Normally I find Ann Patchett’s studies of human nature completely absorbing but sadly this one is a little tedious. The main character Danny Conroy and his sister Maeve have an unhealthy fixation with the Dutch House, an incongruous mansion in Pennsylvania where they spent their childhood. Their evil stepmother summarily turfed them out of the house after the sudden death of their father when Danny was a teenager; their mother had disappeared to India to help poor people many years earlier. As adults Danny and Maeve spend a lot of time sitting in Maeve’s car outside the house, peering into it, talking about their past life and the people in it, and reminiscing over the features of the house.
I get it, I do; their longing is not actually about the house. It’s a longing for their absent mother and a longing for tenderness from their late father and a longing for the lives they should have been living, all together in the Dutch House. But still, you do want to shake them sometimes when they are going on about the portraits in the lounge room and suggest they get over it. It’s difficult to feel sorry for these people when they don’t seem to have enough self knowledge to realise what they actually missed out on was adequate parenting. And inadequate parenting would most likely have happened with or without the Dutch House. Their mother was frequently absent; mental health problems are hinted at but it seems clear she was always more comfortable taking care of strangers than her own children. Of course it is unfair that women are judged more harshly for leaving their children than men, but it does seem particularly cruel that she later lived near her children for many years without trying to contact them, even after she was aware their father had died. Their father was uncommunicative and awkward throughout Danny and Maeve’s childhoods; uncomfortable in his role as a parent and dismissive of his daughter. Still, Danny and Maeve were genuinely loved and cared for by the women who worked in the house and forged lifelong connections with them. They had a very strong bond with one another. Did they really believe they needed a house with a ballroom on the third floor?
And Danny is downright chilling when listing the reasons why he finally decided to marry his former girlfriend, Celeste; “I came to see her willingness to not be a distraction as something that took effort. I didn’t even know to be grateful for it until I was with other women who wanted to read me articles from the paper in the morning while I was studying or read me their horoscope, or explain their feelings to me while crying over the fact that I had never explained my feelings to them…[Celeste] would peel a peach and cut it up in a dish, or make me a sandwich and leave it on the table without comment the way Sandy and Jocelyn used to do.”
Sandy and Jocelyn, by the way, were the cook and the housekeeper at the Dutch House. You’ll note Danny’s list of his future wife’s attributes does not include reference to her character or intelligence, to who she is or what she wants; she is only defined in relationship to her usefulness to him. Celeste never troubled him with trying to share her thoughts or her feelings; he might well have been choosing a new and compliant housekeeper instead of a wife.
I started finding this book quite tedious about halfway through. Getting the Dutch House back into the possession of Danny’s family should feel like a triumphant finale but instead it’s just a relief that the book has ended. And feeling relief that a book has ended is never a great recommendation.
Patchett has produced so many finer novels; do read Commonwealth or Bel Canto instead.
