The Miniaturist

A Miniature Novel

Jessie Burton's novel is quietly compelling, but mostly waxen and lifeless 

Although many books have passed through my fingertips in the last few months, very few have been reviewed. It is only now that I turn to this blog to document a book that has left me regrettably, yet unequivocally, bored. A rare occasion for me, perhaps, to be dissatisfied with a book.

This novel was purchased following the "Christmas hype", which saw the BBC show a two-part dramatic reconstruction for its Christmas evening entertainment. With the book appearing as part of the "2 for £5"deal at HMV, who could resist following the crowd? Sadly, after trying (and failing) to enjoy this book, I am left wishing that I had kept to my own independence.

'The Miniaturist' is set in 17th Century Amsterdam, beginning with the arrival of a newly wed eighteen year-old, pawned off to a wealthy merchant by her struggling family. Nella Oortman is met with the prospect of living in a huge, gloomy mansion with large, empty corridors and, alarmingly- no husband in sight. In fact, she is introduced only to Marin: the Master's cold, Puritan sister, along with a stony-faced maid named Cornelia, and a former slave-turned-servant named Otto. Very quickly, Nella understands that her husband, Johannes, is rarely home from his voyages, and that this house is the drab, dreary reality that she must face.

As Nella spends more time in the Brandt household, she retains hope that she can one day obtain the fairytale image of husband-and-wife that she's always dreamed of. She spends her days cloaked in elaborate tailor-made dresses, planning how to seduce her oddly estranged husband, and perhaps shatter Marin's icy exterior along the way. Her prayers appear answered when Johannes arrives home one evening to present her with a belated wedding gift; something more expensive and unusual than Nella could ever have imagined. It is a beautiful, inexplicable replica of the household in miniature form, complete with harrowing accuracy to detail. Johannes offers her the sole sentiment that this "doll's house" might amuse her, and that she might spend her empty days furnishing it.

After getting in touch with a local Miniaturist, Nella begins requesting furniture for her tiny house to craft it according to her own desires. Indeed, this new-found optimism appears to affect her married life, as Johannes finally begins to include her in social affairs. The new attention she receives sends Marin into fury, whilst empowering Nella as a capable wife and Mistress of the House. However, any initial sense of power she receives is immediately shattered with the arrival of a disturbing package from the Miniaturist. Before long, these haunting testimonies send Nella's life and marriage spiralling out of control, leaving her with the realisation that she is no better than a helpless pawn, imprisoned like a tiny waxen figure within the walls of her very own torturous Doll's House.

With all of that being said, I imagine that you are greatly confused as to how I managed to find this book so dull. An interesting construct? Certainly. There is no doubt that this novel had the correct premise, and indeed potential, to be a brilliant read. Still, an idea is only as great as its construction, and in this case, the way in which 'The Miniaturist' was constructed proved to be its demise.

My first, and most important criticism, is focused on the character of the Miniaturist herself. The beginning of the novel sets her up to be a chilling prophetess, capable of sending Nella hidden warnings about the future. Yet, there seems to be a case in this novel of searching for a hidden meaning that simply isn't there. The Miniaturist sends Nella messages that simply do not make sense, and fail to generate any satisfying "light-bulb" revelation moment. One could construct a mind-map of all of the hidden clues that the Miniaturist sends throughout the novel, and still reach no conclusion as to what is being suggested. Of course, one could argue that we need not look for an exact meaning behind themes in Literature. Still, it strikes me that to base a novel around a largely symbolic concept, and yet offer no explanation as to what this symbol actually is, makes for a largely pointless novel.

The same criticism may be applied to the characters that Burton crafts. It seems that the author prefers to focus on endless chapters of slow-moving tension, rather than offering much character development. As such, it is very difficult to care for characters that seem no more alive than the artificial dolls that Nella places in her Doll's House. This is certainly unfortunate, as figures such as the perplexing, dominant Marin who refuses to wear anything other than a black, nun-like costume have the potential to be fascinating constructs, if only we were given more description.

Perhaps, the dreary nature of the narrative can be attributed to the 17th Century society in which the novel was set, which lends itself to icy, apathetic exchanges. Yet, this argument only appears to go so far, as Burton also chooses to write in a modern style, with frequent use of swear words and liberal attitudes towards sex. This leaves the reader with a sense of confusion as to what the novel is aiming to be: is it a dreary tale of 17th Century life, or a modern feminist document? As the author cannot decide which to choose, she simply tries to incorporate both, which, (in my opinion), does not work.

I felt myself often longing for faster action, and to gain more of a connection with the estranged characters. My frustration continued when watching the BBC reconstruction, feeling that the main plot itself was so scarce that it could have been squeezed into one shorter episode, rather than the extensive two and a half hours. Whilst I understand the effect of the gradual building of tension, so as not to reveal the central twists too rashly, this seems to have been taken to the extreme in both the book and dramatic version. Once the plot twists do occur, they seem a pitiful compensation for the endless wait that preceded them.

Admittedly, it is perhaps not correct to say that I was bored with this novel, as I've hardly been able to get it off my mind. In fact, I've mostly been frustrated that I've failed to experience the admiration and emotion that my relatives, and indeed the public in general, have expressed towards it. The construct, and descriptive setting, is incredible, yet it lacks the burst of life it desperately needs in order to drive it forward. The novel begins as an empty Doll's House, and, regrettably, appears to end in the same way.