Dark Academia #1: THE SECRET HISTORY vs. IF WE WERE VILLAINS

2 novels, 1 winner. rich hot teens make oscar wilde turn in his grave.

This is the first part of a two-part series on Dark Academia, in which I review and compare two of the most popular books in the literary genre, The Secret History by Donna Tartt and If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio.

In the next part, we’ll discuss Dark Academia as an entire subculture and why it can be problematic.

If you read the headline and went, “What the hell is Dark Academia??” Here’s a quick 101, just to set the scene.

Dark Academia (DA) is an aesthetic subculture that’s allll about higher education, writing and poetry, liberal arts, and grimy Gothic architecture. It’s heavily reliant on aesthetics, and as a result, its influence is mainly seen in films and books. Some that have been categorised into the genre include: Dead Poets' Society (1999), Kill Your Darlings (2013), The Riot Club (2014), Tolkein (2019), and the Harry Potter series.

While its origins are hazy, some say the genesis of DA’s popularity can be traced back to Donna Tartt’s 1992 novel The Secret History. Upon publication, the book received rave reviews for its writing and critique on elitism, hedonism, and the reckless pursuit of academic perfection. Some even joked that it altered their brain chemistry.

Reading these reviews, I was perplexed. Flabbergasted. Confuzzled. All I could think was, “WHERE, SIS??? DID WE READ THE SAME BOOK???” because wow, did I absolutely hate it. Not for its themes (which are problematic in and of themselves, and will be duly addressed), but for its clunky writing, torturous pacing, and dull, monochromatic characters.

Let me explain.

Rich kids + vices + murder = Oscar Wilde approved?

Under the influence of their charismatic classics professor, a group of clever, eccentric misfits at an elite New England college discover a way of thinking and living that is a world away from the humdrum existence of their contemporaries. But when they go beyond the boundaries of normal morality they slip gradually from obsession to corruption and betrayal, and at last—inexorably—into evil.

This is a “howcatchem” crime thriller that follows a penniless but ambitious student, Richard, at the fictional Hampden College. Richard miraculously weasels his way into a small, exclusive Ancient Greek course, which consists of only five other students, and is taught by the elusive professor, Julian Morrow.

When one of them pulls some classist, racist, misogynistic, blackmail-y shit, the group decides to take matters into their own hands and murder him, because that’s obviously the sensible course of action. The remaining length of the book follows the characters as they scramble to cover their tracks, while grappling with the police investigations and ensuing fallout.

My topline, non-spoiler-y thoughts

The book’s unique and promising plot is handicapped by its inconsistent pacing and overwhelming amount of purple prose, which blurs and focuses at erratic and dizzying intervals. There are many pointless, digressive scenes of drug-addled parties and inane conversations that do zilch to contextualise the reading experience, except maybe provide some insight into college campus life. (Wow!! College kids drink and do drugs?? Who knew!)

It’s obvious Tartt was trying to emulate Dostoyevski’s Crime and Punishment by shifting focus away from the crime itself to the deterioration of the culprits’ sanities — the iconic novel is even given an honourable mention at the end.

Not gonna lie, C&P was a slog for me as well, but it had less to do with the story and more with my personal aversion to the stilted, meandering tendencies of Russian writing. That said, the reason C&P works is that its main character manages to eke SOME compassion from its readers. We completely understand the circumstances that drove Raskolnikov to do what he did, and if you’ve been a Student In Debt yourself, you may even find yourself relating quite a bit to him.

This is precisely why Secret’s attempt to model itself after C&P falls flat. The characters were not created to be relatable to anybody outside the upper echelons of the nouveau-riche. And the more I read about the feckless Richard and his cocky, entitled friends, the less I cared about their fates, let alone their mental wellbeing. It’s like, “Oh, you’re dead,,,, but it’s kinda your fault tho.”

Before the fanatics come for me, let me make myself clear: I GET THAT THEY’RE NOT MEANT TO BE RELATABLE OR LIKEABLE IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM. The book is a voyeuristic slice-of-life whereby we are nothing but vicarious participants in the depraved exploits of rich nepo babies living off daddy’s money. I understand that.

Look, I’m all for morally-grey antagonists. But when every (yes, ever-ry) character is not just intolerable but also utterly devoid of personality, there’s no one left to root for. Comparatively to C&P, this lack of nuance in Tartt’s slimy, silk-stocking characters kind of backfired here, IMO.

If reading about gifted kids gallivanting about country houses is not inaccessible enough, you also get pages worth of Ancient Greek philosophy and history lessons that manage to be both educational and tiresome, due to the fact that they were very apparently shoehorned in and delivered to us in the most insufferable, painful way possible.

But if the ✨aEsThEtIcS✨ is what you’re in for, I’d say Tartt did it pretty well, being a Classics major herself. The secluded but luscious school setting is vivid and fairly immersive. The characters, I would imagine, are accurate representations of their social class, frequently indulging in Dorian-esque hedonism and hijinks, until eventually dissolving into full-blown Lord of the Flies chaos.

In conclusion, my issue isn’t with its characters per se, but with its jerky pacing, wasteful prose, and detestable, BORING characters.

It’s not so bad that I wouldn’t recommend it at all. I’d say it’s worth a try if the subject matter sounds like your kinda thing, but it definitely won’t be everybody’s cup of tea.

If you’re put off the entire genre as a whole already, I say— HOLD YOUR HORSES, because I have a Dark Academia alternative that is more coherent, exciting, and accessible, WHILE also retaining the richness of its source material. Let me introduce you to…

If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio.

As one of seven young actors studying Shakespeare at an elite arts college, Oliver and his friends play the same roles onstage and off: hero, villain, tyrant, temptress, ingenue, extra. But when the casting changes, and the secondary characters usurp the stars, the plays spill dangerously over into life, and one of them is found dead. The rest face their greatest acting challenge yet: convincing the police, and themselves, that they are blameless.

If We Were Villains (IWWV) is the English Literature counterpart to Secret’s Classical Studies. Published only in 2017, it gained its popularity less traditionally (and thereby less impressively) online, but dayum, does it give its predecessor a run for its money!

Yes, the two books have very similar murder plots involving a group of entitled, hyper-intelligent frenemies in an exclusive liberal arts college. However, they differ so much in structure and pacing that they’re indisputably separate in essence and merit.

And I’m not saying one is better than the other, but I am saying one is better than the other.

So, we have two debut entries from female writers, both well-qualified in the liberal arts subjects of their respective books. But what makes one Birkin better than the other?

I will attempt to answer that by breaking down Secret History in a systematic manner, and then explaining how IWWV did it better.

**here be mild spoilers**

Plot

Both stories are told retrospectively by unreliable narrators. Timelines are fractured; information is scattered across chapters; and little clues are tucked in the crevices of lush, sweeping soliloquies about art, beauty, and death. Really fun stuff, genuinely. But in terms of story structure, they’re slightly different.

Secret History: Richard Papen, our main character (MC) — Tartt’s Raskolnikov — becomes an accomplice to premeditated murder when he tags along with the group ambush and kill their friend. Y’know, just a chill day out with the boys pushing people off cliffs, nothing too wild.

Secondary to being a diary for Richard’s day-to-day life at a private college, the book is also a psychological drama that details the decay of the group’s dynamics as its members become increasingly desperate and unhinged.

IWWV: When an angsty student at the prestigious Shakespeare conservatory is snubbed of their star role, he absolutely loses his mind. His friend group becomes increasingly concerned and afraid as what is supposed to be an understandable bitch fit progresses into a prolonged bout of drunken (and violent) insanity.

The morning after the annual Halloween party, said student is found dead. We don’t know who murdered them — could be anyone. We aren’r even sure that it isn’t our MC, Oliver Marks. The detective investigating the case plays a more significant role here, making it a “whodunnit” murder mystery.

This is a simple yet defining difference when combined with other aspects of the story, such as...

Characters

This is a big one. As mentioned, a good fraction of the characters in BOTH books are rather unlikeable. That’s fine, I can deal with asshat characters. In fact, I quite enjoy reading them. It’s always appreciated when individuals in a group don’t fall into tropes, which I feel Tartt did slightly better than Rio.

But here is where the similarities end.

A quick tangent on tropes in fiction

While cookie-cutter characters can be predictable and boring, I think common misuse has gained it a bad rep amongst fiction readers. When not overused, tropes do have their advantages. Time and place.

I mean, there’s a reason why personality typology exists, and why tests like Myers–Briggs, Enneagram, and even astrology are so popular. Many people do enjoy categorising themselves and knowing there are like-minded people out there who share similar traits. It makes other humans easier to relate to, and as a result, less scary and confusing.

In fiction, they can help us get into characters' minds to better understand why they do or think certain things. They also make it easier for us to place these characters within the story, especially in novels that feature an ensemble cast like Secret and IWWV.

Secret History: The characters are briefly described in the beginning. But without trope outlines to follow, their physical appearances start to blur together very early on, and their personalities become indistinguishable at length.

Our main dude, Richard, has the personality of a cup of flour and even fewer thoughts. He has no preferences or opinions (or spine), and only reacts to things happening around him. He is the dopey patsy who spectates his friends’ buffoonery as a bored, unwilling participant, like a child following its parents to shop for furniture.

I don’t know how a character can do the most without doing anything at all. Like, all he does is skulk around campus, aimlessly floating from one dorm to another, and obsess over Camilla, the only girl in the group. Tell me he’s a loser without telling me he’s a loser, Donna, please.

How IWWV did it better: Everyone in IWWV is distinct and vibrant. Even side characters who make one-off appearances are memorable in one way or another. The main characters all have identifiable traits that make them unique and engaging to read, even if they’re flawed. They’re each meant to parallel a character from a Shakespearean play, so while they occasionally fall victim to trope-y stuff, it still makes sense to the theme.

Oliver, though quiet and passive, at least has a functioning brain, unlike Richard. He is emotional and intelligent, acutely aware of his surroundings, and proactive when he needs to be, which allows him to be sufficiently involved in the story. The personality of KFC 11 spices. We stan.

Speaking of main narrators, this brings me to my next point:

Inconsistent narrative tone

Secret History: Richard’s tone of voice constantly switches up throughout the story. Sometimes he speaks/thinks like a normal teenager, and other times he unironically and uncharacteristically blurts out Latin and Ancient Greek phrases (that are rarely explained, btw).

This defeats the purpose of him being the only ‘normal’ one in the group in the first place. ‘Normal’ in quote marks because there are occasions where his internal monologues randomly segue into airy, abstract descriptions that sound NOTHING like a college-going human being.

Some examples, just from the first chapter:

I felt things would doubtless continue in this depressing vein as far as I could forsee.

[…]

The dazzle of this fictive childhood — full of swimming pools and orange groves and dissolute, charming show-biz parents has all but eclipsed the drab original.

[…]

They looked very much alike, with heavy dark-blond hair and epicene faces as clear, as cheerful and grave, as a couple of Flemish angels.

Like, am I supposed to know what Flemish angels look like?? What kind of young adult thinks like this??

It’s hilarious because he goes on to make a snide remark about the college’s pretentious inhabitants, in THE most pretentious way possible:

And perhaps the most unusual in the context of Hampden — where psuedo-intellects and teenage decadents abounded, and where black clothing was de rigueur — they liked to wear pale clothes, particularly white. In this swarm of cigerettes and dark sophistication they appeared here and there like figures from an allegory, or long-dead celebrants from some forgotten garden party.

I actually laughed out loud.

Richard, my brother in Christ Academia, you are 28 years old, from a small Californian town. Why is your inner voice that of an old, white Oxbridge-educated Court Justice who pronounces ‘tissue’ as ‘tiss-yew’?? Make it make sense!

The thing is, guys, Richard isn’t supposed to be pretentious. He certainly tries to be, outwardly, but the fact is that he isn’t. This ‘impoverished kid befriending the rich’ schtick is the identifying characteristic that sets him apart from his peers, who are the real Richie-rich and have been in private education all their lives. He doesn’t actually embody their values or think or act like them.

His friends are the ones who speak in Latin and Ancient Greek, which you’d have to look up yourself (I didn’t because I wasn’t that invested).

This might be fitting for a story about an elite school, but makes the book itself pompous and pretentious, just like its characters. I’m not saying everything has to be translated into English for my convenience, but the sheer number of times Tartt unnecessarily obstructs her prose with dead languages that may not be readable or accessible to some readers, makes it seem as if she just couldn’t wait to show off everything she’d learnt in her Classics course.

It is equivalent to laying down barricades or obstacles to the knowledge needed to fully appreciate whatever it is she is trying to say, which, inadvertently or not, perpetuates the privilege and academic snobbery she set out to criticise in the first place.

Sorry, back to Richard. Where was I? Oh yeah, let’s talk about that one point in the story where he considers r*ping (!!!!) the girl he’s infatuated with.

ACTUAL QUOTE, verbatim:

“I felt a fierce, nearly irresistibly desire to seize Camilla by her bruised wrist, twist her arm behind her back until she cried out, throw her on my bed: strangle her, rape her, I don’t know what.”

What. The Fuck.

I mean, it’s all fine and dandy if the other characters are the devil’s spawn, but at least make the main character NOT a potential r*pist??

How IWWV did it better: Oliver & Company (hah, see what I did there) quote Shakespeare in their daily speech, but in more believable ways that make sense to the conversation topic and correlate with the roles they play on stage.

Here’s an excerpt wherein the boys quote Shakespeare’s Henry VI as they discuss retaliating against another violent member:

“Listen,” [Alexander] said, “[redacted] can’t fight off all three of us at once. Tomorrow, if he tries anything, instead of assassination we give him a righteous ass-kicking.”

“Here is my hand,” James said, after a split second’s hesitation. “The deed is worthy doing.”

I hesitated also, a split second longer. “And so say I.”

Alexander squeezed my arm. “And I and now we three have spoke it, let the stupid bastard do his worst.”

Appropriate, consistent, and understandable, even if you’ve never read Henry VI.

Additionally, Oliver’s narration doesn’t give me ‘𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕓𝕠𝕠𝕡 𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕟 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕥𝕣𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕒 𝕙𝕦𝕞𝕒𝕟 𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘’. OH, and he also doesn’t have intrusive thoughts about assaulting the girl he has a crush on 😃😃😃

While we’re on the topic of weird writing…

Pacing

Secret History: If there is such a thing as overacting, there must be such a thing as overwriting, and Donna Tartt is guilty of it, because goddamn, how many times do I have to read about the branches turning from green to yellow to red to bare to green again?

Out of the book’s 500+ pages, I swear at least 200 are dedicated to weather changes and descriptions of the mundane that neither emphasise nor diminish anything. The story also often pauses itself to accommodate gratuitous ramblings on mid- to high-level philosophical concepts and dead languages that don’t feel natural.

And so leaves turn, conversations drone, and I briefly consider touching the burning candle by my bed just to feel something.

How IWWV did it better: Rio’s prose is beautiful as it is swift. The story is snappy; scenes don’t drag on for longer than they need to, and the characters' actions actively influence their perspectives and reactions to the murder. She also did not need a thousand and one paragraphs to show us the Dellecher campus is lit AF.

Themes from Shakespeare’s works are woven into both plot and prose effortlessly, and condensed just the right amount so people who aren’t familiar with the great bard can enjoy the story as well.

Two gorgeous excerpts I adored:

The real sky was enormous overhead, making our mirrors and thinking stage lights seem ridiculous — Man’s futile attempt to imitate God.

[…]

“The world seemed to stop on its axis, like a top precariously balanced on its point. The stars gleamed cruelly overhead, shards of glass scattered in the sky. Every nerve in my body was a live wire, shrinking away from the touch of the cold March air. James was colder, carved from ice, not my friend, not even human.”

Both Richard and Oliver attend elite, private colleges in the 1980/90s, but do you see the difference in voice and tone?? Wild.

Another example of how Rio’s prose draws influence from Shakespeare and Gothic literature in a way that doesn’t make me want to touch fire:

I knew by then that I would survive my time in prison, quietly counting down the days until all my sins had been atoned for. But his was a softer soul, sunk in sin to the hilt, and I wasn’t sure he would.

She also expertly translates the mechanics of stage plays into the novel's structure. Scenes are set, and open and close cleanly, as if there is a physical curtain going up and down.

When the group comes together, conversations are written without dialogue tags, like an actual stage play. In other contexts, this might be considered lazy writing, but here, it’s a relevant decision that makes for efficient storytelling while serving to personalise her style.

All this is done so surreptitiously that you might not notice if you aren’t paying attention, which works in the story’s favour because it makes everything much less show-off-y.

I suppose Rio’s MA in Shakespeare studies from King’s College London and Shakespeare’s Globe helped a lot, though qualifications in the subject matter do not automatically equate to good storytelling. 👀

So if you were to pick one…

Though both novels are somewhat comparable, I strongly recommend If We Were Villains over The Secret History, purely due to its better pacing, vibrant, fleshed-out characters that leap off the page, and smoother transmutation of its source material into the modern, contemporary world.

On the other hand, though The Secret History has ostensibly positioned itself as a layered critique of the sexist, classist aspects of academia, the very book itself, with its cumbersome writing and incorporation of dead languages into its prose without explanation, to me, actually perpetuates the fundamental problems of Dark Academia in the first place.

But that’s just my opinion, and a discussion for the next issue. Stay tuned!!