Though they cannot know it, Andrea’s advent to the Dutch House sows the seed of the defining loss of Danny and Maeve’s lives. Then one day their father brings Andrea home: Andrea, small and neat, a dark hat no bigger than a saucer pinned over a twist of her fair hair. Life is comfortable and coherent, played out under the watchful eyes of the house’s former owners in the frames of their oil paintings, or under the cover of the draperies around the window seat in Maeve’s room. Though his father is distant and his mother is absent, Danny has his beloved sister Maeve: Maeve, with her wall of black hair, her delicacy, her brilliance. We pretended that what we had lost had been taken from us by the person who still lived inside.Ī masterpiece from the Orange Prize-winning, New York Times number one bestselling author of Commonwealth and Bel Canto: a story of love, family, sacrifice, and the power of place.ĭanny Conroy grows up in the Dutch House, a lavish folly in small-town Pennsylvania taken on by his property developer father. We pretended that what we had lost was the house, not our mother, not our father. Like swallows, like salmon, we were the helpless captives of our migratory patterns.
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