Review: Girl with a Pearl Earring, by Tracy Chevalier
Dutton, 1999. 233 pp. $22 originally; may be out of print

Leaving her family to work as a maid in the painter Johannes Vermeer’s house, sixteen-year-old Griet anticipates nothing but trouble. Like everywhere in Holland in 1664, Delft makes a practice (or pretense) of tolerance—and yet, the Vermeers are Catholic, whereas she’s Protestant. Will that exposure to a different faith corrupt her? Not necessarily, for she’ll be allowed home on Sundays and won’t have to attend religious services with her employers.

But Griet’s worried about much more than that. The Vermeers are middle class, whereas she’s a tile maker’s daughter. What will exposure to wealth do to her? Even before she meets them and knows who they are, she hears how different they are:

I was chopping vegetables in the kitchen when I heard voices outside our front door—a woman’s, bright as polished brass, and a man’s, low and dark like the wood of the table I was working on. They were the kind of voices we heard rarely in our house. I could hear rich carpets in their voices, books and pearls and fur.
I was glad that earlier I had scrubbed the front steps so hard.

But there’s no help for it, for her father, blinded in a kiln accident, can no longer work. Griet must take up the slack as best she can. No stranger to chores, Griet can’t begin to guess what the rich people will demand of her in their huge household of many children.

Moreover, even on that first meeting, she can tell that the woman with the voice as bright as polished brass doesn’t like her. But since Vermeer needs a maid to clean his studio, and as the man of the house, his word is law, he hires Griet. That worries the girl.

All her fears come to pass, more or less, for Griet is nothing if not clear-eyed about alliances and divisions. What she can’t reckon on is how living with a genius who creates beauty will affect her, and how the knife-edge politics of the household will shift as a result of her employ.

Consequently, though Girl with a Pearl Earring imagines how one of Vermeer’s masterpieces came to be, the novel covers a remarkable range of themes and elements. Most obviously, it’s a coming-of-age story, as Griet struggles with her desires, her growing appreciation of colors and what they convey, and to safeguard her reputation in a household (and city) ready to drag anyone down. To protect herself in this seething cauldron, she must make snap decisions that may well rebound unpleasantly.

But the story’s also about learning to see with new eyes, and how exciting that feels. Under Vermeer’s tutelage, Griet comes to understand that a painting—and therefore the world—has depths and nuances she has never dreamed of. Having been raised to distrust her own vision and to judge surfaces at face value, her discovery both exhilarates and threatens her.

It also makes her lonely, for there’s no one with whom to share it—not her parents, certainly, nor the butcher’s son, who’s wooing her. Nor can she confide just how difficult and self-absorbed her master and mistress are, for their position grants them the right to be that way. They have a devious, nasty six-year-old daughter who plots constantly against Griet, but their parents, who neglect their children, don’t see it. Rather, they project their own failings onto the maid, blaming her for the friction in the house. It’s a lot for her to carry.

One great pleasure of Girl with a Pearl Earring is how Chevalier uses every scene, every conflict to reveal seventeenth-century Delft. Seamlessly, she imbues the narrative with manners, attitudes, social and religious customs, the lip service to tolerance versus the reality that the rich get whatever they want. A lecherous patron of Vermeer’s is the villain here.

But the artist himself, though he makes no physical assault on Griet’s modesty, compromises her through demands on her time and effort without regard to her sense of herself or how others will view their working together. Griet feels, probably correctly, that she can neither refuse nor demand that he intercede with his wife or children on her behalf—not that he would bother.

Only his friend Anton van Leeuwenhoek, lens grinder and scientist, sees Vermeer for who he is and thinks to warn her. But Vermeer’s regard also pleases Griet, makes her feel special, which of course the artist senses. I like how Chevalier portrays the subtle lines of their relationship.

Chevalier has written many books, two others of which I’ve reviewed in these pages. And though I’d never say that this one is better than its successors—no author would want to hear that—I like Girl with a Pearl Earring best. Since its publication a quarter-century ago, the subgenre of historical fiction about famous artistic works has grown widely. Yet this novel stands out, still.

Disclaimer: I pulled this book off my shelf, thinking I should revisit it, especially with a trip to Holland in the offing. I’m glad I did, and the Mauritshuis was a highlight of my trip.