What do you think?
Rate this book
Латинист
Тесса Темплтон только что дописала блестящую диссертацию о поэме Овидия "Метаморфозы" под чуткой опекой коллеги и наставника, профессора античной литературы Кристофера Эклса.
Но странным образом её попытки найти работу терпят крах. Таинственное письмо раскроет Тессе глаза на то, кто именно саботирует её дальнейшую карьеру и как перипетии её жизни переплетаются с сюжетом "Метаморфоз"...
Но странным образом её попытки найти работу терпят крах. Таинственное письмо раскроет Тессе глаза на то, кто именно саботирует её дальнейшую карьеру и как перипетии её жизни переплетаются с сюжетом "Метаморфоз"...
352 pages, Hardcover
First published January 4, 2022
512 people are currently reading
11502 people want to read
About the author
Mark Prins
1 book81 followersMark Prins is the author of The Latinist, forthcoming from W.W. Norton in January 2022.
A graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, Mark has received fellowships from the Truman Capote Trust, the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference, and the Sun Valley Writers’ Conference. Previously, he studied literature at Williams College and Exeter College, Oxford. He lives in Brooklyn, New York.
A graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, Mark has received fellowships from the Truman Capote Trust, the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference, and the Sun Valley Writers’ Conference. Previously, he studied literature at Williams College and Exeter College, Oxford. He lives in Brooklyn, New York.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 634 reviews
January 3, 2022
a straight man definitely wrote this book
January 18, 2022
The Latinist by Mark Prins requires patience, and possibly, a love for Antiquity. I have an abundance of the latter, but not always the former. So, after a slow start, this novel eventually captured my full attention.
Tessa Templeton is in the final leg of completing her DPhil at Oxford University under the mentorship of the head of the Classics Department, Christopher Eccles. While studying, Tessa has hit some major milestones that should have easily secured her future as an academic. But after receiving countless rejection letters and only one job offer from her university, Tessa is beyond disappointed and worried about her future.
Tessa eventually learns the reason why she has been receiving rejection letters: an anonymous email warns her that Chris is deliberately sabotaging her career with his lacklustre letter of recommendation. Tessa initially brushes it off but soon realizes that it is probably true (not a spoiler, this all happens in the first few pages). Amidst all this uncertainty, Tessa ends up piecing together information about a second-century Latin poet. This discovery is information that is sure to shake up the scholarly Classical World and put her budding career back on track.
Meanwhile, Chris believes himself to be in love with Tessa and will do what he can to keep her near. Yeah, he’s a boundary-crossing creeper.
The Latinist is a slow-moving book that alternates perspectives between Tessa and Chris. There are themes of obsession, ambition, and control.
The author drew inspiration from Ancient Rome with many primary sources and invented some to fit with the story. The Apollo and Daphne myth plays a large role in this tale.
I recommend The Latinist to those interested in Ancient Rome, the Latin Language, archaeology, and anthropology with some modern-day drama mixed in.
Thank you to W. W. Norton & Company for an arc provided via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
https://booksandwheels.com/
Tessa Templeton is in the final leg of completing her DPhil at Oxford University under the mentorship of the head of the Classics Department, Christopher Eccles. While studying, Tessa has hit some major milestones that should have easily secured her future as an academic. But after receiving countless rejection letters and only one job offer from her university, Tessa is beyond disappointed and worried about her future.
Tessa eventually learns the reason why she has been receiving rejection letters: an anonymous email warns her that Chris is deliberately sabotaging her career with his lacklustre letter of recommendation. Tessa initially brushes it off but soon realizes that it is probably true (not a spoiler, this all happens in the first few pages). Amidst all this uncertainty, Tessa ends up piecing together information about a second-century Latin poet. This discovery is information that is sure to shake up the scholarly Classical World and put her budding career back on track.
Meanwhile, Chris believes himself to be in love with Tessa and will do what he can to keep her near. Yeah, he’s a boundary-crossing creeper.
The Latinist is a slow-moving book that alternates perspectives between Tessa and Chris. There are themes of obsession, ambition, and control.
The author drew inspiration from Ancient Rome with many primary sources and invented some to fit with the story. The Apollo and Daphne myth plays a large role in this tale.
I recommend The Latinist to those interested in Ancient Rome, the Latin Language, archaeology, and anthropology with some modern-day drama mixed in.
Thank you to W. W. Norton & Company for an arc provided via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
https://booksandwheels.com/
January 11, 2022
This is one of those frustrating novels that you want to grab by the shoulders and shake because it has all the potential in the world to be something extraordinary, but for whatever reason it seems content to just be Fine. Roughly tracing the outlines of the Apollo and Daphne myth, The Latinist follows Oxford classics scholar Tessa, who discovers that her supervisor, the renowned scholar and Head of Department Chris Eccles, is sabotaging her career. This novel’s main strength lies in this conceit—Prins does an eerily brilliant job at capturing the quiet horror of finding yourself trapped in a situation where you’re entirely dependent on another person, who you’re slowly realizing does not have your best interests at heart. Certain passages of this novel cut me to my core, made me feel physically ill with recognition.
Unfortunately, Prins is determined to undermine his own fantastic setup by indulging the urge to humanize Chris in ways that I felt pulled against the novel’s main objectives. At first, I didn’t mind reading the passages from Chris’s perspective, as they initially just serve to corroborate how disturbing his behavior is; it seemed like a harmless if unnecessary addition. But then there’s a whole subplot involving his dying mother that ultimately doesn’t go anywhere worthwhile, that I was just itching to cut out of the manuscript altogether. What is even accomplished by reiterating to the reader that Chris is a fallible human? We know that from the start, and having that point belabored just feels patronizing.
I have a few other complaints—for whatever reason Prins likes to throw in a mini-flashback on every other page, telling the reader about a scene that had happened two days prior, rather than just showing that scene to the reader in real-time; there’s also an anthropological discovery made partway through that hinges on such an enormous assumption that it was rather maddening that none of the characters seemed to question it—but on the whole, I can’t say I didn’t enjoy reading this. Prins’s writing is sharp and readable, Tessa is a fantastically written character, and certain passages that deal with obsession and power really sing. It just feels a bit aimless and rushed in places and I think really would have benefited thematically from keeping its narrative focus on Tessa.
Thank you to Netgalley and W.W. Norton for the advanced copy provided in exchange for an honest review.
Unfortunately, Prins is determined to undermine his own fantastic setup by indulging the urge to humanize Chris in ways that I felt pulled against the novel’s main objectives. At first, I didn’t mind reading the passages from Chris’s perspective, as they initially just serve to corroborate how disturbing his behavior is; it seemed like a harmless if unnecessary addition. But then there’s a whole subplot involving his dying mother that ultimately doesn’t go anywhere worthwhile, that I was just itching to cut out of the manuscript altogether. What is even accomplished by reiterating to the reader that Chris is a fallible human? We know that from the start, and having that point belabored just feels patronizing.
I have a few other complaints—for whatever reason Prins likes to throw in a mini-flashback on every other page, telling the reader about a scene that had happened two days prior, rather than just showing that scene to the reader in real-time; there’s also an anthropological discovery made partway through that hinges on such an enormous assumption that it was rather maddening that none of the characters seemed to question it—but on the whole, I can’t say I didn’t enjoy reading this. Prins’s writing is sharp and readable, Tessa is a fantastically written character, and certain passages that deal with obsession and power really sing. It just feels a bit aimless and rushed in places and I think really would have benefited thematically from keeping its narrative focus on Tessa.
Thank you to Netgalley and W.W. Norton for the advanced copy provided in exchange for an honest review.
August 25, 2023
DNF at about 20%
Not very well researched with the basic terminology of doctoral study being Americanised despite the setting being Oxford: we don't have dissertation advisors, we have doctoral supervisors; we don't 'defend' our dissertation, we have a viva. And lots of jarring details about the whole job search thing: the idea of a member of UCL's interview committee sending an email to a rejected candidate with a copy of their confidential reference is just ludicrous. And not just one, but two academic professionals reveal this confidential information to our heroine. A plot that depends on unethical and unprofessional behaviour from even walk-on characters undermines itself from the start.
Too much of the 'literary' research is just silly and so old fashioned, based around that old chestnut of biographical fallacy: e.g. here a poet chooses to write in 'limping iambics' because he limps! And our heroine is valorised for discovering this! In fact, the elegiac couplet used extensively by poets, including Ovid (whose Apollo and Daphne is the model for this whole story), is also known as a limping metre (one six foot and one five foot line) - and none of the elegists limped!
If you're going to write in detail about classical literary scholars and make their research central to the novel then best have something interesting for them to work on - this is akin to writing about contemporary scientists doing research that doesn't know about the atom or DNA and claiming they're cutting edge and brilliant in today's scientific environment.
And don't even get me started on the cliché of sexual relationships between academics and students... DNF this at about 20%, too slow, too wrong, too irritating.
Not very well researched with the basic terminology of doctoral study being Americanised despite the setting being Oxford: we don't have dissertation advisors, we have doctoral supervisors; we don't 'defend' our dissertation, we have a viva. And lots of jarring details about the whole job search thing: the idea of a member of UCL's interview committee sending an email to a rejected candidate with a copy of their confidential reference is just ludicrous. And not just one, but two academic professionals reveal this confidential information to our heroine. A plot that depends on unethical and unprofessional behaviour from even walk-on characters undermines itself from the start.
Too much of the 'literary' research is just silly and so old fashioned, based around that old chestnut of biographical fallacy: e.g. here a poet chooses to write in 'limping iambics' because he limps! And our heroine is valorised for discovering this! In fact, the elegiac couplet used extensively by poets, including Ovid (whose Apollo and Daphne is the model for this whole story), is also known as a limping metre (one six foot and one five foot line) - and none of the elegists limped!
If you're going to write in detail about classical literary scholars and make their research central to the novel then best have something interesting for them to work on - this is akin to writing about contemporary scientists doing research that doesn't know about the atom or DNA and claiming they're cutting edge and brilliant in today's scientific environment.
And don't even get me started on the cliché of sexual relationships between academics and students... DNF this at about 20%, too slow, too wrong, too irritating.
May 15, 2022
A toxic self-centered graduate student gets stalked and sabotaged by her toxic self-centered supervisor! But then she sabotages him back by scooping his attempt to scoop her with excavation material that neither has permission to publish about archaeological discoveries and analysis that she takes sole credit for even though she barely did any of the work of analysis that supports them!
This is basically The Da Vinci Code for people who think they are too smart for The Da Vinci Code but still want the thrill of getting clunky potted lectures about literature and history dropped into the middle of every page alongside deathless That-Guy-In-Your-MFA purple prose ("it struck her now how primal the rec letter had been", "It felt odd to see history so carnally represented–words cut into stone, original bricks in their masonic [sic] patterns.")
The worst thing about this book, though -- even more annoying than the not-quite-wrong-but-not-quite-right declamations about philology, Classics, and Roman poetry, the extremely-wrong portrayal of how academic fame and employment work, and the hilariously pedestrian readings of Ovid presented as unadulterated genius -- is the protagonist's brilliant discovery: It made me really angry and sank all of this stupid novel's pretensions to "accurate portrayals of academia."
This is basically The Da Vinci Code for people who think they are too smart for The Da Vinci Code but still want the thrill of getting clunky potted lectures about literature and history dropped into the middle of every page alongside deathless That-Guy-In-Your-MFA purple prose ("it struck her now how primal the rec letter had been", "It felt odd to see history so carnally represented–words cut into stone, original bricks in their masonic [sic] patterns.")
The worst thing about this book, though -- even more annoying than the not-quite-wrong-but-not-quite-right declamations about philology, Classics, and Roman poetry, the extremely-wrong portrayal of how academic fame and employment work, and the hilariously pedestrian readings of Ovid presented as unadulterated genius -- is the protagonist's brilliant discovery: It made me really angry and sank all of this stupid novel's pretensions to "accurate portrayals of academia."
January 8, 2022
Tessa is a doctoral candidate specializing in minor Roman poets. Her heavyweight advisor scuttles her future opportunities in a particularly devious manner. That’s the setup. What follows is a polished and sophisticated retelling of the the Daphne and Apollo myth. While not a novel for everyone, I was struck by the author’s handling of the minute and cryptic research details that came across as fascinating rather than tedious. This is a melding of the sublime and the savage. Who is the predator and who is the prey?
dnf
February 18, 2022While we're at it lets go ahead and toss this steaming pile of boredom on the trash heap as well.
I don't hate this book. I don't love this book. I have zero feelings about this book, because it has killed my soul. I am dead inside.
Time to move on.
I don't hate this book. I don't love this book. I have zero feelings about this book, because it has killed my soul. I am dead inside.
Time to move on.
February 24, 2022
The psychological depth of this novel is astonishing. On the surface of it, the plot is pure "dark academia" fetishism, set in Oxford among classicists who spend their days at the Bodleian. On the surface of it, this is a properly literary novel by an arty writer with an MFA and a lot of prestigious fellowships draped all over his bio, so by rights it should be another one of those slow-paced, boring, pretentious MFA novels full of politically-progressive didacticism, such as publishing houses these days seem to feel morally obligated to spew out. But no. It gradually becomes clear that this isn't even a novel, it's a seduction, a long intimacy that reads like a breath in your ear. In keeping with the running theme of the myth of Daphne and Apollo, I felt not just gripped by the story, but enveloped and immobilized in it, like Daphne rooted in the spreading bark of the laurel tree she metamorphoses into.
It's a story of obsessive love - a cautionary tale of how love can turn ugly, into manipulative, controlling, sabotaging, and abusive behavior. And it keeps doggedly asking the question of whether obsessive love is really love, or whether it's something else masquerading as love. The characters, both the man pursuing and the woman pursued, are by turns sympathetic and repellent, so if you need moral clarity and progressive purity, definitely look elsewhere. And one definitely needs a certain tolerance for academic abstruseness and Latin phrases tossed casually about to read this novel. It is an unapologetically, joyously show-offy book with respect to the author's learning and erudition. I'd say the underlying thematic structure is virtuosically, heart-rendingly beautiful and perfectly interlaced with every aspect of the plotting, prose, and dialogue, a structural masterpiece like the Bernini sculpture the author repeatedly refers to.
Some weaknesses: by the end you are kind of getting hit over the head with the relentless Daphne and Apollo references, and I didn't love how it ended - it felt a little too pat and perfect. And sometimes I felt like Tessa's reactions to Chris's controlling behavior were a little too much guided what the author felt like a women in her circumstance *ought* to feel - it might sound messed-up and awful, but I could have imagined her being even more forgiving of Chris, because in real life, this is kind of how abusive relationships seem to work - there's a certain romanticism in someone caring enough to want to be controlling. That's how people get sucked into these relationships, and a big part of why they stay. But that had to be a huge challenge of writing this book - getting the right balance between affection, attraction, fear, self-questioning, revulsion, realistic sadomasochistic impulses, and not turning off all those readers who yearn for moral clarity and progressive purity by suggesting that the woman somehow wanted it. I just love that the author was brave enough to take that on, even if I think he may have played it too safe and been too politically correct (which will probably still not be nearly enough to stave off the critics yearning for more political correctness).
Anyway, wow, I can imagine some people are going to hate this book, but I am just in awe.
It's a story of obsessive love - a cautionary tale of how love can turn ugly, into manipulative, controlling, sabotaging, and abusive behavior. And it keeps doggedly asking the question of whether obsessive love is really love, or whether it's something else masquerading as love. The characters, both the man pursuing and the woman pursued, are by turns sympathetic and repellent, so if you need moral clarity and progressive purity, definitely look elsewhere. And one definitely needs a certain tolerance for academic abstruseness and Latin phrases tossed casually about to read this novel. It is an unapologetically, joyously show-offy book with respect to the author's learning and erudition. I'd say the underlying thematic structure is virtuosically, heart-rendingly beautiful and perfectly interlaced with every aspect of the plotting, prose, and dialogue, a structural masterpiece like the Bernini sculpture the author repeatedly refers to.
Some weaknesses: by the end you are kind of getting hit over the head with the relentless Daphne and Apollo references, and I didn't love how it ended - it felt a little too pat and perfect. And sometimes I felt like Tessa's reactions to Chris's controlling behavior were a little too much guided what the author felt like a women in her circumstance *ought* to feel - it might sound messed-up and awful, but I could have imagined her being even more forgiving of Chris, because in real life, this is kind of how abusive relationships seem to work - there's a certain romanticism in someone caring enough to want to be controlling. That's how people get sucked into these relationships, and a big part of why they stay. But that had to be a huge challenge of writing this book - getting the right balance between affection, attraction, fear, self-questioning, revulsion, realistic sadomasochistic impulses, and not turning off all those readers who yearn for moral clarity and progressive purity by suggesting that the woman somehow wanted it. I just love that the author was brave enough to take that on, even if I think he may have played it too safe and been too politically correct (which will probably still not be nearly enough to stave off the critics yearning for more political correctness).
Anyway, wow, I can imagine some people are going to hate this book, but I am just in awe.
April 5, 2022
Inconsistent to the point of madness. This drove me crazy.
It started a bit clunkily (“Hello, this is exposition time”), but there was a nice turn of phrase on p.8; action really began on p.10, and I thought, “Okay, now, the author’s settled in.”
And sure enough, the next 90 percent of the book was good; parts were really good. I had three years of Latin in high school, and I was with my husband at Cambridge for the last year of his PhD, so the poetry, the translations, and the Oxbridge milieu were all exactly the sorts of things I like. They were also to a certain extent familiar, as was the subplot about taking care of a dying parent, and most of the descriptions rang true (with a few jarring exceptions I’ll come back to).
Then, the big dramatic climax of the book essentially takes place at an academic conference, another milieu I’ve spent time in, and one which is not generally known for drama. Yet it was written so well that when my husband tried to interrupt me at one point I snapped at him, “What?! I’m reading, and this is a big moment!” (I apologized afterwards, of course, but just the fact of my having been so engrossed that I was grouchy at the interruption speaks well for the book.)
But. Then, we reached the finale, and suddenly everything good fell away and was crushed under the weight of the dreadful, awful, terrible, really bad ending.
Insanity. Inanity. Psychologically grotesque, to an extreme I can’t even describe.
The last couple of pages were also ridiculous (departmental political reality being ignored to the point of fantasy), but by then it didn’t even matter anymore.
I was furious. I wanted to yell at the author, “How could you do this to me, to your readers? You’re better than this!” I had been talking about the book with a couple of friends, and I’d been saying good things, but then I had to warn them away, because I wouldn’t want anyone else to get thrown off the metaphorical cliff.
I’m also upset with, and frankly baffled by, the editing of this book. Norton, you're better than this! Not just the appalling ending (to which somebody really should have said, “Wow, hold up; this doesn’t work, at all”), but the copy editing and proofreading. I do this sort of work myself, and there were some real oddities here.
p. 16: There’s a jaw-droppingly weird hyphenation line-break issue, as a line breaks:
“…good-naturedl
y”
WTH? When one hyphenates, one does it at syllable breaks. One does not break the word-ending syllable “-ly,” and one absolutely does not have a single final letter start the next line.
p.108
“Chris pulled his carton of cigarettes from his sweatpants pocket and lit one.” [emphasis mine]
Those must be some sweatpants, because a cigarette carton typically holds 20 packs. (I know this because my mom was a smoker, and she usually kept a couple of cartons in the house.) I checked to be sure this was not a US/UK terminology issue, and it’s not.
p.171
“…signs reared their indecipherable messages in the plowing white beam of the headlight. She had splurged on a taxi back to Isola Sacra…” [emphasis mine]
This is a continuity error, because the signs wouldn’t be indecipherable to Tessa; she had spent time living in Rome as a student. Plus, she knows Latin.
p.253
“Why are you presenting architectural findings at a philological conference?” a voice in her head said. [emphasis mine]
Incorrect word choice, or possibly an autocorrect or spellcheck error; she was presenting archeological findings.
p.290
first line: “Tessa could foresee the fresh mud on the heels of her black slingbacks,…”
(then, later on the same page, there’s a reminder that she hasn't had access to her flat, so she's wearing the only shoes she had with her)
and then, bottom of p.293, top p.294
“…and he offered to take Tessa’s parka when she came in, carrying her flats...”.
Insert eyeroll emoji. If you're going to keep bringing up a detail, don't get it wrong.
To sum up: Blurgh. I feel like I’ve been the victim of publishing malpractice.
It started a bit clunkily (“Hello, this is exposition time”), but there was a nice turn of phrase on p.8; action really began on p.10, and I thought, “Okay, now, the author’s settled in.”
And sure enough, the next 90 percent of the book was good; parts were really good. I had three years of Latin in high school, and I was with my husband at Cambridge for the last year of his PhD, so the poetry, the translations, and the Oxbridge milieu were all exactly the sorts of things I like. They were also to a certain extent familiar, as was the subplot about taking care of a dying parent, and most of the descriptions rang true (with a few jarring exceptions I’ll come back to).
Then, the big dramatic climax of the book essentially takes place at an academic conference, another milieu I’ve spent time in, and one which is not generally known for drama. Yet it was written so well that when my husband tried to interrupt me at one point I snapped at him, “What?! I’m reading, and this is a big moment!” (I apologized afterwards, of course, but just the fact of my having been so engrossed that I was grouchy at the interruption speaks well for the book.)
But. Then, we reached the finale, and suddenly everything good fell away and was crushed under the weight of the dreadful, awful, terrible, really bad ending.
Insanity. Inanity. Psychologically grotesque, to an extreme I can’t even describe.
The last couple of pages were also ridiculous (departmental political reality being ignored to the point of fantasy), but by then it didn’t even matter anymore.
I was furious. I wanted to yell at the author, “How could you do this to me, to your readers? You’re better than this!” I had been talking about the book with a couple of friends, and I’d been saying good things, but then I had to warn them away, because I wouldn’t want anyone else to get thrown off the metaphorical cliff.
I’m also upset with, and frankly baffled by, the editing of this book. Norton, you're better than this! Not just the appalling ending (to which somebody really should have said, “Wow, hold up; this doesn’t work, at all”), but the copy editing and proofreading. I do this sort of work myself, and there were some real oddities here.
p. 16: There’s a jaw-droppingly weird hyphenation line-break issue, as a line breaks:
“…good-naturedl
y”
WTH? When one hyphenates, one does it at syllable breaks. One does not break the word-ending syllable “-ly,” and one absolutely does not have a single final letter start the next line.
p.108
“Chris pulled his carton of cigarettes from his sweatpants pocket and lit one.” [emphasis mine]
Those must be some sweatpants, because a cigarette carton typically holds 20 packs. (I know this because my mom was a smoker, and she usually kept a couple of cartons in the house.) I checked to be sure this was not a US/UK terminology issue, and it’s not.
p.171
“…signs reared their indecipherable messages in the plowing white beam of the headlight. She had splurged on a taxi back to Isola Sacra…” [emphasis mine]
This is a continuity error, because the signs wouldn’t be indecipherable to Tessa; she had spent time living in Rome as a student. Plus, she knows Latin.
p.253
“Why are you presenting architectural findings at a philological conference?” a voice in her head said. [emphasis mine]
Incorrect word choice, or possibly an autocorrect or spellcheck error; she was presenting archeological findings.
p.290
first line: “Tessa could foresee the fresh mud on the heels of her black slingbacks,…”
(then, later on the same page, there’s a reminder that she hasn't had access to her flat, so she's wearing the only shoes she had with her)
and then, bottom of p.293, top p.294
“…and he offered to take Tessa’s parka when she came in, carrying her flats...”.
Insert eyeroll emoji. If you're going to keep bringing up a detail, don't get it wrong.
To sum up: Blurgh. I feel like I’ve been the victim of publishing malpractice.
August 29, 2024
Something that's come to exhaust me about dark academia is its focus on interpersonal drama as opposed to institutional issues. This is a problem that, thankfully, The Latinist avoids.
Tessa's struggles in academia are grounded in the real and the mundane. She's unsure of her career path. She struggles with department funding. Her professor is charming but controlling, and his connections within Oxford are more powerful than her attempts to overcome them. The Latinist is saturated with the same kind of bleakness that settles over the least iconic parts of The Secret History: the long, gray winters where Richard can't afford heat and hopes for someone else to save him.
Chris's chapters provide a harsher counterpoint as he deals with his own grief and resentment towards his mother, as well as his panic that Tessa will evade him. While I think his perspective here is necessary, it starts to eclipse Tessa's story later in the book. When we get to the end and refocus on Tessa, her actions are shocking, violent, but ultimately cathartic.
A must-read for those who want their dark academia to reflect the actualities of the institution. You WILL read those conference presentations and you WILL follow Tessa as she grades student work.
Tessa's struggles in academia are grounded in the real and the mundane. She's unsure of her career path. She struggles with department funding. Her professor is charming but controlling, and his connections within Oxford are more powerful than her attempts to overcome them. The Latinist is saturated with the same kind of bleakness that settles over the least iconic parts of The Secret History: the long, gray winters where Richard can't afford heat and hopes for someone else to save him.
Chris's chapters provide a harsher counterpoint as he deals with his own grief and resentment towards his mother, as well as his panic that Tessa will evade him. While I think his perspective here is necessary, it starts to eclipse Tessa's story later in the book. When we get to the end and refocus on Tessa, her actions are shocking, violent, but ultimately cathartic.
A must-read for those who want their dark academia to reflect the actualities of the institution. You WILL read those conference presentations and you WILL follow Tessa as she grades student work.
December 3, 2021
I received a free digital review copy from the publisher, via Netgalley.
Author Mark Prins’s debut novel takes the myth of Apollo and Daphne and translates it to the relationship between Oxford doctoral candidate Tessa and her supervisor, Chris. Decent idea for an academic novel, but its execution didn’t work for me.
The biggest problem for me was the erratic characterization of Tessa. Yes, it’s understandable that in her position (no spoilers here) she would have some conflicted feelings. But here, she is all over the place and some of her actions seemed completely unbelievable to me. A secondary—but important—character, Lucrezia, is underdeveloped. It’s hard to get a sense of her.
There is a heavy dose of scholarly content here, which will likely be too much for anybody without a fairly level of interest in mythology. I found it to be too much at times. Speaking of too much, there is a long period in the second half of the book where the two lead characters are (separately) away from Oxford doing other things. This bogs down the plot. At least Tessa’s activities relate to the main plot, but Chris’s are entirely personal. It’s an attempt to illuminate his background and character, but it seemed like a stretch to me and not necessary to the plot.
Though I had a lot of problems with this novel, there is a solid story here.
Author Mark Prins’s debut novel takes the myth of Apollo and Daphne and translates it to the relationship between Oxford doctoral candidate Tessa and her supervisor, Chris. Decent idea for an academic novel, but its execution didn’t work for me.
The biggest problem for me was the erratic characterization of Tessa. Yes, it’s understandable that in her position (no spoilers here) she would have some conflicted feelings. But here, she is all over the place and some of her actions seemed completely unbelievable to me. A secondary—but important—character, Lucrezia, is underdeveloped. It’s hard to get a sense of her.
There is a heavy dose of scholarly content here, which will likely be too much for anybody without a fairly level of interest in mythology. I found it to be too much at times. Speaking of too much, there is a long period in the second half of the book where the two lead characters are (separately) away from Oxford doing other things. This bogs down the plot. At least Tessa’s activities relate to the main plot, but Chris’s are entirely personal. It’s an attempt to illuminate his background and character, but it seemed like a stretch to me and not necessary to the plot.
Though I had a lot of problems with this novel, there is a solid story here.
March 26, 2022
The principal character in Mark Prins’ The Latinist is an American graduate student at Oxford who is completing a doctoral thesis on Ovid’s Metamorphoses, a mythological epic on the theme of transformations in fifteen books. Tessa is writing on an episode in book 1, where the god Apollo finds Cupid playing with his bow and arrows.
Primus amor Phoebi Daphne Peneia, quem non
fors ignara dedit, sed saeva Cupidinis ira,
Delius hunc nuper, victa serpente superbus,
viderat adducto flectentem cornua nervo
'quid' que 'tibi, lascive puer, cum fortibus armis?'
dixerat: 'ista decent umeros gestamina nostros.
The god of archery, who has just slain the huge monster Python, reproves the god of love for transgressing his bailiwick, but Cupid displays his own skills and shoots Apollo with a golden arrow that inflames him with passion, and then strikes the nymph Daphne (Greek for laurel) with a leaden-tipped shaft that produces the opposite effect: she finds Apollo utterly repulsive. Daphne flees and the amorous Apollo pursues, but just as Apollo seizes her, the nymph cries out to her father, who happens to be a river god, to save her virginity, and she is transformed into a tree. Frustrated in his amorous quest, Apollo adopts the laurel as his favourite tree, making the laurel wreath the symbolic reward for artistic excellence.
Tessa maintains for her thesis that the word ‘love’ (amor) is ‘ironic’, but I expect she takes the notion of love more seriously than Ovid did himself: the Romans mostly regarded amorous affairs as a frivolous activity, except for Catullus, which is why he is so moving. The controlling attentions of her tutor and thesis supervisor Chris Eccles parallel those of Apollo for Daphne, but two other Ovidian myths ought to have been considered as well: they are the stories of Narcissus in book III and Pygmalion in book X. Chris thinks only of himself, and imagining he has fashioned the perfect acolyte, refuses to let Tessa go out into the world of academe away from Oxford. As she embarks on that dreary and too often fruitless via dolorosa ‘the job search’. Tessa finds that her director has sabotaged her effort, having written for her a confidential letter of recommendation so tepid that no department recruiting committee would touch her. Chris hopes to keep her as his research assistant – and mistress.
With that letter I ceased to believe in the story. I could imagine Chris so sleezy, but not so stupid. In my youth (which in my case is indeed quite antediluvian) a dissertation director (‘Father Doctor’ in German academic idiom) could indeed behave imperiously: I knew of a junior scholar at Princeton who was told quite out of the blue that he was going to Missouri! (Fortunately he ultimately ended up at Stanford.) But eminent scholars compete to place their pupils at the best institutions, so ruining Tessa’s career could scarcely do Chris any long-term good, evidence his Narcissism is out of control. And word would get out, as here it does.
While Tessa’s scholarly career is blocked, her current boyfriend is sequestered as a saturation diver under the North Sea. But her best friend Lucrezia, an archaeologist working in the Roman port of Ostia, has uncovered something of interest, a tomb associated with another of Tessa’s research projects (it’s always a good scholarly idea to have several irons in the fire), a second-century CE poet called Marius, who wrote in choriambs, a metre wrong-footing the reader. Chris tries to claim Tessa’s discoveries for himself, something not unheard of amongst senior professors though more common in the sciences than the humanities. (Not because humanists are more honourable, just because no one cares. No Nobel Prize for finding an unknown minor Latin poet.)
Though the setting is mostly English, Prins is an American who studied at both Williams College in Massachusetts and Exeter College, Oxford, before taking an MFA at the University of Iowa. Stylistically he writes in a mixture of British and American idiom: characters wear jumpers, trousers, and trainers, but Chris attaches a card to his door with Scotch Tape instead of Sello-tape and Tessa puts the conference paper on the podium – surely it would be easier to read from a lectern – and thinks normalcy a real word.
I had seen references to a Sulpicia in old editions of Persius and Juvenal but never bothered to learn who she was supposed to be, so I was delighted to find her worked into the story. Some readers complain about the technical details concerning Latin poetry but they are necessary for a believable story about Classical studies at the graduate level. Prins includes a useful appendix that explains to the reader what scholarship is authentic, and what is the author’s invention. As an amateur Latinist myself, I enjoyed this story, but found it fell short of Donna Tartt’s The Secret History. Tartt told an engaging story of Classics undergraduates trying to live out classical myths in their own lives, with all the terrifyingly cruel and excessive consequences the original Greek tragedians imagined. This book The Latinist reminds one too much of a quip of Nietzsche’s: Which would you prefer to look at, a statue of a Greek athlete, or a statue of a Classics professor? In this book, it’s the professors and their students, and they are mostly a silly and obsessive bunch.
Primus amor Phoebi Daphne Peneia, quem non
fors ignara dedit, sed saeva Cupidinis ira,
Delius hunc nuper, victa serpente superbus,
viderat adducto flectentem cornua nervo
'quid' que 'tibi, lascive puer, cum fortibus armis?'
dixerat: 'ista decent umeros gestamina nostros.
The god of archery, who has just slain the huge monster Python, reproves the god of love for transgressing his bailiwick, but Cupid displays his own skills and shoots Apollo with a golden arrow that inflames him with passion, and then strikes the nymph Daphne (Greek for laurel) with a leaden-tipped shaft that produces the opposite effect: she finds Apollo utterly repulsive. Daphne flees and the amorous Apollo pursues, but just as Apollo seizes her, the nymph cries out to her father, who happens to be a river god, to save her virginity, and she is transformed into a tree. Frustrated in his amorous quest, Apollo adopts the laurel as his favourite tree, making the laurel wreath the symbolic reward for artistic excellence.
Tessa maintains for her thesis that the word ‘love’ (amor) is ‘ironic’, but I expect she takes the notion of love more seriously than Ovid did himself: the Romans mostly regarded amorous affairs as a frivolous activity, except for Catullus, which is why he is so moving. The controlling attentions of her tutor and thesis supervisor Chris Eccles parallel those of Apollo for Daphne, but two other Ovidian myths ought to have been considered as well: they are the stories of Narcissus in book III and Pygmalion in book X. Chris thinks only of himself, and imagining he has fashioned the perfect acolyte, refuses to let Tessa go out into the world of academe away from Oxford. As she embarks on that dreary and too often fruitless via dolorosa ‘the job search’. Tessa finds that her director has sabotaged her effort, having written for her a confidential letter of recommendation so tepid that no department recruiting committee would touch her. Chris hopes to keep her as his research assistant – and mistress.
With that letter I ceased to believe in the story. I could imagine Chris so sleezy, but not so stupid. In my youth (which in my case is indeed quite antediluvian) a dissertation director (‘Father Doctor’ in German academic idiom) could indeed behave imperiously: I knew of a junior scholar at Princeton who was told quite out of the blue that he was going to Missouri! (Fortunately he ultimately ended up at Stanford.) But eminent scholars compete to place their pupils at the best institutions, so ruining Tessa’s career could scarcely do Chris any long-term good, evidence his Narcissism is out of control. And word would get out, as here it does.
While Tessa’s scholarly career is blocked, her current boyfriend is sequestered as a saturation diver under the North Sea. But her best friend Lucrezia, an archaeologist working in the Roman port of Ostia, has uncovered something of interest, a tomb associated with another of Tessa’s research projects (it’s always a good scholarly idea to have several irons in the fire), a second-century CE poet called Marius, who wrote in choriambs, a metre wrong-footing the reader. Chris tries to claim Tessa’s discoveries for himself, something not unheard of amongst senior professors though more common in the sciences than the humanities. (Not because humanists are more honourable, just because no one cares. No Nobel Prize for finding an unknown minor Latin poet.)
Though the setting is mostly English, Prins is an American who studied at both Williams College in Massachusetts and Exeter College, Oxford, before taking an MFA at the University of Iowa. Stylistically he writes in a mixture of British and American idiom: characters wear jumpers, trousers, and trainers, but Chris attaches a card to his door with Scotch Tape instead of Sello-tape and Tessa puts the conference paper on the podium – surely it would be easier to read from a lectern – and thinks normalcy a real word.
I had seen references to a Sulpicia in old editions of Persius and Juvenal but never bothered to learn who she was supposed to be, so I was delighted to find her worked into the story. Some readers complain about the technical details concerning Latin poetry but they are necessary for a believable story about Classical studies at the graduate level. Prins includes a useful appendix that explains to the reader what scholarship is authentic, and what is the author’s invention. As an amateur Latinist myself, I enjoyed this story, but found it fell short of Donna Tartt’s The Secret History. Tartt told an engaging story of Classics undergraduates trying to live out classical myths in their own lives, with all the terrifyingly cruel and excessive consequences the original Greek tragedians imagined. This book The Latinist reminds one too much of a quip of Nietzsche’s: Which would you prefer to look at, a statue of a Greek athlete, or a statue of a Classics professor? In this book, it’s the professors and their students, and they are mostly a silly and obsessive bunch.
January 30, 2022
Check out my blog here
“Love is the cause of my pursuit.”
I stand firm in my belief that the best books are the ones that make you uncomfortable. This goes for any genre, be it literary fiction, fantasy, romance, whatever. Narrative tension is difficult to achieve and convey effectively, but I believe that every book needs it to truly thrive. It adds spice! If a book doesn’t make me feel something and feel it viscerally, then it will never earn my praise. The Latinist by Mark Prins did more than enough to earn my praise, my love.
In The Latinist, we follow Tessa Templeton, a Ph.D. candidate at Oxford University. What does she study? Why, classics, of course! Would it be a (successful) foray into the dark academia sub-genre if the main character wasn’t studying something a little obscure and bizarre like classics? Nope! As someone who has a bizarre and basically useless degree in philosophy myself, I love reading about others who don’t want jobs after graduating. Anyway, back to The Latinist! Tessa is supremely talented, and she has a mentor named Christopher Eccles who’s at the top of the field. He has supported her for her entire graduate career, and they have developed a close personal and professional relationship. But there’s the tiny problem of her not getting any offers from any of the universities she’s applied to for employment after she gets her Ph.D. She then receives an anonymous email containing the recommendation letter that Chris sent to all the schools she applied to, and it is most definitely not the letter she expected him to send. He is the reason that she hasn’t heard from anyone, and he’s maneuvered things to where the only place she can work is at Oxford, with him. He’s under the impression that he’s in love with her, and he’ll do anything to prove it to her. Anything. This is a modern retelling of the Daphne and Apollo myth, and Prins really went there. The drama’s in the chase, and where it ends up is totally unexpected.
Oh, man. This was damn near perfect. I’m not going to go into the writing itself; Prins has credentials most of us would kill for—the writing is superb. No, what I’m going to talk about is that precious narrative tension that I mentioned at the beginning of this review. The tension in this book was high! I mean, going into the book you already know what Christopher has done—it’s stated right there on the book jacket. It happens very early in the book, but you as a reader spend those pages with your teeth gritted in anticipation. To protect that heart-pounding feeling of anticipation, I won’t tell you exactly when the betrayal is found out: I want you to experience it yourself! I knew it was coming but my jaw still dropped as I read the letter. It’s truly petty and sickening and I loved it. I read it three times! It was truly unbelievable and made all the more sinister when you consider that she was not supposed to see it and Chris was banking on that. I found myself truly angry for her! I remember saying on Goodreads that I hoped she killed Chris lol. The ensuing novel-length back-and-forth between Tessa and Chris after she finds out was entertaining, frustrating, sad, and, you guessed it, intense. I see-sawed between loving Tessa and wanting to shake her, from hating Chris to sympathizing with him. This was a slow-burn academic thriller filled to the brim with Latin, history, and poetry, some real and some fictional. When I wasn’t stressed out with the Chris-induced cringe of the main story, I was in awe of the level of detail afforded to the worldbuilding. Can you have worldbuilding in something that’s not fantasy or sci-fi? I don’t know, but I’m keeping it lol you know what I mean! The dark academia themes were dense and pretentious (in a good way!), introspective, and just immaculate. The exploration of morality (or lack thereof), obsession, boundaries, academic integrity, and personal agency really amped up the tension, and they all swirled together to create a truly engaging read.
In the novel, Tessa is on the brink of many things: finding her voice, a groundbreaking academic discovery, sticking up for herself in her family and making a name for herself in academia outside of Chris’s shadow. We see her fight to do these things while under the gross threat of Chris and his sinister, misplaced obsession, and up until the last section we aren’t at all sure how she’s going to succeed. There’s always the looming possibility that she won’t. Everything is stacked against her, at every turn. If you’re familiar with the inspiring myth, Daphne gets the short end of the stick (haha). Prins uses his inspiration deftly, and Tessa is the perfect modern embodiment of Daphne. I finished The Latinist with my eyebrows raised, in shock. Why? Go get you a copy and find out!
“Love is the cause of my pursuit.”
I stand firm in my belief that the best books are the ones that make you uncomfortable. This goes for any genre, be it literary fiction, fantasy, romance, whatever. Narrative tension is difficult to achieve and convey effectively, but I believe that every book needs it to truly thrive. It adds spice! If a book doesn’t make me feel something and feel it viscerally, then it will never earn my praise. The Latinist by Mark Prins did more than enough to earn my praise, my love.
In The Latinist, we follow Tessa Templeton, a Ph.D. candidate at Oxford University. What does she study? Why, classics, of course! Would it be a (successful) foray into the dark academia sub-genre if the main character wasn’t studying something a little obscure and bizarre like classics? Nope! As someone who has a bizarre and basically useless degree in philosophy myself, I love reading about others who don’t want jobs after graduating. Anyway, back to The Latinist! Tessa is supremely talented, and she has a mentor named Christopher Eccles who’s at the top of the field. He has supported her for her entire graduate career, and they have developed a close personal and professional relationship. But there’s the tiny problem of her not getting any offers from any of the universities she’s applied to for employment after she gets her Ph.D. She then receives an anonymous email containing the recommendation letter that Chris sent to all the schools she applied to, and it is most definitely not the letter she expected him to send. He is the reason that she hasn’t heard from anyone, and he’s maneuvered things to where the only place she can work is at Oxford, with him. He’s under the impression that he’s in love with her, and he’ll do anything to prove it to her. Anything. This is a modern retelling of the Daphne and Apollo myth, and Prins really went there. The drama’s in the chase, and where it ends up is totally unexpected.
Oh, man. This was damn near perfect. I’m not going to go into the writing itself; Prins has credentials most of us would kill for—the writing is superb. No, what I’m going to talk about is that precious narrative tension that I mentioned at the beginning of this review. The tension in this book was high! I mean, going into the book you already know what Christopher has done—it’s stated right there on the book jacket. It happens very early in the book, but you as a reader spend those pages with your teeth gritted in anticipation. To protect that heart-pounding feeling of anticipation, I won’t tell you exactly when the betrayal is found out: I want you to experience it yourself! I knew it was coming but my jaw still dropped as I read the letter. It’s truly petty and sickening and I loved it. I read it three times! It was truly unbelievable and made all the more sinister when you consider that she was not supposed to see it and Chris was banking on that. I found myself truly angry for her! I remember saying on Goodreads that I hoped she killed Chris lol. The ensuing novel-length back-and-forth between Tessa and Chris after she finds out was entertaining, frustrating, sad, and, you guessed it, intense. I see-sawed between loving Tessa and wanting to shake her, from hating Chris to sympathizing with him. This was a slow-burn academic thriller filled to the brim with Latin, history, and poetry, some real and some fictional. When I wasn’t stressed out with the Chris-induced cringe of the main story, I was in awe of the level of detail afforded to the worldbuilding. Can you have worldbuilding in something that’s not fantasy or sci-fi? I don’t know, but I’m keeping it lol you know what I mean! The dark academia themes were dense and pretentious (in a good way!), introspective, and just immaculate. The exploration of morality (or lack thereof), obsession, boundaries, academic integrity, and personal agency really amped up the tension, and they all swirled together to create a truly engaging read.
In the novel, Tessa is on the brink of many things: finding her voice, a groundbreaking academic discovery, sticking up for herself in her family and making a name for herself in academia outside of Chris’s shadow. We see her fight to do these things while under the gross threat of Chris and his sinister, misplaced obsession, and up until the last section we aren’t at all sure how she’s going to succeed. There’s always the looming possibility that she won’t. Everything is stacked against her, at every turn. If you’re familiar with the inspiring myth, Daphne gets the short end of the stick (haha). Prins uses his inspiration deftly, and Tessa is the perfect modern embodiment of Daphne. I finished The Latinist with my eyebrows raised, in shock. Why? Go get you a copy and find out!
October 2, 2021
Sharply drawn character studies are interwoven in The Latinist with mutual desire, intense ambition, and dangerous obsessions. The refined life of Oxford dons and their PhD proteges is an object of scrutiny as much as the fragments of ancient words and the bones of ancient bodies. Rising above tropes of the kind littering the machinations of protagonists and antagonists in an Inspector Morse (or Lewis or Endeavor) mystery series, or the effete vampires in The Discovery of Witches, author Prins bends the lens so the reader is privileged to view the dark violence of the most beneficial of relationships, the mentor and mentee. As the ground shifts under assumptions made in past and present, the reader is treated to a delicious unveiling of facts—the young and old, modern and ancient plunder the work of one another to further their own aims. Beautiful locales and perfectly rendered details are eclipsed by the intricate twists of word and action in this tale of lust for the life of the mind, the triumph of ambition, and double-edged sword of love.
November 27, 2021
For those who did not like the book and stopped reading early on, you really have to get through the first ~150 pages. It really has My Dark Vanessa, vibes until the second half of the book. Until this point, I didn't understand how people could compare this to The Da Vinci Code. The second half is much more engaging and exhilarating. The climax is really well-written and had me staying up late to finish the book.
The book has many references to Roman (and Greek) mythology and literary works. During the first half, this made the book drag on a bit. With a lot of details about the main character's relationships, it felt like long, drawn out exposition.
The second half of the book really picks up. It sheds light into the world of professorship and research, with plenty of drama. The references now start to make more sense and it seems much more realistic and believable than a giant conspiracy like The Da Vinci Code.
Overall, an enjoyable read. Thanks for the ARC.
The book has many references to Roman (and Greek) mythology and literary works. During the first half, this made the book drag on a bit. With a lot of details about the main character's relationships, it felt like long, drawn out exposition.
The second half of the book really picks up. It sheds light into the world of professorship and research, with plenty of drama. The references now start to make more sense and it seems much more realistic and believable than a giant conspiracy like The Da Vinci Code.
Overall, an enjoyable read. Thanks for the ARC.
December 26, 2021
I'm not sure who's writing that this is like The Secret History and The DaVinci Code, or Possession, because it's not. This is a bog-standard academic mystery, with a young mentee surpassing her controlling male mentor. Yes, it's a take on the Daphne and Adonis story, and the Latin translations and discussions are kind of fun. But--and this is a big but--it's been done before in other books. Getting both Chris and Tessa's POVs helps a little, although Chris doesn't seem to be as complex as he could have been. Tessa is naive at times, annoyingly so.
Having said all that, there's a lot to enjoy here (especially for those who enjoyed Ovid or who love the "update the classics" genre).
eARC provided by publisher via Edelweiss.
Having said all that, there's a lot to enjoy here (especially for those who enjoyed Ovid or who love the "update the classics" genre).
eARC provided by publisher via Edelweiss.
October 19, 2022
I really, really wanted to love this book. Dark academia is my wheel house and combined with Latin, archeology, and Italy… ugh the potential. I did like some parts of this book but the last 40 or so pages ruined it for me. Also, this author does not know how to write women. It’s gross and I’m over it. I should’ve heavily sympathized with Tessa but I severely struggled to do so. Skip this and read a better dark academia-like book.
May 8, 2025
They said the book was dumb but I loved it😆
December 3, 2021
I could not put this book down. The characters are perfectly dark, complex and real. The author’s impressive research and depth of knowledge of Classics is seamlessly woven into the narrative. The ending left my thinking about this book long after I finished. Highly highly recommend!
February 7, 2022
I am giving up on another novel. Just can’t bear the pretentious, self-indulgent writing style, nor the dumb and/or evil, crazed characters.
October 13, 2021
In the past year, I think Norton has given me some of my favorite books. This is the first Norton or World Editions novel I’ve read in a long time that didn’t succeed for me. It is an expressly ambitious story for a debut novelist, and the author fell into some of the freshman traps of writing. Despite his lovely handling of the Latin language and the themes of Daphne and Apollo woven into the characters of Tessa and Christopher, I felt that the narrative was a bit self-conscious and too clever for its own good. I chose to read it based on falling in love with the Bernini sculptures I saw at the Borghese Gallery in Rome. Prins certainly nailed the potential meaning of the art, as well as showing us that interpretation can be blind, even the accepted ones in academia.
Prins is thorough with creating characters, and his theme of love v possession was intriguing. The author aimed to parallel the Apollo/Daphne relationship with a contemporary one in scholarly echo chambers. However, it took too long for lift-off--the story was protracted and needed another run-through/edit to skim the fat and smooth it out. The climactic scene, also, may be improved if they made a movie version, but the execution here was too contrived, and frankly turned my stomach. I don’t mind being revolted, but I was more disgusted than engaged. It felt excessive by the end, with a finale that was hammy and incredulous.
Also, the author was all over the place with Chris’ character, the head of the Humanities/Classics department at Westfaling School at Oxford, and Tessa’s mentor. His nature wasn’t consistent, and the author would undermine himself by changing Chris’ personality to move the plot in a certain direction. I felt that the violence in the last third of the book was artificially discharged. However, Prins can write, and he’s also capable of using his imagination. I would have been more engaged if the narrative was a bit more polished.
Thank you to BookBrowse and Norton for sending me an ARC for review.
Prins is thorough with creating characters, and his theme of love v possession was intriguing. The author aimed to parallel the Apollo/Daphne relationship with a contemporary one in scholarly echo chambers. However, it took too long for lift-off--the story was protracted and needed another run-through/edit to skim the fat and smooth it out. The climactic scene, also, may be improved if they made a movie version, but the execution here was too contrived, and frankly turned my stomach. I don’t mind being revolted, but I was more disgusted than engaged. It felt excessive by the end, with a finale that was hammy and incredulous.
Also, the author was all over the place with Chris’ character, the head of the Humanities/Classics department at Westfaling School at Oxford, and Tessa’s mentor. His nature wasn’t consistent, and the author would undermine himself by changing Chris’ personality to move the plot in a certain direction. I felt that the violence in the last third of the book was artificially discharged. However, Prins can write, and he’s also capable of using his imagination. I would have been more engaged if the narrative was a bit more polished.
Thank you to BookBrowse and Norton for sending me an ARC for review.
January 10, 2022
I struggled a bit with The Latinist because it reads very academic and pedantic. I suspect those who work in academia or are Classics majors/Latinists will enjoy the writing style and references more so than I. There were multiple sections where I had a difficult time following. I also found the writing style to be too dense and lacking in emotion. However, I am familiar with the story of Daphne and Apollo and I did like how this book is a contemporary retelling of it set in academia. I am also very satisfied with how the story concluded. Overall, The Latinist is an interesting yet very esoteric read. It certainly won’t appeal to everyone.
Want to read
April 28, 2022finally reading this dark academia book at the most appropriate time of my life: sleep deprived, stressed, obsessive, crying, and screaming over my final assignments as i wrap up the last two weeks of my university career. (my eye is twitching) chaotic academia at its finest.
----------
can this shitty year hurry up and be over so we can welcome in 2022 and books that are blurbed as being "in the vein of A.S. Byatt and Patricia Highsmith" with young Americans in Oxford, relationships with suspicious manipulative mentors, obscure 2nd-century Latin poets, and basically be the most interesting sounding book on my tbr list !!!
i'd kill for this book.
----------
can this shitty year hurry up and be over so we can welcome in 2022 and books that are blurbed as being "in the vein of A.S. Byatt and Patricia Highsmith" with young Americans in Oxford, relationships with suspicious manipulative mentors, obscure 2nd-century Latin poets, and basically be the most interesting sounding book on my tbr list !!!
i'd kill for this book.
October 5, 2021
The prose in this novel is truly nothing short of extraordinary.
The author has weaved a tale of love, destruction, sabotage, and discovery through the voices of two very distinct narrators with elegance and masterful skill. Having felt transported to an Oxford quad, to Ancient Rome, and back again, once I started the novel, I could not stop.
The author has weaved a tale of love, destruction, sabotage, and discovery through the voices of two very distinct narrators with elegance and masterful skill. Having felt transported to an Oxford quad, to Ancient Rome, and back again, once I started the novel, I could not stop.
January 16, 2024
mark prins probably could have been a mildly successful fanfiction writer on wattpad but thought himself too much of an intellectual and instead produced this horribly researched, incapable of conceptualizing a woman, half ass, corny crap
March 2, 2022
In awe of this novel! I absolutely devoured the story. Incredible writing, sharply drawn characters, and a very health of dose of suspense and thrill. Couldn’t put it down.
January 9, 2022
Brilliant. A novel that takes patience and thought to come to light but ends in a rapturous finale. Bravo to the debut author!
January 19, 2022
HUGE disappointment!
August 12, 2022
bad, and actually infuriatingly bad! lacking in suspense, but objectively hilarious because of all the lukewarm classics takes.
April 5, 2023
The Latinist is a fine example of a Dark Academia book.
This book tells the story of Tessa and her advisor Chris, and their toxic relationship. Tessa is almost finished with her doctorate at Oxford and hopeful to get her academic career going at a different institution. The premise of the book starts when Chris writes a hideous recommendation letter for Tessa, essentially sabotaging her prospects. Tessa receives said letter and is more than shocked, and I found this aspect of the book to be constructed perfectly. The betrayal and fear she feels because she is so dependant of this other person, and to realize that he could have treated her like that. And perhaps the most unfair part of it all is that she is a stellar academic, with a tremendous CV and fellowships and she and Chris have a great relationship, her work is the prime of her field, so the question remains, why would he write such a letter?
Tessa is a Latinist, a student of the classics, particularly of the Latin language and of ancient texts. She is very interested in the myth of Apollo and Daphne and as the reader goes through the story is impossible not to notice the parallels and the way this myth mirrors the relationship between Tessa and Chris. I found this to be one of the most incredible aspects of this novel, and the way the author conducted the story to reach its climax left me nothing short of awed.
This book is written in dual pov, and although I find in interesting to the construction of the narrative to have Chris’s pov, sometimes his inner monologues were a bit tiresome. Nevertheless, Chris is convinced that he is love with Tessa and therefore wants to keep her by his side at all costs.
The obsession, the willingness to do anything for academia, the emotionally exhausting relationship of Tessa and Chris, the academic interest which is very very present in the story and could be a bit annoying to the uninterested reader, the gothic atmosphere of Oxford, the academic conferences, the academic food-chain, the intense pressure and demands of academia that make you question if you made the right choice to be in it or you wasted your life away, it is all in here. Including death, in more than one way. I am so happy that I finally read this book (because yes, I did receive it as an arc but ended up not making my way through it until now) and that it is such a strong specimen of the Dark Academia genre.
The ending of the book particularly left me feeling totally satisfied and with a smile on my lips. It made me want to shout, this is what dark academia is all about!
So if any of what I said here has interested you, or if you are looking for different recommendations of Dark Academia books, then look no further because The Latinist might be just what you need.
↠ 5 stars✨
This book tells the story of Tessa and her advisor Chris, and their toxic relationship. Tessa is almost finished with her doctorate at Oxford and hopeful to get her academic career going at a different institution. The premise of the book starts when Chris writes a hideous recommendation letter for Tessa, essentially sabotaging her prospects. Tessa receives said letter and is more than shocked, and I found this aspect of the book to be constructed perfectly. The betrayal and fear she feels because she is so dependant of this other person, and to realize that he could have treated her like that. And perhaps the most unfair part of it all is that she is a stellar academic, with a tremendous CV and fellowships and she and Chris have a great relationship, her work is the prime of her field, so the question remains, why would he write such a letter?
Tessa is a Latinist, a student of the classics, particularly of the Latin language and of ancient texts. She is very interested in the myth of Apollo and Daphne and as the reader goes through the story is impossible not to notice the parallels and the way this myth mirrors the relationship between Tessa and Chris. I found this to be one of the most incredible aspects of this novel, and the way the author conducted the story to reach its climax left me nothing short of awed.
Christopher Eccles’s office at Westfaling College loomed over the cloisters where Tessa sometimes held tutorials, when the weather suited, and now as she listened to her student read from her paper on Ovid’s Metamorphoses and the recurring theme of gods exploiting mortals, a cigarette butt dropped into the quadrangle a few feet from them, where it lay in the grass, used and smoking.
This book is written in dual pov, and although I find in interesting to the construction of the narrative to have Chris’s pov, sometimes his inner monologues were a bit tiresome. Nevertheless, Chris is convinced that he is love with Tessa and therefore wants to keep her by his side at all costs.
The obsession, the willingness to do anything for academia, the emotionally exhausting relationship of Tessa and Chris, the academic interest which is very very present in the story and could be a bit annoying to the uninterested reader, the gothic atmosphere of Oxford, the academic conferences, the academic food-chain, the intense pressure and demands of academia that make you question if you made the right choice to be in it or you wasted your life away, it is all in here. Including death, in more than one way. I am so happy that I finally read this book (because yes, I did receive it as an arc but ended up not making my way through it until now) and that it is such a strong specimen of the Dark Academia genre.
The ending of the book particularly left me feeling totally satisfied and with a smile on my lips. It made me want to shout, this is what dark academia is all about!
So if any of what I said here has interested you, or if you are looking for different recommendations of Dark Academia books, then look no further because The Latinist might be just what you need.
↠ 5 stars✨
Displaying 1 - 30 of 634 reviews