Ahhhhhh! Ann Patchett’s The Dutch House is so good. Like wrap yourself in a blanket and sit in a cozy chair and don’t get out for several hours because everything is absorbing and so well written. It’s the writing that is excellent without showing off that it’s excellent. And a plot that keeps you totally hooked without big bangs or wildly suspenseful moments – just a deep and absorbing care for character.
Okay, you know me, I’m a sucker for character, and this book is that. It follows Danny and Maeve throughout their lives from the traumatic departure of their mother in their early years through their subsequent experience with their step-mother, with partners, with children, with one another. I want to say so much more about what happens in their life, but then I really want you to read it, so I’m going to restrain myself and say it follows their lives with all the ups and downs (acknowledging the horrible cliche of that description but moving on).
It does foreshadowing so well.
And setting, too! An anchoring point along the way is the Dutch House itself: the extravagant mansion their father bought and that – purportedly – drove their mother away. The symbol of their lost childhood, what was stolen from their family, of unearned extravagance and the cost of desire.
Like I really, really liked it folks. The kind of enjoyment where I am legitimately sorry the book has ended, I’d have liked to have known Danny and Maeve IRL so I could keep checking in with them. Alas. I’ll have to live with hearing what you think of this one, because promise me you’ll read it…
Literary Vice 