This is the story of a servant girl employed in the household of the Dutch painter Vermeer, but it couldn't be called a historical novel as the author has used only those facts about his life that suit her purpose, and altered others. Is this what is called 'faction'?

She has seen in the portrait of the young girl in the painting desire for the artist, and built her story around this idea, when the model was almost certainly one of his young daughters, and the man himself led an exemplary life as far as we know. I believe his wife even asked for access to this painting after his death.

The morality of this disturbs me, although I have to confess to enjoying the book.

That's a really interesting point, Nell. Girl with A Pearl Earring was sold as a fictional what-if and I don't have a problem with that, because all writers use facts in fiction without there being any suggestion that the invented narrative somehow imposes itself on the reality of the imported detail. Did GPE cross the line? I like all what-ifs including those books that come out at Christmas where the writers give what-if afterlives to existing literature:-) shyama

Shyama, perhaps authors who write 'what-if fiction' should state that in a prominent position on the back cover or somewhere. We don't know a lot about Vermeer, and he died a long time ago, so maybe it shouldn't matter as it can't really hurt anyone. The trouble is that some members of a book club I belong to thought it was a historical novel based on fact, and that seems wrong to me. A year or so ago there was a book or film about Agatha Christie that wove a fiction about that time she went missing, and many believed that to be true. If I remember rightly she was depicted as planning to murder her husband's lover and then implicate him or her in her own death - something like that. It's like slandering the dead.

Nell.

I suppose my argument there would be that if they didn't realise it was a fiction, they didn't know much about Vermeer, and on that basis Chevalier introduced them to something new that could be followed up if they were interested enough, and if they weren't, what difference does it make? Sorry, Nell, not being devil's advocate, but I think if a book is sold on the fiction shelves, the reader has to be trusted to understand what that means - we can't extend the nanny state principle to putting printed warnings on novels reminding people that a novel is a work of the imagination. Shyama

Shyama, I don't believe in or approve of the nanny state either, I guess I just have sensitive antennae that alert me when they detect something that feels wrong. I respect your opinion but it's not necessarily right any more than mine is.

Nell.

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There's an excellent article by Simon Jenkins of The Times here:

Johannes Vermeer, You've Been Framed

Nell, that's a terrific article and utterly illuminating. I do see what you're saying, and am merely disagreeing with it - not for one moment suggesting it's incorrect:-) Having noted down a couple of your other recommended reads, I now feel duty bound to go and dig up Girl with a Pearl Earring. Yikes!! sxx

Nell, Just to say I read the book and it was utterly wonderful, so thank you for reminding us all of it. I have to say it didn't feel like 'faction' to me, and I didn't think Vermeer was in any way implicated in either encouraging or responding to the maid's desire - Chevalier's narrator is so clearly a hormonally repressed teenager in an unhappy situation. She's clever and pretty and ignored by a house full of women some of whom clearly do not match her. Her crush on her master is as much a part of her thwarted aspirations as her burgeoning sexuality. All her observations are coloured by that naivete, and it is clear in everything the painter does that his family and work are important and the maid isn't. What I thought was so clever with Chevalier's writing, was that she was constantly showing us events and behaviours that were at odds with the narrator's interpretation. Shyama.

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ps: Obviously, the only facts I know about his marriage come from you and the article to which you led me. If I had read the book cold, I have to be honest and say it would almost certainly have led me to go and reexamine Vermeer's paintings, but would not have excited my curiosity about who the model really was, or how the painting came about. It's a perfect novel, but my interest was entirely in the girl telling the story - the detail about Vermeer facilitated the telling, it was not what drove it.

Hi Shyama,

I love the painting and Vermeer - what is it about being moved by the creations of artists and writers that (illogically I suppose), seems to make us love them too? I remember seeing a documentary about Bob Dylan where he refused to speak to the audience who were calling out 'We love you Bob...' - leaving the stage to comment to the camera, 'Who are these people - they don't know me...' Ah, but they thought(knew) they did; his words and music had touched them so deeply that they loved their idea of him, and it seemed insensitive not to understand that. If I'd read The Curious Incident... and loved it before reading that interview would I have felt differently? I think it would have tainted my view of the book, but in any case I'll probably never know. Strong emotions are not so easily manipulated. Incidentally, I found a reply to Simon Jenkins from Tracy Chevalier, who seems to believe that she got it right rather than the eminent art historians who have studied Vermeer for years. IMO she'd have done better to say 'Hey - it's only a story...' Methinks the lady doth protest too much... You can read it here:

Tracy Chevalier's reply to Simon Jenkins