Have We Grown Out of Dark Academia?
Stop me if you’ve heard this before: a group of friends meet at an academic institution. They form a tight-knit clique, closed to outsiders. One of their new comrades goes off the rails. Weirdness ensues, culminating in murder ...
This genre, which for want of a better term is known as Dark Academia, has been big business since Donna Tartt’s debut novel The Secret History was published in 1992. I was seduced by the book as a teenager; it seemed so twisted and adult. Oddly enough, it made me impatient to go to uni, even though chances were good I’d wind up in a body bag.
There have been numerous pretenders to the throne, transplanting Tartt’s beautiful elite to various settings. If We Were Villains moves the scene to a prestigious classical conservatory, with the leads as Shakespeare obsessed actors. Bunny’s batshittery occurs against the backdrop of a creative writing class. The protagonist of The Truants is taking a course about Agatha Christie.
The characters tend to be stock archetypes, immediately recognisable. There’s the narrator, the hapless Everyman (or woman) drawn into the insanity; the aforementioned fallen friend, who is deeply unpleasant under a veneer of charm; a female character who exists solely to be everyone’s love interest and fantasy object. And of course there’s the Charismatic But Flawed Mentor, who may or may not sleep with their students, and whose ‘inspirational lectures’ could be bought online for fifty bucks.
I’ve been an avid reader of the genre since the Noughties. Should a book feature the words “reminiscent of The Secret History” in its blurb somewhere, I’m there. But having read possibly too many of them, I’m starting to wonder: are we growing out of our infatuation with Dark Academia?
Sometimes the main beef is technical. Some follow The Secret History’s blueprint too closely, reading like bad fanfiction with superficial changes. Tartt was an adept stylist and plotter; unfortunately her successors aren’t. They go in for overkill, describing the characters’ incessant drinking and debauchery in florid detail. Twists are telegraphed miles away; plot balls are dropped either too soon or not at all. If We Were Villains has the occupational hazard that whenever it grows tense, the characters start spouting Shakespeare. Reams of it.
It doesn’t help that young adults simply aren’t very interesting. It’s difficult to see a character as unique when they’re having exactly the same thoughts and experiences as countless other protagonists from other novels. And why are the narrators such wishy washy milquetoasts? Why can’t there be one who gets off on the murder and secrecy, or one who shops their former friends to the cops - or even one who spills all to the tabloids? Inez in Catherine House might be a parasite who spends her time bonking the student body and stealing other people’s food, but at least she has a personality.
There’s a recurring issue with gay characters, which might not seem significant to straight readers but blares out loud and clear to me. The casts often feature a swishy, drunken gay man who’s riddled with self loathing and neuroses, and might’ve wandered in from a Hays Code era polemic. They’re never allowed to form meaningful relationships, hitting on their straight colleagues instead. I understand this happening in period pieces, but in books written in the past few years? Give me a break.
On the lesbian side of the fence, matters are even worse. There’s a running theme of female protagonists drawn to their best friend, it looks promisingly romantic - and boom! A random man turns up, frequently the bestie’s brother, and the heroine kids herself she was attracted to him all along (The Poison Tree, Upstairs at the Party, The Truants). Lesbianism is the love that dares not speak its name in these novels - the gay male characters might be predatory and unsavoury, but at least they exist. Are you seriously suggesting you wouldn’t find a lesbian studying drama or creative writing? A rare exception is Franny in The Lessons, who dates a woman after uni. “Apparently she’s gay now,” another character says - and it’s never mentioned again. Though at least it’s written by a bi woman.
Several of these appear to be first novels, which explains some of the writing and plot problems, as well as the plagiarism. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, y’all. But rather than Brideshead Revisited with added homocide, why don’t these authors attempt something new? As it seems to be an exclusively female genre, why not have a woman be the villainous mastermind or a lesbian romance front and centre? The possibilities are endless!
This genre, which for want of a better term is known as Dark Academia, has been big business since Donna Tartt’s debut novel The Secret History was published in 1992. I was seduced by the book as a teenager; it seemed so twisted and adult. Oddly enough, it made me impatient to go to uni, even though chances were good I’d wind up in a body bag.
There have been numerous pretenders to the throne, transplanting Tartt’s beautiful elite to various settings. If We Were Villains moves the scene to a prestigious classical conservatory, with the leads as Shakespeare obsessed actors. Bunny’s batshittery occurs against the backdrop of a creative writing class. The protagonist of The Truants is taking a course about Agatha Christie.
The characters tend to be stock archetypes, immediately recognisable. There’s the narrator, the hapless Everyman (or woman) drawn into the insanity; the aforementioned fallen friend, who is deeply unpleasant under a veneer of charm; a female character who exists solely to be everyone’s love interest and fantasy object. And of course there’s the Charismatic But Flawed Mentor, who may or may not sleep with their students, and whose ‘inspirational lectures’ could be bought online for fifty bucks.
I’ve been an avid reader of the genre since the Noughties. Should a book feature the words “reminiscent of The Secret History” in its blurb somewhere, I’m there. But having read possibly too many of them, I’m starting to wonder: are we growing out of our infatuation with Dark Academia?
Sometimes the main beef is technical. Some follow The Secret History’s blueprint too closely, reading like bad fanfiction with superficial changes. Tartt was an adept stylist and plotter; unfortunately her successors aren’t. They go in for overkill, describing the characters’ incessant drinking and debauchery in florid detail. Twists are telegraphed miles away; plot balls are dropped either too soon or not at all. If We Were Villains has the occupational hazard that whenever it grows tense, the characters start spouting Shakespeare. Reams of it.
It doesn’t help that young adults simply aren’t very interesting. It’s difficult to see a character as unique when they’re having exactly the same thoughts and experiences as countless other protagonists from other novels. And why are the narrators such wishy washy milquetoasts? Why can’t there be one who gets off on the murder and secrecy, or one who shops their former friends to the cops - or even one who spills all to the tabloids? Inez in Catherine House might be a parasite who spends her time bonking the student body and stealing other people’s food, but at least she has a personality.
There’s a recurring issue with gay characters, which might not seem significant to straight readers but blares out loud and clear to me. The casts often feature a swishy, drunken gay man who’s riddled with self loathing and neuroses, and might’ve wandered in from a Hays Code era polemic. They’re never allowed to form meaningful relationships, hitting on their straight colleagues instead. I understand this happening in period pieces, but in books written in the past few years? Give me a break.
On the lesbian side of the fence, matters are even worse. There’s a running theme of female protagonists drawn to their best friend, it looks promisingly romantic - and boom! A random man turns up, frequently the bestie’s brother, and the heroine kids herself she was attracted to him all along (The Poison Tree, Upstairs at the Party, The Truants). Lesbianism is the love that dares not speak its name in these novels - the gay male characters might be predatory and unsavoury, but at least they exist. Are you seriously suggesting you wouldn’t find a lesbian studying drama or creative writing? A rare exception is Franny in The Lessons, who dates a woman after uni. “Apparently she’s gay now,” another character says - and it’s never mentioned again. Though at least it’s written by a bi woman.
Several of these appear to be first novels, which explains some of the writing and plot problems, as well as the plagiarism. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, y’all. But rather than Brideshead Revisited with added homocide, why don’t these authors attempt something new? As it seems to be an exclusively female genre, why not have a woman be the villainous mastermind or a lesbian romance front and centre? The possibilities are endless!
date
newest »
newest »
message 1:
by
Rachael
(new)
Apr 18, 2022 07:07AM
Since I wrote this blog, there’s been a positive plethora of lesbian dark academia. It looks like various authors noticed this gap in the market and filled it - and as a reader, I couldn’t be happier.
reply
|
flag
