read by
Jessie Burton
Beyond the
hype, there is so much in The Miniaturist to admire and enjoy that it would be
wrong to dwell too much on the few faults. The setting and Gothic edge alone in
the opening pages of the novel are enough to urge the reader on: it is 1686 and a teenage
bride arrives at the grand house of her new merchant husband in the wealthiest quarter of Amsterdam only to be met by
his oddly behaved sister and black manservant. Her husband is absent from the
house most days: abroad on business or spending perhaps too time with fellow merchants.
His reluctance for any intimacy with his young wife, too, raises questions. Rivalry,
envy and suspicion are rife, and life is firmly ruled by tradition, superstition and prejudice.
The
historical details – in particular, the miniature house (a ‘cabinet house’) at
the centre of the novel – are, it would seem, well researched and totally verifiable, and, thus, enchantingly intriguing. Some readers have complained at how the contemporary and the antique rub along badly within the novel and that the denouement has a decidedly postmodern feel. The author’s reference, early on, for example, to ‘layabouts’, does jump
out of the page as particularly odd, as Burton struggles with
language ancient and modern to find her voice. But
such sour grapes cannot detract from what is a remarkable read and from someone
who is clearly destined for even greater things. As an actor, the author brings
much to the reading of her novel, and The Miniaturist cannot be recommended highly
enough.
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