Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

This novel has been around for awhile, but I never got to it. So, when looking through my library wish list — (because you know I don’t have any of my own books to read) — I realized I had added this novel way back in 2018. So decided it was time to give it a try.

Eleanor Oliphant is 29, works as a finance clerk in Glasgow, has no friends or social contacts and is both eccentric and opinionated. Written in the first person, the novel begins with Eleanor’s day to day life and her unfiltered description of herself and everyone she meets. She is an introvert, who doesn’t fit in at work and is very uncomfortable in social situations. On the weekends she drinks alone, does difficult cross word puzzles, and seldom speaks to anyone — hers is a solitary and lonely lifestyle.

It wasn’t that I needed anyone. I was, as I had mentioned, perfectly fine.

She’s oblivious to how her actions appear to those around her and blames any awkwardness on the other person. Her private thoughts are witty, and often harsh judgements, about everything and everyone. Eleanor lacks both filters and self-awareness — so ends up saying things out loud that most of us wouldn’t dream of saying.

As you read this novel, if you’re like me, you’ll start to feel protective of Eleanor as she bumbles her way through the world in odd clothes and her sensible Velcro closure shoes.

I’d tried so hard, but something about me just didn’t fit. There was, it seemed, no Eleanor-shaped social hole for me to slot into.

Through out the book, Eleanor’s troubled past is revealed little by little, and the reader starts to realize that Eleanor Oliphant is Not Completely Fine.

Eleanor’s metamorphosis begins when an old man collapses in the street and, with her co-worker Raymond, they help and befriend him. She is soon visiting the old man in the hospital and becomes fond of Raymond, despite a fantasy crush on a singer in a local theater. She decides to step up her game, having her hair colored and styled, buying a new outfit (with non-Velcro shoes), and even submits to a makeup demonstration at department store. Eleanor finds the experience both exasperating and exciting.

Was this how it worked, then, successful social integration? Was it really that simple? Wear some lipstick, go to the hair dressers and alternate the clothes you wear? Someone ought to write a book, or at least an explanatory pamphlet, and pass the information on.

Most importantly she starts therapy, which as you can imagine is not a pleasant experience for our Eleanor. Her private thoughts about her therapist are both catty and funny. But, little by little, she confides bits and pieces of her past to the therapist and they form an uneasy but important bond.

I raced through this book, wanting things to go well for Eleanor and wanting to see what was going to happen to her next. Ms. Honeyman has created a character both fierce and independent yet also breathtakingly vulnerable. In one sentence her inner dialogue states:

I have always taken great pride in managing my life alone. I’m a sole survivor – I’m Eleanor Oliphant

Only later in the chapter to lament:

I could not solve the puzzle of me.

The author, Gail Honeyman said:

It’s a story of the transformational power of small acts of kindness. She wrote Eleanor’s life, as a person who has been knocked off kilter by an unnamed childhood horror which she can only recall from her sense of, before and after, and although she’s had a fairly catastrophic start in life, Eleanor is still the agent of her own life. She goes on to say that she didn’t want to write her as a victim, and didn’t want her to be self-pitying either. She tried to leave space in the narrative, so the reader could feel those feelings on her behalf.

Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine gifts the reader with a character who will stick with you long after the novel is finished. I found Eleanor funny yet sad – smart yet naive.

It’s a wonderful exploration of how socialization can be effortless for most, while at the same time, cringe-worthily awkward for those who are different. I am fortunate to be in the former group, but I know those who fall into the latter. After reading this novel, I feel a greater understanding and empathy — as if I have walked a mile in their sensible Velcro shoes.

Fun with the Queen

This will be my last post about her majesty, I promise. I want to share a few books that poke fun at the Queen – one, not so gently. Read on, I’ll explain ~~

The Uncommon Reader by Alan Bennett

Quite by accident, the Queen of England stumbles upon the bookmobile that visits Buckingham Palace each week. To be polite, she checks a book out from the traveling library and what follows is a charming story in which HRH develops quite an obsession with books and sends the palace into an uproar.

With her new love of reading, neither she nor eventually England will ever be quite the same in this quietly humorous short novel. The Queen discovers Jean Genet, Nancy Mitford, E. M. Forster, Emily Dickinson, Alice Munro, Proust, Charles Dickens, Dostoevsky. She has difficulty with Jane Austen because that writer is so concerned with social distinctions. Ar first, she is put off by the verbosity of Henry James(something she has in common with any reader I have ever known) and I have to agree with her question:

Am I alone in wanting to give Henry James a good talking to?

The Queen’s newfound love of reading quickly concerns both the royal household and her staff. She’s no longer interested in her duties and has started arriving late to engagements (even Parliament). And like all readers, the Queen often laments about her full days of meetings, wishing instead she could be at home reading. She perfects reading in her coach, keeping the book below the window level so as to maintain the royal wave as she travels.

She eventually comes to question the prescribed order of her world and loses patience with the routines of the monarchy. With her reading, she gains a new widening perspective which soon leads to surprising (and very funny) consequences for the country at large.

The Uncommon Reader pokes gentle fun at the proper behavior and protocol at the palace. Mr. Bennett encapsulates, in a subtle and clever way, the isolation and insularity of a royal’s life. This short novella, imagines that the Queen discovers a way to break out of the bubble with the joy of reading.

Mrs. Queen Takes the Train by William Kuhn

A very similar novel, in both tone and style – with a mimic cover.

Mr. Kuhn even refers to the Bennett novel:

“‘Did you read the one about The Queen becoming a reader?’ said the woman in spectacles to the young man at her side.`I did enjoy that one. So funny. And of course, being a reader myself, I liked that side of it.’”

From the back cover:

After decades of service and years of watching her family’s troubles splashed across the tabloids, Britain’s Queen is beginning to feel her age. She needs some proper cheering up. An unexpected opportunity offers her relief: an impromptu visit to a place that holds happy memories—the former royal yacht, Britannia, now moored near Edinburgh. Hidden beneath a skull-emblazoned hoodie, the limber Elizabeth (thank goodness for yoga) walks out of Buckingham Palace into the freedom of a rainy London day and heads for King’s Cross to catch a train to Scotland.

But a characterful cast of royal attendants has discovered her missing. In uneasy alliance a lady-in-waiting, a butler, an equerry, a girl from the stables, a dresser, and a clerk from the shop that supplies Her Majesty’s cheese set out to find her and bring her back before her absence becomes a national scandal.

Mrs. Queen Takes the Train abounds with dry, British humor and witty social commentary.  Mr. Kuhn tackles homelessness, terrorism, race relations, and mental illness.   What I found fascinating was how the author gave the Queen a human side (she does yoga and attempts a computer) but still maintains the respectful dignity due a British monarch. You can read my full review of this delightful little novel HERE

Death at Buckingham Palace by C. C. Benison

I read this years ago, back when I was working 60+ hours a week, and at the end of the day, my mind was mush. In those days, I would turn to light, cozy mysteries to relax me to sleep at night.

Death at Buckingham Palace starts with the Queen literally tripping over a dead body in the palace and an unlikely housemaid Jane Bee works with the Queen to uncover secrets of the highest order. The time period is a few years after the Queen’s “annus horribilis” and before the death of Princess Diana. Lots of humor (footmen streaking naked through the palace), upstairs and downstairs drama, a film crew doing a documentary on life at the palace, and plenty of red herrings for Jane to sort through. A fun look inside the palace (there’s even a map of the layout) and tongue-in-cheek humor.

I’ve kept this little paperback all these years, which means I meant to re-read it – I do remember really enjoying it. There are two more in this “Her Majesty Investigates” series – Death at Sandringham House and Death at Windsor Castle.

C. C. Benison is the nom de plume for the Canadian award-winning author Doug Whiteway…who under the same pseudonym also wrote the father Christmas series, which includes Twelve Drummers Drumming, Eleven Pipers Piping, Ten Lords A-Leaping — well you get the drift. I admit I read at least one of those, as well – back when I devoured cozy mysteries to unwind.

The Queen and I by Sue Townsend

Remember at the beginning of this rather long post, I hinted one of these books was not so gentle when having fun with the Queen? Well, actually The Queen and I is actually not directly critical of the Queen but of the royal institution itself. It does however, embark on making fun of the Queen trying to become a regular Brit.

What if anti-monarchists win the UK election and their first action is to transfer the royal family into low-income housing and told they must live like ordinary Britons? How would they cope and adapt?

This very scenario is explored in this very funny, very British tale by Ms. Townsend. The family is ‘relocated’ to Hellebore Close the missing letters in the street sign leave “Hell Close”), a council estate somewhere up the M1. Elizabeth is assigned a social worker, Phillip gets clinical depression, Charles grows a ponytail and ends up in prison, and Anne starts see a carpet installer named Spiggy.

When it was originally published in 1992 this satire was considered an edgy and irreverent exploration of the role of the monarchy, and it does, indeed, highlight the question of the relevancy and value of the ancient British institution.

I think I’ll re-read The Queen and I, as I remember it was amusingly bittersweet, as well as thought-provoking and insightful. Here’s some of the things I underlined from my first reading:

Upon her first, nervous journey on a bus, the driver quips to the Queen “aw c’mon lassie, let yourself go. You’ve got a face on you like a wet Sunday in Aberdeen.”

Then there is this exchange as they settle into the housing estate:

“Mr Barker, there is no mention of dogs here,” said the Queen.
“One per family,” said Jack.
“Horses?” asked Charles.
“Would you keep a horse in a council house garden?”
“No. Quite. One wasn’t thinking.”
“Clothes aren’t on the list,” said Diana, shyly.
“You won’t be needing much. Just the bare essentials. You won’t be making personal appearances, will you?”
Princess Anne rose and stood next to her father. “Thank God for that! At least something good has come out of this bloody shambles — Are you all right, Pa?”

So, there you go, some fun, light Queen-based humor.

I firmly believe she would approve.

The Appeal by Janice Hallett

Thanks to my trusty and wonderful digital library system, I snagged a Kindle copy of this book which had me intrigued, after reading the reviews.

The Appeal is a real page turner (to coin a well-worn phrase) — but it shouldn’t be. It’s not a fast-paced thriller. There’s no lurking killer, no police work, no espionage, no smart-mouthed detective — none of that.

Instead, the story unfolds through reading of a substantial pile of emails, text messages and press clippings relating to an amateur theater group in England. This correspondence is all part of an evidence bundle for an appeal against a murder conviction that a pair of junior lawyers are reviewing for the head of their law firm — however, as we read along with the lawyers – we are unclear as to the supposed victim — let alone, who is in prison for the murder.

Yes, that’s right, the reader has to try and piece together what’s happened from email, text, and phone messages.

It soon becomes clear that the wealthy Hayward family, who own a local hotel and health club, are the center of the local social circle and are the driving force behind the Fairway Players theater group. Martin Hayward runs the group of amateur actors and, along with his son James, directs the shows, while his wife Helen and daughter Paige are the perennial leading ladies –leaving everyone else vying for the best supporting roles, both on and off stage.

When Martin and Helen’s two-year-old grandchild, Poppy, is diagnosed with cancer their only hope is to try and raise $350,000 through a crowdfunding campaign, so that they can import an experimental drug from the U.S. for the first round of treatment.

Meanwhile, one of the Fairway Players, the often overlooked Issy Beck has introduced two new members to the group. Issy is a nurse on a geriatric ward and is delighted when her new colleague Sam Greenwood and her husband Kel agree to audition for the group. Sam and Kel have just returned from volunteering in Africa with Medecins Sans Frontieres — but why did they leave? And what’s their connection with Poppy’s doctor?

But, not everyone is convinced that the appeals for the funds, and the drug, are legitimate. Suspicions mount, accusations are made, and the tension leads to a dead body, and an arrest on the night of the play’s dress rehearsal .

Ms. Hallett has pulled off some extremely clever and accomplished writing. Although we only have the characters’ own words to go by, we soon develop a clear picture of each of player, as well as the group dynamics. Issy’s creepy, over-enthusiastic, and childlike emails have a clingy, obsessive note to them. Sarah-Jane McDonald’s bossy, capable emails in her role of campaign coordinator for A Cure for Poppy are spot-on – sometimes persuasive, sometimes hectoring. Martin Hayward is confidently authoritative while his son, James, takes a softer and more theatrical tone.

Each email reveals a bit more about the characters, their flaws, secrets and fears. Some of the correspondence appear to be pure gossip, while others seem enigmatic or irrelevant. Some provide key information if one reads them carefully. And – importantly – what isn’t said is often the most revealing.

Every character is acutely well-observed, as are the social interactions between them, the constant petty battle for status within the group and how quickly the rumors and speculation spread from one to another keeps the reader chuckling – albeit uncomfortably.

I must admit I found it tough to keep track of some of the minor characters – there is a two page list of characters in the beginning which helps, but it didn’t slow me down, as most of the plot revolves around the main players in the group.

What did slow me down was the last third of the book, wherein the two junior lawyers write up their conclusions – I got a bit bogged down in those very long and wordy (lawyers!) suppositions on what really happened.

The Appeal won’t appeal (sorry!) to every reader. If you sit in front of a computer all day, answering emails for a living, doing so when trying to read a book, just may not work for you.

However for me, this mystery worked on several levels — it’s a satire on a very English type of social group, there’s also an intriguing puzzle to be solved, and it is frequently very funny.

Hats off to the author for pulling off a clever, complex and unique mystery – unlike anything I have ever read before.

Miss Austen by Gill Hornby

After my last few books, I promised myself I’d read something totally different, and I certainly accomplished that goal with Miss Austen.

This novel imagines the life of Jane Austen’s sister Cassandra – both from the time they were girls up until her old age. The story begins in 1840, and sixty-seven year old Cassandra Austen travels to Kintbury, the family home of her deceased fiancé, Tom Fowle.

Ostensibly visiting to assist in packing up household in preparation to move after the death of her brother-in-law, Cassandra is actually there to search for and destroy any of Jane’s letters which may damage her legacy and image. These letters cover key relationships and events between the Austen, Fowle, and Lloyd families between 1795 and 1817. While finding and obtaining these letters, Cassandra Austen revisits the past, and the details of her life and her sister’s life are tantalizingly revealed

It is a truth universally acknowledged (get it? a little Jane Austen humor there) that Cassandra burned hundreds of letters to and from Jane before her own death in 1845. Ms. Hornby re imagines these letters, and others, throughout this novel. Even though the letters aren’t real, it was an wonderful way to inhabit the lives of Cassandra, Jane, the Austen family, and their relations.

As she discovers and reads the letters at Kintbury, both Cassandra and the reader are transported back to the early 1800’s to a story that could have been one of Jane’s own works. Cassandra falls deeply in love, is betrothed and then bereaved. Unable to reconcile the memory of her one great love, Cassandra vows to remain single and devote herself to her family and good works.

Jane Austen also remained unmarried and their devoted sibling relationship is portrayed with Jane’s letters to Cassandra and the reader is brought into their closeness.

I have lost a treasure, such a sister, such a friend as never can have been surpassed. She was the sun of my life, the gilder of every pleasure, the soother of every sorrow, I had not a thought concealed from her, and it is as if I had lost a part of myself. – Cassandra Austen upon Jane’s death

Interwoven with Cassandra’s history is the ‘present-day’ (1840) story of her dead finance’s family and the author explores the fate of unmarried women and the real need for them to marry and marry well. A glimpse into the plight of unmarried women during this time, and their efforts to find happiness in a world in which they were considered worthless except as caretakers for those more fortunate.

Whoever looked at an elderly lady and saw the young heroine she once was?

I especially enjoyed Ms. Hornby’s depiction of the Austen family and the love they felt for each other.

She [Cassandra] and her siblings were, to one another, a source of constant love and cheerful support. It was such a sadness to find other families so differently arranged.

Now, readers I totally enjoyed this novel. I found the writing exquisite and a wonderful insight into the Austen family story, however, here at Book Barmy we try to give fair warning about books that may not suit everyone.

So here we go…

Miss Austen is a slow read and it isn’t very plot focused — it’s the characters that shine through — even Mary Austen, who was just insufferable. And like Jane Austen’s own works, the novel has many characters to keep straight, but rest assured, there’s a list of characters to help you. And one more disclaimer, I believe one should be a Jane Austen fan to fully enjoy this novel.

This wonderful imagining had me headed to my shelves to maybe re-read one or two in my Jane Austen collection. But then — what’s this, say what? I realized I have never read Mansfield Park.

Shamefaced, I have added it to the rest-of-my-summer reading pile list.

Love and Saffron by Kim Fay

I am a frequent visitor to my branch library only a few blocks away.

Why you may ask? Don’t you have a houseful of books waiting to be read? Yes, and your point would be?

So as I was saying, I stopped by the library on Friday — (I was feeling down, but we won’t discuss that here). A visit to the library always cheers me up, and I was looking for an escapist read, something light and easy.

Love and Saffron seemed like the perfect cure. Especially after I read these:

In the vein of the classic 84, Charing Cross Road, this witty and tender novel follows two women in 1960s America as they discover that food really does connect us all, and that friendship and laughter are the best medicine.

And this: “In an age when we’re barraged with Twitter blow-ups, pandemic deaths, and political discourse of the most uncivil kind, Love & Saffron is as refreshing as watching the sunset over the Pacific Ocean, with a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and a bowl of garlicky clams at your elbow. Kim Fay convincingly recreates a charming and civil world, and a touching friendship, in a period piece that will restore you to your kinder, gentler self.” —Richard C. Morais, author of The Hundred Foot Journey

So, of course Love and Saffron came home with me — and I gobbled it up this weekend (pun intended).

In the early 1960’s, Imogen Fortier writes a monthly column called “Letter from the Island” for Northwest Home & Life Magazine. She writes about summers spent in her family’s cabin on Camano Island in Puget Sound, Washington. Meanwhile in Los Angeles, Joan Bergstrom, a budding food columnist, is a fan of Imogen’s column and writes her a fan letter, explaining how much she admires her column and noting that Imogen had mentioned mussels as a nuisance. Joan suggests that Imogen collect some, suggesting a French recipe and even sending a packet of saffron to use in the recipe. Saffron was not easy to come by in 1963 and Imogen, who can dig clams or hunt an elk, has never even tasted fresh garlic — so she was greatly impressed by the gift of such a rare spice.

Thus begins a beautiful friendship told through their letters in the early 1960s.

These letters bring to life the issues of the time period — anxiety over the Cuban missile crisis, grief at President John Kennedy’s assignation, their mutual dislike of Helen Gurley Brown’s ‘Sex and the Single Girl’, despite which they share their hopes for what the future holds for women (!)

(biting my tongue here – I won’t write about women’s futures in 2022 – you don’t want me to get started)…

Imogene or “Immy” encourages Joan in her career path, and their letters discuss pop culture, the Beatles appearance on Ed Sullivan, John Updike’s novels, the racial climate in Los Angeles, and of course, the food culture in both the Pacific Northwest and Los Angeles — especially the ingredients unique to their areas.

There are serious subjects as well, a bi-racial relationship, Immy’s husband’s PTSD, and an unplanned pregnancy. But wait there’s more — there are recipes throughout, told within the letters and described in prose. How to make perfect scrambled eggs (Julia Child does the same) and mouth-watering instructions for Carne Asada*.

Immy and Joan’s personalities are wonderfully developed and their daily lives so full of beauty and detail, that I felt fully immersed in their stories. We have lost the art of letter writing (among many other things this weekend — okay I’ll stop now) and this quote made me sigh in remembrance of long-lost pen pals and romantic missives to (and from) boyfriends.

There is unequaled satisfaction in composing words on a blank page, sealing them in an envelope, writing an address in my own messy hand, adding a stamp, walking it to the mailbox, and raising the flag. It’s like preparing a gift, and I feel like I receive one when a letter arrives…

It’s always appealing to immerse myself in an epistolary novel (written primarily in letters and one of my favorite genres). Ms. Fay gave me a wonderfully delicious way to escape this weekend – which indeed was my plan.

Love & Saffron is a lovely, quiet novel that has much to say below the surface, but the friendship between two women was the main appeal. This book is short, the letters only span the years 1962-1966, but much richness and life is contained in those four years.

What started out as a simple letter about adding saffron to muscles, turns into a lifetime of friendship, love, and companionship. For me, Love & Saffron made me stop to think about my true friendships and how much I cherish them.

*NB: I found this very similar recipe on the internet

I forgot to copy out this recipe from the library book before I returned it this morning.

Carne Asada

• 3 lb. Steak (skirt, flank or beef flap)

Marinade Mixture

• 2 Oranges juiced
• 4 Limes juiced
• ⅓ cup Olive Oil
• ¼ cup Soy Sauce
• 4 cloves Garlic minced
• 1 bunch fresh Cilantro leaves chopped, stems discarded
• 3 Jalapenos (optional) minced
• 2 tbsp. Brown Sugar
• 2 tsp. Ground Cumin
• 1 tsp. Dried Oregano
• Salt & Pepper to taste

Instructions

Combine the marinade ingredients in large mixing bowl.

Whisk until well combined.

Put the steak in a gallon-sized zip lock bag. Pour the marinade over the steak. Close the bag letting out as much air as possible. Let refrigerate for at least 6 hours and up to 24 hours.

Grill the steak to your liking.

Two Books by Ann Patchett

As you know, Ann Patchett is one of my favorite authors, as evidenced HERE and HERE. So of course, I read her most recent essay collection, These Precious Days. I’ve grown to enjoy reading essays, especially when written by an author I admire.

From the very first essay, I was highlighting passages — how Ann feels most vulnerable when carrying her fictional characters around in her head as she is writing her novels.

And, her essays written during the pandemic had me nodding in agreement.

Most of the writers and artists I know were made for sheltering in place. The world asks us to engage, and for the most part we can, but given the choice, we’d rather stay home.

Another essay that will stay with me for a long time was written about her three fathers — her biological father and her two stepfathers. She expounds on their three very different personalities and relationships with her. The way she describes the group photo she orchestrated with the three of them made me smile, and her antidotes about each of them left me sad, but nonetheless, feeling good.

Ms. Patchett writes about writing, her books, and how she’s obsessed with making sure her book covers are exactly the way she envisions them. (More on that in the review below.)

But most poignantly, she writes about two important friendships — with lifelong friend Talia, and her new friend Sooki.  Her friendship with Sooki — the topic of the title essay — was especially moving. Ms. Patchett tells of reading an advance copy of Tom Hanks’ book Uncommon Type, and how she loved it and wrote a review for the publication. Then she was invited to interview Tom Hanks, himself. That’s where she met Sooki Tom’s assistant— and the two became close email friends. And then, Sooki was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. 

Ann sprung into action because she could. Her husband, Karl, a doctor, connected Sooki with a clinical trial, and she moved in with Ann and Karl during her treatments. Near strangers, but not strangers at all. It’s always remarkable to me how two souls find one another and connect. 

For as many times as the horrible thing happens, a thousand times in every day the horrible thing passes us by.

And then this quote I read and re-read shaking my head at Ms. Patchett’s insight…

The trouble with good fortune is that we tend to equate it with personal goodness, so that if things are going well for us and less well for others, it’s assumed they must have done something to have brought that misfortune on themselves while we must have worked harder to avoid it. We speak of ourselves as being blessed, but what can that mean except that others are not blessed […] It is our responsibility to care for one another, to create fairness in the face of unfairness and find equality where none may have existed in the past.

If there is a theme to These Precious Days — it’s all about hope and finding a way through the darkest times — and doing so with ferocity, understanding, openness, and love.

Reading this book made me feel like the world is not actually such a horrible place, because there are dear friends and good people everywhere – they just don’t make the headlines.

The next Ann Patchett I read was The Dutch House. The very kind publishers sent me a digital advance readers copy several months (whoops) several years ago, but I had forgotten about this book. That is, until I read about the author’s long journey to find and eventually create this cover art (in one of her essays reviewed above).

But first I’ll tell you about the plot.

The Dutch House is located just outside of Pennsylvania and is a grand home with lovely large windows, a stately facade, and, beautiful interiors. Maeve and Danny Conroy live there with their father. We learn that the father very much wanted this house and quickly purchased it when the previous (Dutch) owners died. Their mother is no longer around (we learn why later on) and now they have the proverbial stepmother, who has her own two daughters. When their father dies, the house becomes part of a painful tug of war… Maeve and Danny are stripped of all their inheritance and thrown out their Dutch House. At this point, the family secrets start tumbling out.

This sudden life change means the brother and sister need each other even more. The book follows them through five decades. As they became adults, I grew more attached to them; and was invested in the choices they made and cringed (more than once) at their behavior.

This novel is as much a story of the house itself as it is of the people who inhabit it. The story line encompasses several generations of the Conroy family as they deal with issues that many of us face during our lifetimes – difficulty communicating within the family, sickness and health, economic concerns, step parenting, sibling relationships, and what it means to feel at home where you are and within yourself. And the sumptuous Dutch House is a fully developed character in its own right.

The dining room ceiling was painted a shade of blue both deep and intense, and was covered in intricate configurations of carved leaves that had been painted gold, or, more accurately, the leaves had been gilded. The gilt leaves were arranged in flourishes which were surrounded by circles of gilt leaves within squares of gilt leaves. The ceiling was more in keeping with Versailles than Eastern Pennsylvania, and when I was a child I found it mortifying. Maeve and my father and I made a point of keeping our eyes on our plates during dinner.

Ultimately, this is a story about how a brother and sister’s love for each other transcends circumstances that would cause others to break.

We had made a fetish out of our misfortune, fallen in love with it. I was sickened to realize we’d kept it going for so long.

The Dutch House is slow burn and the reader is never totally sure where the story is going. There is no dramatic or climatic ending. The writing is gorgeous, and I enjoyed the sense of place and the brother and sister’s characters were fully realized. But, truth be told, I thought this was not one of Ms. Patchett’s best works – there was too much wallowing — too much dysfunction.

N.B. The cover for The Dutch House was described in one the author’s essays in My Precious Days. The novel describes a portrait of Maeve which hangs in the Dutch House. For months, Ms. Patchett and her publishers searched find the right art work — without success. So Ms. Patchett sent the manuscript to an artist friend which resulted in this cover painting. All agreed instantly it was perfect and now the actual artwork now hangs in the author’s home.

Harper Perennial kindly provided a digital review copy via Edelweiss.