The Cracks in our Home: A Book Review of The Dutch House by Ann Patchett
A brother and sister move into an architectural wonder, sold to their father as a family home. The day they arrive, their story of heartache begins. Yet, the views are not anything less than impressive. The first floor is a complete wall of glass. Oil canvases of past family portraits and ballrooms are stashed on the third floor. Hidden closets and sweeping lawns magnify the children’s wonder. The most cumbersome feature of all, though, is the aversion it causes in their mother. Mrs. Conroy quickly exits the story, abandoning her young children, Maeve and Danny, to tell Ann Patchett’s new, fictional, family-drama, The Dutch House.
Many reviewers have been commenting on the fairytale aspect of Patchett’s story. A foreboding house, evil stepmother, aloof father, and (in a sense) orphaned, displaced children. With a traditional beginning, middle, and end written in a tidy chronological order, Patchett’s novel does seem to be simply categorized. The Dutch House expands the genre, because the close bond of Maeve and Danna, sister and brother, grieving together their once wholesome past, is very human.
The Guardian’s, Elizabeth Lowry, stated, “Patchett leads us to a truth that feels like life rather than literature.” And I agree, which is why I might have been surprised at all the comments about The Dutch House being a modern-day fairytale. I felt this story lacked anything magical, surprising, or jolting. To me, it was a family story with very humble, human elements like sadness, bitterness, loyalty, and love.
The most unsettling thing about the experience of reading this book was how detached I felt. To read The Dutch House felt like listening to your grandmother recount the daily inconveniences and disruptions to the lives of family members whom you haven’t seen in years. Mildly interesting and necessary to be polite about.
I kept asking myself why Maeve and Danny’s story felt dull; and the only answer I have reached is that they were written dull. They acknowledge sitting out in front of their childhood house, smoking cigarettes is weird and a waste of time, yet, they did it anyway. They like their mediocre jobs that keep them planted in the same neighborhood. Even the unwillingness to search for their lost mother, whom they discover resides blocks away, stunts their character growth.
Harvard Review Online reader, Jackie Thomas-Kennedy, thought, “The novel, save for a few dramatic scenes, could nearly be distilled to those hours in the car, with Maeve’s cigarette smoke and Danny’s eager questions, as they cobble together a family history and serve as each other’s witness.”
The car scenes were special. Uninterrupted, devoted time between sister and brother. I envy not having those experiences with my own siblings. Because who better in the world knows you than the people who grew up with you?
The most frustrating acceptance of mediocrity in the whole plot is Maeve and Celeste’s, Danny’s wife, disdain for each other. Leaving bad relationships bad is the worst type of apathy. Hating someone just because you always have; there is no room in the world for that, anymore. Without a doubt these type of relationships do exist, but I feel like Patchett failed readers when fixating on Maeve and Celeste tearing one another down around Danny. This element of the plot, which received no resolution, left me with a terrible after taste for The Dutch House.
This book is a stop while you are ahead. The pacing, content, and ending were all unsatisfying. I am a big Ann Patchett fan, but The Dutch House missed the mark for me. Of course, her talent and experience in the book industry shine through. I can even accept writing this story was a risk Patchett is more than afforded to take, she has nothing to prove. This story had a lot of cracks in it, which I found myself running to for fresh air. Staying immersed in the on-page plot would have suffocated my imagination for the characters outside of Danny’s mind.
NPR reviewer, Heller McAlpin, explains, “Because Danny is by design a clueless, tight-lipped character, it isn't clear that this was the right choice; an omniscient third person narration might have been a better way to get deeper inside him. Many of the details about his eccentric upbringing come courtesy of his older sister, a much more interesting character. Patchett's concern here, as in much of her fiction, is with the often unconventional families we cobble together with what's available to us. Being Patchett, she brings her novel around to themes of gratitude, compassion and forgiveness. The Dutch House goes unabashedly sentimental.”
I daydreamed about Maeve outside of Danny’s mind. I wondered why Elna Conroy, their mother, really wanted to be a nun. I felt disappointed we never learned more about Norma and Bright, the stepchildren, who cowered around their mother. Maybe, though, Patchett needed to write Danny’s story? A Danny could exist in her life that she just leant a great deal of compassion to.
If the holidays make you cringe at the family drama, try one of these fictional versions instead:
