Where's The Horror?

I was so annoyed after finishing Jessie Burton's 'The Miniaturist' (2014) that I wanted to dump the book. It might have unveiled nicely as its television series which received mixed reviews, but in a book, I wanted to strangle someone. (Reviews here, here and here.)

There's nothing supernatural about it, and it's all suspense and no resolution. It's just a family drama, and perhaps tell of customs and cultures in late 17th and 18th century Amsterdam and not very much else. ARRRRGH. It's lacking in all sorts of substance, and reading between the lines only saw fluff. I should have listened to my instincts to stay away from this book. Only picked it up because I had to fulfill a three-books-for-S$10 bargain bin purchase.

Protagonist Nella Oortman is 18 years old in 1676 Amsterdam, Netherlands. She leaves her home in Assendelft to become a wife (like it's a career back then) to 39-year-old wealthy merchant Johannes Brandt. While she now has to use 'Petronella Brandt', she never quite lost her identity and settles for 'Nella Brandt'. There's the dollhouse that her new husband gifted, and she goes about filling it up, and the miniaturist begins sending her items that she never requested for, but it seems to be more than accurate depictions, they seem to be predictions. Strange events happen, and Nella seeks to find the identity and find the miniaturist herself.

In that era, women have dollhouses, and it's more than mere playthings. It's expensive since it's made of the finest wood and pewter. It's almost like a status symbol. Women had no say back then, neither could they inherit nor do business. In these dollhouses, they could build and create a domestic sphere that they could control. A real Petronella Oortman existed in that era. That's what the book's inspired by. But the book doesn't contain anything about the actual woman's life. This Petronella Brandt's elaborate dollhouse, is actually on display at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam when it bought it in 1875.

The book does explain who the miniaturist is, and what she does, but it doesn't spell out what her gifts are, beyond being clairvoyant, and able to see and predict people's lives to stunning accuracy. The miniaturist creates frighteningly accurate miniatures (wanted or unwanted) for her clients' dollhouses. It's set in the olden days, but the themes and whatever else are extremely tuned for the audiences of the 21st century. Modern concepts of feminism, equality and such. Whatever, they don't make up for the dismal plot and writing.

Cornelia drops a pan in the kitchen. There is shushing from the salon as Thea sallies a cry. Lysbeth and Otto's voices float over the tiles. Nella reaches in her coat pocket to bring out the miniature house she took from the Kalverstraat, but it is no longer there. That cannot be right, she thinks, digging into the fabric. The little baby is still there — so is that miniature of Arnoud. So did I drop it, running through the city streets? Did I leave it in the workshop? You saw it, she tells herself. It was real. 

Real or not, Nella has it no longer — but the five figures that the miniaturist had put inside it still remain inside this house. The young widow, the wet-nurse, Otto and Thea, Cornelia — will they come to know the secrets of each other's lives? They are all loose threads — but that has ever been the case, thinks Nella. We make a hopeful tapestry; no one to weave it but ourselves.