First there was a book. In 1992 Donna Tartt gave us the the college novel and the story of a closely knit group of six classics students at a small, elite Vermont college. Then it was inspiration and desire to share it. Welcome to “The Secret Story” dream casting blog, containing all things related to "The Secret Story" as we see it.
“It's a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely?"
The Secret History - Charles and Camilla
“And then there were a pair, boy and girl. I saw them together a great deal, and at first I thought they were boyfriend and girlfriend, until one day I saw them up close and realized they had to be siblings. Later I learned they were twins. 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. And perhaps most unusual in the context of Hampden—where pseudo-intellects and teenage decadents abounded, and where black clothing was de rigueur— they liked to wear pale clothes, particularly white. In this swarm of cigarettes and dark sophistication they appeared here and there like figures from an allegory, or long-dead celebrants from some forgotten garden party.”
the beast you’ve made of me - a charles/camilla mix.
i. we all complete - never let me go ost. | ii. plain sailing weather - frank turner. | iii. howl - florence + the machine. | iv. skinny love - bon iver. | v. tristan and iseult - tarkio. | vi. coming second - elbow. | vii. without permission - the national. | vii. can’t stand me now - the libertines. | ix. my blood - ellie goulding.
Camilla Macaulay - The Secret History.
We had just got our coats off when the light in Camilla’s room came on and she appeared in the hallway, blinking, cheeks aflame. “Charles? What are you doing here?” she said when she saw me.
Rather incoherently, Charles explained what had happened. With a drowsy forearm she shielded her eyes from the light and listened. She was wearing a man’s nightshirt, much too big for her, and I found myself staring at her bare legs - tawny calves, slender ankles, lovely, dusty-soled boy-feet.
she seemed not at all her bright unattainable self but rather a hazy and ineffably tender apparition, all slender wrists and shadows and disordered hair
Henry Winter and Camilla Macaulay
Pluto and Persephone.
I looked at his back, prim as a parson’s, tried to imagine the two of them together.
And then there were a pair, boy and girl. I saw them together a great deal, and at first I thought they were boyfriend and girlfriend, until one day I saw them up close and realized they had to be siblings. Later I learned they were twins. 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. And perhaps most unusual in the context of Hampden—where pseudo-intellects and teenage decadents abounded, and where black clothing was de regueur— they liked to wear pale clothes, particularly white. In this swarm of cigarettes and dark sophistication they appeared here and there like figures from an allegory, or long-dead celebrants from some forgotten garden party.
So much of this inspired the Savage twins - the same colouring as if to be identical, apart from their sex. An absolute easiness in being and moving together. I don’t think I had actually experienced such characters before Donna Tartt.
I remember reading the scene where Charles kisses Camilla on the lips and being as shocked as Richard. Their relationship was subtle and natural enough up to that point that I was still unsure as to the true nature of it. Eventually, I was left thinking, does it matter? Those were my favourite moments when writing with Jamie, playing around with intangible boundaries.
Side by side, they were very much alike, in similarity less of lineament than of manner and bearing, a correspondence of gesture which bounced and echoed between them so that a blink seemed to reverberate, moments later, in a twitch of the other’s eyelid. Their eyes were the same color of gray, intelligent and calm.
The Secret History, Donna Tartt
“How do you feel?”
“Fabulous,” said Charles, padding into the kitchen, his moist feet tracking prints that evaporated instantly on the shiny, tomato-red linoleum. He came up behind her and laid his hands on her shoulders; bending low, he put his lips close to the nape of her neck. “How about a kiss for your jailbird brother?” he said.
She turned halfway, as if to touch her lips to his cheek, but he slid a palm down her back and tipped her face up to his and kissed her full on the mouth - not a brotherly kiss, there was no mistaking it for that, but a long, slow, greedy kiss, messy and voluptuous. His bathrobe fell slightly open as his left hand sank from her chin to neck, collarbone, base of throat, his fingertips just inside the edge of her thin polka-dot shirt and trembling over the warm skin there.
Post #26, In which : I try for the twins!
Charles y Camilla con lavender y forget-me-nots.
(is it bad that Charles might be prettier than Camilla here?)
