Best line: “No amount of straining for high-flown uplift can disguise the fact that The goldfinch is a turkey.”
Donna Tartt built her latest novel around a 350-year-old portrait of a goldfinch.
The goldfinch proves Tartt to be a rara avis; her own species, willingly chained to her demanding muse.
That goldfinch has surely escaped from a Max-Beerbohm parody.
The Government gave me £70 for "goldfinch," which was good, I think.
Mrs. goldfinch now joined her handsome mate and it was plain to see that she admired him quite as much as did Peter.
"I think that is a dreadful thing," said the goldfinch, with a shudder.
His active wife had risen before him, strewed the shop with fresh sand, and renewed the goldfinch's food.
A goldfinch gave away the bride, and a linnet was bridesmaid.
Why does the joyous song of the goldfinch no longer sound cheerfully in my ears?