybe 45 years ago.

Having been a great admirer of Donna Tartt's The Secret History and The Goldfinch, I had failed to engage with The Little Friend and the evidence of the bookmark left in it two-thirds of the way through, a leaflet of music events, suggested that was ion 2014. I can't understand why I didn't get on with it then, it's as involving and brilliantly written as the other two and I'm enjoying it immensely now.

Set in the dangerous environment of racist, snake-ridden Mississippi, young Harriet sets out to find out what happened when her 11 year old brother was found hanged in their back yard some years ago. Our options thus far, by about page 160 of 555 are suicide, the sinister old woman next door or the roughneck redneck family of jailbird brothers. I doubt if it was Hely or his older brother Pemberton. It could have been an accident or have another explanation but a murderer not yet mentioned would surely be too 'deus ex machina' for a writer of Donna Tartt's quality. 

The answer to the puzzle isn't the whole point, though. It's the writing and the enjoyment of reading it. Having appeared on a seven-year cycle, we are overdue a new title from her but whereas another such cult, Haruki Murakami, keeps on producing in later life, we can't be sure if Donna isn't satisfied with what she's achieved and might be happy to leave us with masterpieces only.  She is, though, right up there with the best of them - clever, literary and entertaining and, as such genuinely worthwhile while also highly marketable and thus the sort of superstar writer that there aren't, and can't be, enough of.