The waiting game: Why Donna Tartt’s silence is part of the myth

Some authors tour, tweet, podcast, publish—and then there is Donna Tartt. Three novels in more than three decades, no confirmed interviews since 2016, and not a whisper of what she might be writing now. And yet, her presence is everywhere. On BookTok, in dark academia mood boards, in conversations about obsessive friendships and beautiful prose and the kind of writing that insists you slow down and read every word.

It is a peculiar kind of fame: literary, elusive, enduring. And it begs the question—how has Tartt managed to become one of the most recognisable cult authors of our time by doing, ostensibly, so little?

Beyond genre: experimental and alt-lit’s bold new directions

Genres are meant to be helpful. They signpost where to look on the shelves in bookshops and libraries, offering a comforting sense of what to expect. But what happens when a book won’t stay put? 

When its narrative is fragmented, its form elastic, and its voice deliberately hard to pin down?

The quiet power of slow books

Some novels refuse to be hurried. They ask for patience, not because they’re difficult, but because they move differently. You don’t tear through them. You live in them.

I was thinking about this as I slowly make my way through Lonesome Dove, by Larry McMurtry. It’s that kind of book. There are, of course, plenty of others.

Why the Classics still cast a spell: reading backwards in the age of the algorithm

Browse through the bookish corners of Instagram or TikTok, and you’ll encounter a familiar pattern: glossy covers, rapid emotional claims, and an endless stream of “must-reads” that promise devastation, catharsis, or shocking twists. 

It sometimes feels that the language of the algorithm values sensation over subtlety. Amid this noisy chorus, the quiet, deliberate appeal of the classics becomes harder to hear, yet more essential than ever. It is the reason that we return to them. And while some say it's about nostalgia. It isn't that at all.