It made me wonder: Does true altruism even exist?

This book started off intriguing — or perhaps I’m one of those Andreas. I’ve always relished large, old homes; they seem to carry secrets, stories, and character. New homes all look the same to me these days.

As the story unfolded, it read like Daniel’s autobiography — though he claims it’s really Maeve’s story, with the Dutch House itself serving as a constant metaphor throughout. About three-quarters in, however, I found myself losing interest. The pacing slowed and drifted into a day-to-day narrative that felt somewhat repetitive.

Of all the characters, I found the mother, Elna Conroy (the first Mrs. Conroy), to be the most fascinating. Like many women, she seems to have never truly wanted children. Her purpose was not domesticity — it was service. Her values and goals revolved around helping the needy, even at the cost of motherhood. She left her children believing they’d be fine with their father, Sandy, and Jocelyn, but in doing so, she left them to chance.

As someone who’s experienced estrangement within my own family, I found it remarkable — almost unbelievable — that Daniel and, more so, Maeve were able to forgive their mother upon her return. No apologies were offered, and yet Elna embedded herself back into their lives, only to once again leave in pursuit of serving others. In the end, that very impulse — her relentless altruism — becomes the force that metaphorically fulfills their father’s foreshadowing and leads to Maeve’s downfall.

A Lesson Learned

“Our mother was a saint who couldn’t live with us because we weren’t good enough. Or maybe we were too good, too rich, too spoiled — it was hard to keep track.” — Chapter 12

“She did what she wanted to do, and what she wanted to do was to help other people. We just weren’t other people.” — Chapter 14

Who would have thought that the world’s philanthropists — in their extreme devotion to service — might lose their loved ones in the process? Elna is even compared to Mother Teresa in the book. But if someone dedicates their life to goodness, to helping others, is there not a touch of selfishness in that pursuit? Is there something to gain — or, as The Dutch House shows us, something profound to lose?

It made me wonder: Does true altruism even exist?