Everything The Secret History Did Wrong, Babel Does Right
A Review of Babel: Or the Necessity of Violence by R. F. Kuang
The first review I ever posted on this Substack was about The Secret History, an inverted detective story that traverses the aftermath of a murder within a group of socially sequestered Classics students. I’ve always loved dark academia as a genre, and I admired how Donna Tartt captured the moodiness of the fictional Hampden College, all the while integrating her vast knowledge of Greek and Latin into the narrative.
Yet my overwhelming critique of The Secret History—and the majority of dark academia novels I’ve read—is its racism. The prejudice of the characters is unbridled; their discrimination and intentional separation from the rest of the world as arrogant, white students define the world they exist in, with little to no explicit critique of them. And that doesn’t even touch on their homophobia and sexism.
Looking back on my review, I fear my celebration of Tartt’s critique of the elitist characters is misguided. In hindsight, I believe it was merely a projection and not stationed in the text at all.
I find Tartt’s racism and prejudice in The Secret History devastating. For what better genre to dismantle the faults of the past than one that innately reveres it?
Enter R. F. Kuang.
In Babel: Or the Necessity of Violence, Kuang blends the genres of dark academia, magical realism, and historical fiction to birth a tale celebrating the diversity of languages and the profound sway they hold over society—to connect and destroy. She interweaves her personal experiences from her time at Oxford University into Babel, both paying homage to the institution and critiquing its archaic customs.
The story follows Robin Swift, an orphan from Canton, who is brought to London during the early 1800s. Under the command of Richard Lovell, Robin attends Oxford University’s translation department, aptly named Babel. While Robin is initially enamored by Oxford, he soon discovers the insidious appropriation of language taking place within the British Empire and Babel itself. Along with his peers, he attempts to destroy the institution he once loved.
Babel not only tells a story of academics but serves as a source of learning itself. Interspersed throughout the book are Kuang’s footnotes, one of my favorite elements of the story outside of the narrative. These footnotes delve into everything, from the historical backdrop of relevant events to academic jargon around linguistics, etymology, and translation studies. I’d be lying if I denied having a newfound literary crush on Kuang due to her meticulous research and sleek prose.
Unlike The Secret History, which emphasizes the allure of erudition and intellectual isolation, Babel takes a different route. Instead, Kuang conveys to readers the dangers of disengaging from reality. As the title suggests, they are not removed from the real world—they are staunchly in it and forced to confront the world of violence surrounding them.
To put it bluntly, R. F. Kuang decolonizes the genre of dark academia with Babel. Her words are unflinching, unrelenting, and enthralling. It is (truly) a triumph of modern literature and does everything I wished The Secret History did.