THE DUTCH HOUSE by Ann Patchett

Sublime, beautiful writing - how does a writer do this? And tell a good story at the same time. This is a bit of a modern day fairy tale, complete with orphaned children, a step mother, step sisters, kind older women, and a huge rambling landmark of a house at the centre of it all.

The story is told through the eyes of Danny Conroy, firstly as a child living in the Dutch house with his parents and older sister Maeve. The Dutch house is a thing of beauty, originally built for a wealthy Dutch family, then purchased by Danny's dad Cyril sometime after WWII. Mother Elna never settles in the house, and then one day she is gone. Danny is only 4 so has little memory of his mother. It is Maeve who suffers the worst with the absence of her mother, especially when Cyril brings home Andrea. Danny narrates this time in his family's life without truly understanding what is going on, as one would expect. Things worsen after Cyril dies, the brother and sister effectively on their own. Danny is now in late teens, and Maeve mid-late twenties.

Maeve unwittingly takes on the role of protector and carer of Danny, and together the two of them muddle through life. What keeps them bonded for eternity is the house, the centre point of their relationship with each other and with the rest of the world. Their infrequent visits to their home street sees much conversation and processing taking place in the car across the road from the house, still a landmark in the Philadelphia suburbs.

The narrative of the story travels through the years finishing when Danny is in his forties, and I am guessing late 1980s. The only political indicators we have during the course of the story is that Danny is at college during the Vietnam War, and the manages to avoid the draft because he is doing a medical degree, reluctantly as it turns out, but it keeps him alive.

The lives of all the characters are remarkably ordinary, and yet the writing almost lends a magic glow or cast to their lives and who they are. I guess if you are telling a fairy tale or its modern equivalent, a little bit of etherealness is never going to go amiss. I mean, look at that cover! Maeve, all of 10 years old, sitting there having her portrait done so it can take its place with the other portraits in the house. This book was an absolute dream to read, I didn't want it to end, I just wanted to keep enjoying Ann Patchett's beautiful and understated writing.