An onslaught of white as far as your eyes can see. Freezing, you trudge your way through heaps of snow. Yet the blindingly beautiful scene masks a treacherous murder, as you and other Vermonters discover 10 days later.

Donna Tartt’s “The Secret History” carries one theme throughout: Beauty is terror, and the incessant pursuit of beauty, whether through constructing a certain persona or chasing a sensory experience, leads to evil. As an artist, I personally have struggled with perfectionism and often obsess over the aesthetics of my work. Though far more extreme, the protagonists of Tartt’s novel and their descent into respective Jungian night-sea-journeys demonstrate the crippling and perilous effects of the pursuit of beauty.

The novel begins with California native Richard Papen entering the picturesque Hampden College in rural Vermont to study literature. Upon his arrival, he finds himself drawn to a mysterious group of students, a highly exclusive and sophisticated ancient Greek society. Richard’s idolization of his classmates soon revealed to me his intense desire to fit in, as well as his unreliability as a narrator. What begins as mild curiosity transforms into an ugly infatuation, and Richard remains in the clique even when they begin to scheme a murder, all for the sake of personal image.

As an avid historical fiction fan, it took a leap of faith to embark on the 592-page psychological thriller. Yet with each transpiring event, I became more entranced with the characters, as well as their actions and quirks, despite their more than questionable morality. And although their situation was far from relatable, I saw glimmers of myself in them, especially in how they wanted to be perceived.

For example, when the clique’s recognized leader Henry Winter is accused of murder, he contemplates which author’s novel he should carry around in order to leave a better impression instead of ingratiating himself with the police. When I first began creating sculptures and installations, I too often wondered what would appeal to aesthetics instead of focusing on what actually matters: the narrative of my piece.

Tartt masterfully chronicles this weakness of human nature — prioritizing beauty over all else — through each character’s idiosyncrasies, such as their tendencies to romanticize pain and spend excessively. She blends this central theme into the clever erudite banter and debauched Dionysian rituals that take place, instilling equal amounts of awe and horror in the reader.

I would recommend this book to those that struggle with an obsession with image, whether private or public. The characters’ descent into madness and subsequently, ruin, illustrates the consequences of pursuing a glamorous, hedonistic existence and reminds us to appreciate the good, not the beautiful.

“Does such a thing as ‘the fatal flaw,’ that showy dark crack running down the middle of a life, exist outside literature? I used to think it didn’t. Now I think it does. And I think that mine is this: a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.” — Donna Tartt, “The Secret History”