The Great Divorce
There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, “Thy will be done,” and
Study as a lens. Language as a tool. Thought as a thread. Across cultures and into meaning.
Study as a lens. Language as a tool. Thought as a thread. Across cultures and into meaning.
The salt-scented quadrangles of St Andrews University greet misfit first-year student Finn Nethercott with indifference. It is a place where privilege counts, and those from the right backgrounds can get away with murder.
C.F. Barrington
Where to begin with this one. This book felt like if Colleen Hoover had a go at the dark academia genre, and the energy that made gave off 2015 Wattpad angst.
Now I can perfectly acknowledge I am 1000% a literary snob, and I do hold a rather high bar, but this book repeatedly nagged at me so much that I truly could not justify giving it a higher rating.
First things first— for a ‘dark academia‘ piece, this book is severely lacking the ‘academia’. Our protagonist, Finn Nethercott, is an agnostic (kind of) Divinity major at St Andrews University in Scotland. Amidst his two Divinity course peers, he labels himself as a misfit (because he’s not a stereotypical good God-fearing Christian) and instead becomes friends with a new cohort of students, all of whom hold an intense interest in Nordic history and their Scottish roots. (Side note to mention that he’s not really a misfit anyways, he develops a good friendship with both of his course mates, never actually has much contention with them, and they treat him incredibly kindly, so this ‘misfit’ label is entirely self-ascribed.)
Now, originally reading this, I was quite interested in the plot potential here. This set up an avenue to explore the difference in religious doctrine & practice between historical Christendom and its clash with Paganism. For a Divinity major who doesn’t conform to traditional Christian beliefs, this would have set up an excellent point of tension between our protagonist and the other characters.
Sadly, this never gets developed. Instead, what the audience is given is random blurbs of information (where one character essentially just recounts one or two historical facts that sounds like they are reciting from a drilling manual), and mentions of the fact that Finn is maintaining his studies. The relevance of his major and his field of study plays pretty much no role into the plot remotely, and the most we hear about this is various topics he’s supposed to be writing essays about throughout his coursework. There is no further elaboration on this either, we don’t hear any arguments or even opinions on where characters stand on these ideas, so why this is mentioned remains irrelevant throughout the novel.
This brings me to my next point, which is the regarding the academia that IS mentioned— is not always right, or pretty poorly explained. The way the information is pitched to the audience has led me to believe Barrington had very clearly not done enough research to be speaking about various theological points, which leads me to ask why this was the specific niche he’s chosen to sequester his novel to, particularly when much of the theology is not even relevant to the plot? While I cannot speak for the information of Nordic history in this novel, if it is anything like the flakes of theology the audience is fed, I would be hesitant to learn anything from it.
For example, one of the Christian characters in this novel explicitly states that they are Baptist. However, later when discussing alcohol, there’s a mention of believing Christ’s flesh and blood have become the bread and wine during the Eucharist— which Baptists do not affirm. Maybe I am being nitpicky because I am very interested in doctrinal differences within the Church, but contention of transubstantiation is not only a significant point across many Protestant denominations, but one which separates Protestant churches from the Catholic Church— and a simple Google is all it takes to reveal as much.
This happening once or maybe even twice throughout a novel is something irksome but understandable, but when this repeatedly occurs in a novel which is literally marketed as having an academic focus as one of its selling points is very disappointing. And while I certainly was very disappointed at the lack of depth or exploration relating to theology, this is not just a complaint in that area. Finn’s friends who are apparently ‘obsessed’ with Nordic history aren’t really— they use events in the Nordic calendar as an excuse to go into the woods and get high.
Next, let’s mention the fact that none of these characters have depth in this novel. Not a single one. Finn’s new circle of friends (referred to as ‘the clan’) remain unbelievably one-dimensional throughout the novel. Some of these characters genuinely have no backstory (looking at Laurie and Madri) and no real motivation for anything they are doing throughout the novel (looking at Laurie again, Hope, and honestly even Finn. Why is he even interested in this group?) Finn’s two course mates are ridiculously stereotypical Christian tropes— characters who are always dressed incredibly formally, socially awkward from having never experienced staying out later than their 9pm bedtime, and have never blinked in the direction of an alcoholic beverage save for communion.
In my final points of things to mention— the climax of the plot. Recall how plot climax rises to an intensity point, bridging together the bubbling points of contention throughout the novel? Well, what if instead of that we get a narration of a drug trip and then after the apparent intensity of everything that we don’t get to see blows over, we get a summary of what happened told to us? Because that’s what happens. Rewarding.
The last point I would like to mention, and the most significant factor of why I went from thinking this book was just not great to actively disliking this book— is the unjustified romanticisation of self-harm. Finn (who narrates this story in first person) is incredibly angsty throughout this novel and repeatedly mentioning that he’s had a difficult life that sets him apart from everyone else. Multiple times, he mentions having scars on his arms— seemingly just for the sake of mentioning it— and for a character who repeatedly says multiple times that he doesn’t want to talk about his past or his pain, he sure likes to mention how much he doesn’t want to talk about it. Moreover, when Madri first realises this about Finn, her active response is “Oh, so you’ve got stories,” (WHO ON EARTH WOULD EVER SAY THIS TO SOMEONE IN A SITUATION LIKE THIS?!) and then later asks Finn to explain this backstory in front of everyone in the Clan.
My word, talk about damaging. The entirety of self-harm throughout this novel carries an unwritten message that self-harm equates to getting attention and being special, which is an unbelievably ridiculous message to carry in a novel.
This review has gone on long enough, and while I certainly have more things that left me incredibly frustrated and disappointed with this read, I’ve already written enough at this point. No, I would not recommend this novel for folks interested in the dark academia genre, or interested in many other genres for that matter. It really carried a feel that the author was hopping onto a growing trend of popular literature, without putting any much thought or nuance into how they would or should go about doing so.
Overall Rating: 1.5/5
Would I Recommend? No
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