Status
Available
Call number
Publication
Hogarth
Pages
310
Description
Two couples meet for dinner at a fashionable restaurant in Amsterdam. Behind their polite conversation, terrible things need to be said, and with every forced smile and every new course, the knives are being sharpened. Each couple has a fifteen-year-old son. The two boys are united by their accountability for a single horrific act; an act that has triggered a police investigation and shattered the comfortable, insulated worlds of their families. As the dinner reaches its culinary climax, the conversation finally touches on their children. As civility and friendship disintegrate, each couple show just how far they are prepared to go to protect those they love.
Collection
Language
Original language
Dutch
Original publication date
2009-01
Physical description
310 p.; 8 inches
ISBN
9780385346856
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Media reviews
If you want to enjoy Herman Koch’s new novel, don’t read a single thing about it. To do so seriously reduces its power. Don’t read the blurbs on its dust jacket — an impressive list of authors that includes Gillian Flynn and S.J. Watson — nor the synopsis on the inside flap. Don’t even
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read this review. Actually, forget that — come back! It’s spoiler-free, I promise. . . . The Dinner is the kind of book I wish could be translated into English more often. Show Less
The Dinner, a suspense novel by Herman Koch, has sold over a million copies since it was published in Europe in 2009, and it's not difficult to understand the appeal. It's fast-paced and riveting. Written in cool, detached prose (deftly translated from the Dutch by Sam Garrett), The Dinner is as
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theatrical and dramatic as a well-crafted play. It's also nasty. It starts off as social satire but shifts gears, and you find yourself in the middle of a horror story. . . . Mr. Koch delivers his revelations cleverly, by the spoonful. Issues of morality, responsibility and punishment are raised along the way, and a Pinteresque menace lurks under the surface. When savagery takes over, the reader is shocked. But some of Mr. Koch's conclusions are a bit too pat. In the end, the book sits on the digestion less like an over-indulgent "fine dining" experience than Chinese food, which, as we all know, leaves you feeling hungry a couple of hours later. Show Less
“The Dinner,” Herman Koch’s internationally popular novel, is an extended stunt. Mr. Koch confines his story to one fraught restaurant meal, where malice, cruelty, craziness and a deeply European malaise are very much on the menu.
"The Dinner” has been wishfully compared to Gillian Flynn’s
"The Dinner” has been wishfully compared to Gillian Flynn’s
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“Gone Girl” (and enthusiastically endorsed by Ms. Flynn) for its blackhearted deviltry. But her book, with its dueling narrators, had two vicious but sympathetic voices. Her sneaky spouses were delectable in their evil genius. The Lohmans are indigestible. Show Less
“The Dinner,” Herman Koch’s internationally popular novel, is an extended stunt. Mr. Koch confines his story to one fraught restaurant meal, where malice, cruelty, craziness and a deeply European malaise are very much on the menu. The four diners can leave the table occasionally, headed to
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the restrooms or the garden or the handy room of flashback memories. But mostly they sit and seethe at one another as a miserable night unfolds.
This book has been widely described as both thriller and chiller, but it really is neither.
But it’s the morality of the story that’s really sickening. Show Less
Welsh is intrigued by a novel reminiscent of The Slap and Carnage
Son roman, si bien construit, nous laisse finalement avec une poignée de questions sur la morale et ses sales petits arrangements.
De hel, dat is bijvoorbeeld een eeuwigdurend verblijf in Renaat Braems afzichtelijke politietoren in Antwerpen. Maar een duur diner voor twee stellen, zoals in Herman Kochs meesterlijke nieuwe roman, blijkt ook een mogelijkheid.
Maar het écht buitengewoon knappe van deze roman is dat deze
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nuchter-geestige Paul zich in de loop van het verhaal ontpopt als iemand voor wie je allengs minder en minder sympathie gaat voelen (- om maar één ding te noemen: heeft hij eigenlijk niet last van nare geweldsfantasieën?). Show Less
Na Het diner kan niemand meer ontkennen dat Herman Koch een volleerd schrijver is. Hoe ver ga je om je kind te beschermen?
Tezamen bezorgen al die zorgvuldig in stelling gebrachte 'flarden' de van een strakke plot voorziene roman Het diner een dwingend karakter: de lezer is getuige van een
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persoonlijke ramp, die zich nú voltrekt. Maar op een ander niveau zou deze gespannen relatie tussen de broers kunnen staan voor de zogenaamde kloof tussen burger en politiek. Show Less
Herman Koch is het schrijven niet verleerd. Prachtig vervreemdend zijn bijvoorbeeld de bladzijden waar wordt beschreven dat de verteller buiten het restaurant staat te wachten op zijn op de fiets eraan sprintende zoon.
En ja, zo is Koch op zijn best, schitterend denkend en schrijvend tot aan de
En ja, zo is Koch op zijn best, schitterend denkend en schrijvend tot aan de
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uiterste consequentie en niet ingesnoerd door iets wat zo wezenlijk kinderachtig is als een verbazingwekkende plot. Show Less
Maar één ding moet gelukkig ook worden vastgesteld: Herman Koch is het schrijven niet verleerd. Prachtig vervreemdend zijn bijvoorbeeld de bladzijden waar wordt beschreven dat de verteller buiten het restaurant staat te wachten op zijn op de fiets eraan sprintende zoon: 'Michel kwam langszij. Wat
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zag hij? Een man die op zijn dooie akkertje door het park slenterde? Met een mobieltje aan zijn oor? Of zag hij zijn vader? Met of zonder mobiel?'
De passages waarin de verteller thuis op de bank ligt te denken, behoren eveneens tot de hoogtepunten van dit boek: 'Iets fluisterde mij in dat ik met denken moest stoppen, dat ik vooral niet te ver door moest denken. Maar dat lukte nooit, ik dacht de dingen altijd door tot aan het eind, tot aan hun uiterste consequentie.'
En ja, zo is Koch op zijn best, schitterend denkend en schrijvend tot aan de uiterste consequentie en niet ingesnoerd door iets wat zo wezenlijk kinderachtig is als een verbazingwekkende plot. Show Less
Even confronterend zijn de passages waarin Koch de quasi-deftige gewoonten van obers en restauranthouders tegen het licht houdt: gerechten met de pink aanwijzen, vertellen dat het lamsboutje van een boerderij komt waar de dieren gelukkig zijn. Geen restaurantbezoek zal meer hetzelfde zijn na lezing
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van Het diner.
Valt er op dit boek dan niets aan te merken? Een kleinigheid: compositorisch komt het hoofdstuk over Pauls onderwijsverleden enigszins uit de lucht vallen. Maar afgezet tegen de zorgvuldige bouw van de rest van het boek, Kochs opvallend effectieve timing, en bovenal de vele geestige observaties van menselijke ijdelheid, is dat beslist overkomelijk. Show Less
User reviews
LibraryThing member brenzi
”Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”
Echoing Tolstoy’s words, this is a book about families. Oh, not yours or, thank God, mine; but the families of the protagonist Paul Lohman and his brother Serge. They and their wives, Claire and Babett, are
Paul is our narrator and it is not a stretch at all to say he hates most things and particularly detests his much more successful politician-brother. The only things he seems to esteem are his wife and son. He would do anything for them and I do mean anything. No crime is beyond consideration in defense of his family or what he believes to be wrongs done to his family. Add to this the fact that his temperament is so volatile that he may blow at any time and you can see the possibilities for danger are at a very high level. He lost his job as a high school history teacher twelve years before and is being treated for some sort of psychiatric condition. However, he’s decided he no longer needs to take the prescribed medication. He has a fairly low opinion of the average Dutch citizen and espouses a commentary on the merits of the far right political persuasion. He’s fairly crazy. His wife knows just what buttons to push to get a violent reaction out of her husband when it’s to her advantage.
As the story unfolds, layer by layer, I fully expected the narrative to reveal parents with at least a semblance of moral fiber but it was not to be. Not one character with a single redeeming characteristic, leaving me no one with whom to sympathize. They are all, in one way or another, somewhat (or entirely) scumbags. So although the book was gripping, it was also unsettling and very, very dark, and it left me feeling totally bereft and this “dinner” left me slightly nauseous. Some have compared it to Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl but I don’t see that at all. Nick and Amy were characters I found myself sympathizing with. I think someone who appreciates seedy unreliable narrators surrounded by characters of similar ilk would value the book more than I did.
Echoing Tolstoy’s words, this is a book about families. Oh, not yours or, thank God, mine; but the families of the protagonist Paul Lohman and his brother Serge. They and their wives, Claire and Babett, are
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having dinner at a very upscale Amsterdam restaurant but beneath the surface of idle conversation, their real reason for getting together on that particular evening has a dark and seamy side.Paul is our narrator and it is not a stretch at all to say he hates most things and particularly detests his much more successful politician-brother. The only things he seems to esteem are his wife and son. He would do anything for them and I do mean anything. No crime is beyond consideration in defense of his family or what he believes to be wrongs done to his family. Add to this the fact that his temperament is so volatile that he may blow at any time and you can see the possibilities for danger are at a very high level. He lost his job as a high school history teacher twelve years before and is being treated for some sort of psychiatric condition. However, he’s decided he no longer needs to take the prescribed medication. He has a fairly low opinion of the average Dutch citizen and espouses a commentary on the merits of the far right political persuasion. He’s fairly crazy. His wife knows just what buttons to push to get a violent reaction out of her husband when it’s to her advantage.
As the story unfolds, layer by layer, I fully expected the narrative to reveal parents with at least a semblance of moral fiber but it was not to be. Not one character with a single redeeming characteristic, leaving me no one with whom to sympathize. They are all, in one way or another, somewhat (or entirely) scumbags. So although the book was gripping, it was also unsettling and very, very dark, and it left me feeling totally bereft and this “dinner” left me slightly nauseous. Some have compared it to Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl but I don’t see that at all. Nick and Amy were characters I found myself sympathizing with. I think someone who appreciates seedy unreliable narrators surrounded by characters of similar ilk would value the book more than I did.
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LibraryThing member bragan
I don't want to say too much about the story here, as a big part of the experience of this novel is the way we learn very gradually who these characters are and what's been going on with them. I will say that it takes place over the course of one dinner in a fancy restaurant, that there are four
I will also say this... I've seen a lot of discussion, especially recently, about the question of whether it's necessary for a story's protagonist to be "likeable." I am, in general, on the "heck, no!" side of that debate. Likeable characters can be wonderful, and some kinds of stories really do need them. A novel in which the author wants to make his characters likeable and fails, for instance, can be painful in the extreme. But unpleasant and unsympathetic people can still be interesting, often deeply so, and can take us places, psychologically, where the nice guys can't necessarily go. So, yeah, my general attitude is, "Jerkwad characters? As long as they're interesting, bring 'em on!"
Well, I feel as if this book looked into my brain, saw that statement there, and took it as a challenge. As if it's trying very, very hard to push the limits of what I'm willing to accept on that score. As if it's daring me to feel so disgusted by these people it's sat me down to dinner with that I simply put the book down and don't pick it up again. Much to my surprise, there were moments when I actually wanted to do that. But I never did. In fact, it's more accurate to say that I kept tearing through the pages with a sort of compulsive trainwreck fascination. And in the end, in its own awful way, it really worked for me.
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people at said dinner, and that the novel is narrated by one of them, a man who -- it is clear from the outset -- doesn't particularly want to be there, and is currently feeling troubled about an issue involving his teenage son.I will also say this... I've seen a lot of discussion, especially recently, about the question of whether it's necessary for a story's protagonist to be "likeable." I am, in general, on the "heck, no!" side of that debate. Likeable characters can be wonderful, and some kinds of stories really do need them. A novel in which the author wants to make his characters likeable and fails, for instance, can be painful in the extreme. But unpleasant and unsympathetic people can still be interesting, often deeply so, and can take us places, psychologically, where the nice guys can't necessarily go. So, yeah, my general attitude is, "Jerkwad characters? As long as they're interesting, bring 'em on!"
Well, I feel as if this book looked into my brain, saw that statement there, and took it as a challenge. As if it's trying very, very hard to push the limits of what I'm willing to accept on that score. As if it's daring me to feel so disgusted by these people it's sat me down to dinner with that I simply put the book down and don't pick it up again. Much to my surprise, there were moments when I actually wanted to do that. But I never did. In fact, it's more accurate to say that I kept tearing through the pages with a sort of compulsive trainwreck fascination. And in the end, in its own awful way, it really worked for me.
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LibraryThing member phebj
“not all victims are automatically innocent victims”
This is a tough book to review because it’s hard to discuss the plot without giving things away but also because I had mixed feelings about it. It’s a psychological thriller that takes place over the course of a meal at an upscale
Paul narrates the story and seems likeable enough at first with his musings about his happy family and his love of his wife and son. His contempt for his brother, a politician, and for the somewhat ridiculous staff of the pretentious restaurant don’t seem out of the ordinary. But as the dinner progresses and we learn the reason for it--what to do about the Lohmans’ sons who have been involved in a horrific crime that was caught on tape--the story becomes increasingly unsettling. And it’s not so much because of what the teenage boys have done as it is what the parents propose to do about it.
With a book like this you expect surprises and you start to speculate on where things are going. There were many twists and turns and I don’t think I saw any of them coming which made it a very gripping but also a very disturbing read. And the end I found chilling. When I finished it last night, I was very upset about the characters--none of them were likeable and I can only hope there are not too many people like this in the real world. But this morning, I found myself thinking about all the issues the book raised--individual responsibility, the role of society (or lack thereof) in looking after those less fortunate, deception of others and the self, the nature of evil, the nature vs. nurture debate, family loyalty, and just what a parent should do in a situation like this--and realized this is a book that will stay with me.
Because of the disturbing nature of this book, I’m reluctant to recommend it. On the plus side, it’s a page turner and it’s thought provoking, two things I love. On the negative side, it’s almost too dark and deeply unsettling. I guess my advice would be to take it out of the library if you think you might be interested in it. I may even come back and increase my rating after I have some distance from the ending.
This is a tough book to review because it’s hard to discuss the plot without giving things away but also because I had mixed feelings about it. It’s a psychological thriller that takes place over the course of a meal at an upscale
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restaurant in Amsterdam. The diners are two brothers, Paul and Serge Lohman and their respective wives, Claire and Babette. Paul narrates the story and seems likeable enough at first with his musings about his happy family and his love of his wife and son. His contempt for his brother, a politician, and for the somewhat ridiculous staff of the pretentious restaurant don’t seem out of the ordinary. But as the dinner progresses and we learn the reason for it--what to do about the Lohmans’ sons who have been involved in a horrific crime that was caught on tape--the story becomes increasingly unsettling. And it’s not so much because of what the teenage boys have done as it is what the parents propose to do about it.
With a book like this you expect surprises and you start to speculate on where things are going. There were many twists and turns and I don’t think I saw any of them coming which made it a very gripping but also a very disturbing read. And the end I found chilling. When I finished it last night, I was very upset about the characters--none of them were likeable and I can only hope there are not too many people like this in the real world. But this morning, I found myself thinking about all the issues the book raised--individual responsibility, the role of society (or lack thereof) in looking after those less fortunate, deception of others and the self, the nature of evil, the nature vs. nurture debate, family loyalty, and just what a parent should do in a situation like this--and realized this is a book that will stay with me.
Because of the disturbing nature of this book, I’m reluctant to recommend it. On the plus side, it’s a page turner and it’s thought provoking, two things I love. On the negative side, it’s almost too dark and deeply unsettling. I guess my advice would be to take it out of the library if you think you might be interested in it. I may even come back and increase my rating after I have some distance from the ending.
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LibraryThing member lauralkeet
Two Dutch couples meet for dinner in an expensive restaurant: Paul and Claire, Paul's brother Serge and his wife Babette. Their meeting at first seems purely social, and something they do together from time to time. But from minute details strategically placed in the narrative, the reader begins
Paul narrates the events of that evening, filling in family history along the way. The result is a kind of cross between We Need to Talk About Kevin (troubled teens committing horrific acts) and The Reluctant Fundamentalist (disturbing scenes unfolding over a meal). Neither family is what they seem at the outset. Paul is an unreliable narrator, failing to see the damage resulting from his behavior over the years.
None of the characters are likeable; in fact, they are all pretty horrible. And the story is unpleasant, too. Normally that would be enough to make me hate a book. Why didn't that happen this time? Because I was really intrigued by Koch's writing. I liked the way he meted out relevant details, first in tiny fragments and then in increasingly obvious chunks. He deftly showed us not only the nature of the boys' crime, but events that directly and indirectly made it possible, and made me question who really was the guilty party in this case. The book was hard to put down and I finished it in just a couple of days; however, its dark, disturbing nature means it's one I cannot recommend unequivocally.
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developing a different picture. Just before leaving the house, Paul discovers disturbing content on his son Michel's phone, but chooses not to mention it to Claire. Paul detects signs of distress when Serge and Babette arrive at the restaurant. We learn their son Rick was involved in a crime, as was Michel. But what do the parents actually know? What will they do about it? And how did two boys from "good families" get into this situation?Paul narrates the events of that evening, filling in family history along the way. The result is a kind of cross between We Need to Talk About Kevin (troubled teens committing horrific acts) and The Reluctant Fundamentalist (disturbing scenes unfolding over a meal). Neither family is what they seem at the outset. Paul is an unreliable narrator, failing to see the damage resulting from his behavior over the years.
None of the characters are likeable; in fact, they are all pretty horrible. And the story is unpleasant, too. Normally that would be enough to make me hate a book. Why didn't that happen this time? Because I was really intrigued by Koch's writing. I liked the way he meted out relevant details, first in tiny fragments and then in increasingly obvious chunks. He deftly showed us not only the nature of the boys' crime, but events that directly and indirectly made it possible, and made me question who really was the guilty party in this case. The book was hard to put down and I finished it in just a couple of days; however, its dark, disturbing nature means it's one I cannot recommend unequivocally.
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LibraryThing member lkernagh
I decided to read this one based on the interesting reviews I had been seeing here on LT. I haven't read Flynn's Gone Girl - not sure if it is the type of book for me - but I figured, anything that can be billed as A European Gone Girl by the Wall Street Journal might be worth checking out while I
The pace picks up when we learn the unsettling information that Paul discovered just before heading out for dinner with his wife. At this point the story also starts to go off on different tangents and this is when I started to lose interest in this one. The story is divided into sections based on the meal's various courses - Apertif, Appetizer, Main Course, Dessert and Digestif - which seems to help anchor the author to return from his various story tangents back to the evening in question. While Koch has a gift for getting inside of the mind of his narrator and for the written word, I felt that the story just tries too hard to be a deeply psychological and sociological examination of the individuals at the heart of the crime issue the story is focused on.
I feel that this story would have been a better read if it had been written as a short novella focused on the present and the viewpoints of our diners, foregoing all the excessive extra baggage of Paul that we are exposed to.
Not something that I would recommend unless you are already a fan of Koch's writing or really like to delve into the darker psychosis of a disturbed mind, that is presented in a rather disjointed manner.
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wait for my turn at a copy of Gone Girl]. Set on a summer's evening in Amsterdam, two couples meet for dinner at a high end restaurant. The story starts out slow, focusing on the inner thoughts/feelings/emotions of our narrator, Paul Lohman, as the dinner guests assemble and engage in the usual dinner conversation dialogue. A lot of mundane menusha is imparted here but in an interesting way for anyone, like me, that enjoys engaging in people watching while in public settings. The pace picks up when we learn the unsettling information that Paul discovered just before heading out for dinner with his wife. At this point the story also starts to go off on different tangents and this is when I started to lose interest in this one. The story is divided into sections based on the meal's various courses - Apertif, Appetizer, Main Course, Dessert and Digestif - which seems to help anchor the author to return from his various story tangents back to the evening in question. While Koch has a gift for getting inside of the mind of his narrator and for the written word, I felt that the story just tries too hard to be a deeply psychological and sociological examination of the individuals at the heart of the crime issue the story is focused on.
I feel that this story would have been a better read if it had been written as a short novella focused on the present and the viewpoints of our diners, foregoing all the excessive extra baggage of Paul that we are exposed to.
Not something that I would recommend unless you are already a fan of Koch's writing or really like to delve into the darker psychosis of a disturbed mind, that is presented in a rather disjointed manner.
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LibraryThing member anissaannalise
I had to sit & think about this one for a bit. I'm still thinking & that tells me that even if I won't be raving about how excellent it was or how much I loved it, I did enjoy it & found it well worth reading. The Lohmans are basically a family of sociopaths. The set up is that the parents (Paul,
The narrator, Paul, was a trying sort. That we spend the first six chapters only with him complaining about virtually everything except his wife & son & hyping his brother up to be the very worst thing to ever have happened to him & possibly politics in general, it was pretty clear early on that something was not quite right about Paul. He was working inferiority, martyrdom & outright avarice like a skilled juggler. Call for Unreliable Narrator? Paul? It's for you. Just when I was about to throw in the towel with him Serge & Babette arrive & even through Paul's maddeningly twisted veil, things became more tolerable. It takes a bit longer into the story to discover Claire's twisted nature because we have Paul dispensing information & he's truly enamoured of her. Serge & Babette aren't good either but I didn't find them as wholly morally bankrupt. By the very end it's completely underscored, just in case you missed it, how insanely far Claire, Paul & even Michel will go to keep things under wraps. I'd say that they deserved one another but when existing in a viper pit, there's only a matter of time before two may turn against one. Then again, maybe that's as it should be.
Overall, this is one hell of a family portraiture. If you like books where most/all parties are morally bankrupt & people you'd never want to know, you'll love it. If you want a read where you'll get the warm & fuzzies, skip this. If you get the warm & fuzzies from this, see someone professionally. ;)
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Claire, Serge & Babette) get together for dinner at a posh restaurant to discuss a vile crime by their children (Michel & Rick). The scary thing is that the vile crime is not the ugliest bit of the story. No. As the discussion over the meal progresses, it's revealed that the parents are particular nasty pieces of work & they probably shouldn't be walking around unfettered & unmedicated either. The narrator, Paul, was a trying sort. That we spend the first six chapters only with him complaining about virtually everything except his wife & son & hyping his brother up to be the very worst thing to ever have happened to him & possibly politics in general, it was pretty clear early on that something was not quite right about Paul. He was working inferiority, martyrdom & outright avarice like a skilled juggler. Call for Unreliable Narrator? Paul? It's for you. Just when I was about to throw in the towel with him Serge & Babette arrive & even through Paul's maddeningly twisted veil, things became more tolerable. It takes a bit longer into the story to discover Claire's twisted nature because we have Paul dispensing information & he's truly enamoured of her. Serge & Babette aren't good either but I didn't find them as wholly morally bankrupt. By the very end it's completely underscored, just in case you missed it, how insanely far Claire, Paul & even Michel will go to keep things under wraps. I'd say that they deserved one another but when existing in a viper pit, there's only a matter of time before two may turn against one. Then again, maybe that's as it should be.
Overall, this is one hell of a family portraiture. If you like books where most/all parties are morally bankrupt & people you'd never want to know, you'll love it. If you want a read where you'll get the warm & fuzzies, skip this. If you get the warm & fuzzies from this, see someone professionally. ;)
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LibraryThing member MichelleMF
I am woefully unprepared to properly review this book. I received it yesterday and consumed in great, torn-off hunks in every free moment. Unlike Gone Girl, which is something of a wild, fast ride that takes you exactly nowhere, The Dinner consigns you to its utterly brutal journey, partly due to
It is a book that begs to be re-read at least once, and discussed with others in person. Ideally, with readers who are enthusiastic to discuss it, regardless of whether they hated it or loved it. An ideal gathering would certainly include both, in my opinion. And, yes, a gathering over food. After all, why not?
Perhaps I will have something of merit to add to this review at a later date, but in the meantime, I am speechless. Bravo, Mr. Koch.
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its authorial elegance and the rising tide of complexities contained within.It is a book that begs to be re-read at least once, and discussed with others in person. Ideally, with readers who are enthusiastic to discuss it, regardless of whether they hated it or loved it. An ideal gathering would certainly include both, in my opinion. And, yes, a gathering over food. After all, why not?
Perhaps I will have something of merit to add to this review at a later date, but in the meantime, I am speechless. Bravo, Mr. Koch.
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LibraryThing member jayne_charles
I loved this beautifully written and perfectly paced novel. At the beginning, we meet the narrator Paul, a man with a chip on his shoulder the size of a small country, whose snippy observations about the world in general and his high-profile politician brother in particular, were an unmitigated
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delight. As the novel progresses, it becomes darker, and whilst it is still funny, it is also very unsettling. A masterclass in the unreliable-narrator genre, it was brilliant from start to finish. I hope some of this author’s other work has been translated into English – definitely one I’d read more by. Show Less
LibraryThing member Casey_Marie
First let me clarify. If half ratings were possible, I would give this 3.5 stars. Now let the reviewing commence:
The Dinner seems to revolve around an Anna Karenina quote, "All happy families are alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." As two couples, specifically two brothers and
This however is not your typical variation on the theme of keeping family together at all costs, wherein the reader can usually empathize with the characters, or at the very least, rationalize their actions. What we find in The Dinner is four utterly despicable characters, with the most heinous representation found in the unreliable narrator Paul. However, their grotesque nature makes for all the more interesting of a read in my opinion. Underneath their facade of fastidious decorum and ostentatious "civilization," rage and emotions bordering on sociopathy simmer. According the NYT review of the novel, The Dinner is supposedly attuned to a "distinctly European society," one that is superficially concerned with civility and ashamed of its underlying savagery. I however think that this novel has more global implications. Set during the Bush era, amidst two wars, I believe Koch is meditating on the wider theme of violence as a means to proverbially "keep the peace," or violence as a legitimized and rational response to any form of conflict. But, this is just my opinion.
I really enjoyed the structure of the novel, which I contend is one its stronger facets. The setting is an extremely important aspect in this book, because as each course arrives for our diners, our own appetite, hunger and curiosity increase for the unfolding story. It is through this staccato structure that Koch manages to achieve a compelling, attention grabbing and intentionally frustrating read for his audience.
The Dinner seems to revolve around an Anna Karenina quote, "All happy families are alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." As two couples, specifically two brothers and
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their respective spouses, sit down to a meal at an overly pretentious dining establishment, the specific brand of their unhappiness is exposed as each course unfolds. Between platitudes, critiques of Woody Allen films, and overly extended explanations of their culinary items, a dark secret about their respective sons hovers over the table and eventually comes to a boil by the time dessert is served.This however is not your typical variation on the theme of keeping family together at all costs, wherein the reader can usually empathize with the characters, or at the very least, rationalize their actions. What we find in The Dinner is four utterly despicable characters, with the most heinous representation found in the unreliable narrator Paul. However, their grotesque nature makes for all the more interesting of a read in my opinion. Underneath their facade of fastidious decorum and ostentatious "civilization," rage and emotions bordering on sociopathy simmer. According the NYT review of the novel, The Dinner is supposedly attuned to a "distinctly European society," one that is superficially concerned with civility and ashamed of its underlying savagery. I however think that this novel has more global implications. Set during the Bush era, amidst two wars, I believe Koch is meditating on the wider theme of violence as a means to proverbially "keep the peace," or violence as a legitimized and rational response to any form of conflict. But, this is just my opinion.
I really enjoyed the structure of the novel, which I contend is one its stronger facets. The setting is an extremely important aspect in this book, because as each course arrives for our diners, our own appetite, hunger and curiosity increase for the unfolding story. It is through this staccato structure that Koch manages to achieve a compelling, attention grabbing and intentionally frustrating read for his audience.
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LibraryThing member AnnB2013
Fun, quick read. Zero character development. Annoying made-up disease.
LibraryThing member Schmerguls
This novel was published in Dutch in 2009 and in Englsh in 2012. It tells of a dinner Paul and his wife has been invited to by his brother Serge, who is on track to be the next prime minister.. Serge wants to talk about an evil act that their 15-year-old sons have committed. Paul is the narrator of
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the novel and we soon see that he is a most unpleasant and criminally-inclined man. In fact, that his brother has any thing to do with him, in view of their past interactions, seems most improbable. A more tension-filled dinner is hard to imagine. The novel seems to suggest that abortion should have prevented people like Paul and his son from being born and one wonders it that is the message the book seeks to project--or that the Dutch criminal justice system is overly lenient. Not a pleasant book. Show Less
LibraryThing member karieh
I was drawn to this book by the comments on the cover from Gillian Flynn. I loved “Gone Girl” and if she says it is “unputdownable” – I was in.
Well.
I put it down many times. Simply put – these characters are so vile, so inhumanly selfish and self-absorbed that I couldn’t stand being
Paul and his wife Claire are having dinner with his brother Serge and his wife Babette. This dinner takes up most of the book – with flashbacks to the events that lead to the meal. The subject of the meal, though unspoken through most of it, is an incident involving their children. And once the details of that incident start coming out, and the parenting that led to that moment, it’s a good thing the reader isn’t actually at the dinner or they might become ill.
The way that Paul talks to his son Michel (years before this story takes place) is one of the first and biggest hints that something is VERY wrong here. Michel has kicked a ball through a shop window, destroying it. Paul’s reaction is unexpected, to say the least.
“Michel, listen. There’s no reason to be sad. That was a nasty man. I told him that. You didn’t do anything wrong. All you did was kick a ball through a window.”
Then, “That man is not a good man. That man is just a piece of trash who hates kids who are playing. It doesn’t matter whether I would have hit him over the head with that pump. Besides, if I had, he would only have had himself to blame. No, what matters is that he thought I was going to hit him, and that was enough.” Michel looked at me earnestly. I had chosen my words carefully, because I didn’t want to make him cry again.”
As the story continues, the reader finds out that this is far from an isolated incident. Paul has inappropriate reactions to many aspects of daily life, eerily inappropriate, and yet he is able to stay within the realm of normal society. And – he has a son that seems to be growing up just like him.
To distract public attention from the incident involving his son, Paul hopes “A needed to break out somewhere; a terrorist attack might even be better – plenty of fatalities, lots of civilian casualties over whom people could shake their heads in dismay. Ambulances driving up and away, the twisted steel of train or subway cars, a ten-story building with the façade blown out…” Instead of just wishing, as most parents would, that either the incident had never happened or that time would help fade the event, he imagines death and destruction in graphic detail.
Like I said, I am OK with dark. But this, this story about vile people who are parents – who are approving and creating more vile people like them, just really turned me off. I hope, in my heart of hearts, that the number of people in our world like Paul is very, very small. This book, which walks a disturbing line between realistic and absurd, is not one I will likely revisit…or soon forget.
Well.
I put it down many times. Simply put – these characters are so vile, so inhumanly selfish and self-absorbed that I couldn’t stand being
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in either their heads or their world for too long at a time. I’m fine with dark, I’m fine with unlikable characters…if they are interesting and if they have their moments of relatability. I need something to grab on to – some reason to see the story through to the end. But this group of people – of psychopaths, really – were to a one – horrible people. Worse, they were horrible people who thought they were better than the normal people they lived amongst.Paul and his wife Claire are having dinner with his brother Serge and his wife Babette. This dinner takes up most of the book – with flashbacks to the events that lead to the meal. The subject of the meal, though unspoken through most of it, is an incident involving their children. And once the details of that incident start coming out, and the parenting that led to that moment, it’s a good thing the reader isn’t actually at the dinner or they might become ill.
The way that Paul talks to his son Michel (years before this story takes place) is one of the first and biggest hints that something is VERY wrong here. Michel has kicked a ball through a shop window, destroying it. Paul’s reaction is unexpected, to say the least.
“Michel, listen. There’s no reason to be sad. That was a nasty man. I told him that. You didn’t do anything wrong. All you did was kick a ball through a window.”
Then, “That man is not a good man. That man is just a piece of trash who hates kids who are playing. It doesn’t matter whether I would have hit him over the head with that pump. Besides, if I had, he would only have had himself to blame. No, what matters is that he thought I was going to hit him, and that was enough.” Michel looked at me earnestly. I had chosen my words carefully, because I didn’t want to make him cry again.”
As the story continues, the reader finds out that this is far from an isolated incident. Paul has inappropriate reactions to many aspects of daily life, eerily inappropriate, and yet he is able to stay within the realm of normal society. And – he has a son that seems to be growing up just like him.
To distract public attention from the incident involving his son, Paul hopes “A needed to break out somewhere; a terrorist attack might even be better – plenty of fatalities, lots of civilian casualties over whom people could shake their heads in dismay. Ambulances driving up and away, the twisted steel of train or subway cars, a ten-story building with the façade blown out…” Instead of just wishing, as most parents would, that either the incident had never happened or that time would help fade the event, he imagines death and destruction in graphic detail.
Like I said, I am OK with dark. But this, this story about vile people who are parents – who are approving and creating more vile people like them, just really turned me off. I hope, in my heart of hearts, that the number of people in our world like Paul is very, very small. This book, which walks a disturbing line between realistic and absurd, is not one I will likely revisit…or soon forget.
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LibraryThing member cookiemo
This was an unusual book. It seemed to jump all over the place, although it all fitted together by the end. A few times I had trouble realising what was happening. The events in it are interesting and the parental attitudes to these are even more interesting. I say I would not react as the
I am glad I read this as it was thought provoking
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characters have done, but then I have never been placed in this position ( and never hope to) so I honestly don't know how I would react I am glad I read this as it was thought provoking
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LibraryThing member Beamis12
First book that I have rated so highly even though I did not like any of the characters. This is a book of moral complexity narrated by an unreliable narrator, who at first seems to take the politeness and political correctness out of all conversations at dinner. He does this basically inside
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himself, not outside where any can hear but he is extremely skeptical of almost everything. From the beginning the reader knows this is not going to be a lighthearted dinner between siblings, the tension is felt almost immediately, but it is very hard to guess where exactly this will lead. So despite the fact that I did not like any of these people I still wanted to keep reading to find out what was going on. Psychological suspense for sure and I now know what Maureen's whoa meant. Show Less
LibraryThing member Schatje
This contemporary family drama is set in a chic, upscale restaurant in Amsterdam. Paul and Claire Lohman meet Serge and Babette for dinner to discuss what to do about their 15-year-old sons, Michel and Rick, who were partners in a despicable crime.
Paul is the narrator. From the beginning he makes
Gradually, however, the reader begins to suspect that Paul is not a reliable narrator. Flashbacks suggest that Paul is perhaps not as reasonable as he tries to appear. There may be more to the tension between the brothers than just sibling rivalry. The reader’s sympathies will tend to shift away, but none of the four proves to be a likeable character so the reader may face a dilemma in terms of finding someone towards whom to direct his/her sympathies.
Paul’s pre-occupation is the happiness of his family. At the beginning, he quotes the opening sentence of "Anna Karenina": “’Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.’” Above all else, he wants his family to continue to be happy. When footage of Michel’s crime shows up on the internet, Paul worries about the “connection between the images from the security camera and our own happy family.” When he fears that Michel’s involvement in the crime might become public knowledge, he worries, “Our life as a happy family would never be the same.” At the end, he speculates about whether “a happy family can survive a shipwreck.”
All of these references, of course, point to the novel’s major themes: What comprises a family? What constitutes a happy family? Can a family survive secrets? To what lengths should parents go to protect their children and preserve their happiness? Is nature or nurture more significant in determining the personality and behaviour of children?
I found the examination of the nature versus nature debate particularly interesting. At one Paul seems to be dismissive of both when he mentions Michel’s dislike of sweet desserts: “we would have let him have any dessert he liked, so you couldn’t blame it on his upbringing. It was hereditary. Yes, that was the only word for it. If heredity existed, if anything was hereditary, then it had to be our shared aversion to sweet desserts.” Despite his disavowal of heredity, he does worry about his son inheriting a genetic disease. Paul also refers to heredity when discussing Beau, Serge’s adopted son: “What did my brother know about heredity? All right, maybe when it came to his own children: his own flesh and blood. But what about Beau? When did you simply have to admit that something had apparently been inherited from someone else? From the biological parents in Africa? To what extent could Serge, for his part,distance himself from the actions of his adopted son?” Tellingly, Paul himself never wonders whether he bears any blame for his biological son’s misdeeds; he doesn’t ever consider that Michel might have inherited or learned his father’s tendency to abdicate responsibility for his actions.
Another fixation of Paul’s is the need for normalcy. He sometimes mocks his brother’s need to be seen as normal by the voters: “He was normal, he was human: anyone who voted for Serge Lohman was voting for a normal and human prime minister.” Yet at the same time, he focuses on the importance of a semblance of normality; he thinks the scandal of his son’s crime will eventually be forgotten but “In the meantime, I would act as normally as possible. Do normal things.” When Claire was hospitalized, Paul set himself a goal: “I wanted to keep up the appearance of normalcy.” He wanted a “normal evening” with his son and even the night before she had surgery, he didn’t visit her because he wanted everything for his son “as normal as possible.” Babette says, “’We, of all people, know that you’re doing your very best to make things seem as normal as possible for Michel. But it’s not normal. The situation isn’t normal. . . . you can’t expect anyone to run a normal household.’” The novel’s 30+ repetitions of “normal” emphasize people’s need for a façade of decency and respectability; of course, the Lohmans’ façades are threatened and we see their inner characters as they struggle to prevent them from being shattered.
The book is not flawless. The meeting in a public place to have a meeting to discuss a private family matter seems staged only to allow for comparisons between the five courses of the meal (aperitif, appetizer, main course, dessert, and digestif) and the stages of the discussion that occur. For example, the main course is long in coming just as the real reason for the dinner meeting is not explained until midway through the evening. Is Serge’s way of tackling the entrée a metaphor for his way of tackling the problem? Could Babette’s reaction to the dessert be a metaphor for her attitude to dealing with the problem at hand?
The narrator’s way of withholding information is sometimes annoying. When discussing an illness Claire had years earlier, he says, “I’m not going to say what was wrong with Claire, not here. I consider that a private matter. It’s nobody’s business.” When referring to a medical condition with which he was once diagnosed, he is likewise unspecific: The doctor “had mentioned a name. A German-sounding name. It was the surname of a neurologist who’d had this particular disorder named after him.” Can anyone tell me if amniocentesis testing can detect mental illness?
There are several references to the small portions of food and the large portions of empty plates; that’s how this novel reads. There are portions of the story that are missing, and the reader keeps reading to fill his/her plate, to fill the “two full inches of empty plate away from the actual main course.” In the end, the meal is worthwhile. For some it will not be totally satisfying and others will find it too unsettling, but it does provide food for thought.
Paul is the narrator. From the beginning he makes
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it clear that he is not looking forward to this dinner with his brother and sister-in-law and that they have something serious to discuss. Like the meal in a posh restaurant, things progress slowly. Just as the four skirt the issue they have come together to hash out (pardon the food metaphor), Paul initially avoids explaining the specifics of their reason for meeting and, instead, mocks the restaurant and its food and staff for their pretentiousness. He also spends an inordinate amount of time disparaging his brother whom he portrays as pompous, sexist, and hypocritical and possessing the smooth charm and insincere professional smile of the high-profile politician he is. Gradually, however, the reader begins to suspect that Paul is not a reliable narrator. Flashbacks suggest that Paul is perhaps not as reasonable as he tries to appear. There may be more to the tension between the brothers than just sibling rivalry. The reader’s sympathies will tend to shift away, but none of the four proves to be a likeable character so the reader may face a dilemma in terms of finding someone towards whom to direct his/her sympathies.
Paul’s pre-occupation is the happiness of his family. At the beginning, he quotes the opening sentence of "Anna Karenina": “’Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.’” Above all else, he wants his family to continue to be happy. When footage of Michel’s crime shows up on the internet, Paul worries about the “connection between the images from the security camera and our own happy family.” When he fears that Michel’s involvement in the crime might become public knowledge, he worries, “Our life as a happy family would never be the same.” At the end, he speculates about whether “a happy family can survive a shipwreck.”
All of these references, of course, point to the novel’s major themes: What comprises a family? What constitutes a happy family? Can a family survive secrets? To what lengths should parents go to protect their children and preserve their happiness? Is nature or nurture more significant in determining the personality and behaviour of children?
I found the examination of the nature versus nature debate particularly interesting. At one Paul seems to be dismissive of both when he mentions Michel’s dislike of sweet desserts: “we would have let him have any dessert he liked, so you couldn’t blame it on his upbringing. It was hereditary. Yes, that was the only word for it. If heredity existed, if anything was hereditary, then it had to be our shared aversion to sweet desserts.” Despite his disavowal of heredity, he does worry about his son inheriting a genetic disease. Paul also refers to heredity when discussing Beau, Serge’s adopted son: “What did my brother know about heredity? All right, maybe when it came to his own children: his own flesh and blood. But what about Beau? When did you simply have to admit that something had apparently been inherited from someone else? From the biological parents in Africa? To what extent could Serge, for his part,distance himself from the actions of his adopted son?” Tellingly, Paul himself never wonders whether he bears any blame for his biological son’s misdeeds; he doesn’t ever consider that Michel might have inherited or learned his father’s tendency to abdicate responsibility for his actions.
Another fixation of Paul’s is the need for normalcy. He sometimes mocks his brother’s need to be seen as normal by the voters: “He was normal, he was human: anyone who voted for Serge Lohman was voting for a normal and human prime minister.” Yet at the same time, he focuses on the importance of a semblance of normality; he thinks the scandal of his son’s crime will eventually be forgotten but “In the meantime, I would act as normally as possible. Do normal things.” When Claire was hospitalized, Paul set himself a goal: “I wanted to keep up the appearance of normalcy.” He wanted a “normal evening” with his son and even the night before she had surgery, he didn’t visit her because he wanted everything for his son “as normal as possible.” Babette says, “’We, of all people, know that you’re doing your very best to make things seem as normal as possible for Michel. But it’s not normal. The situation isn’t normal. . . . you can’t expect anyone to run a normal household.’” The novel’s 30+ repetitions of “normal” emphasize people’s need for a façade of decency and respectability; of course, the Lohmans’ façades are threatened and we see their inner characters as they struggle to prevent them from being shattered.
The book is not flawless. The meeting in a public place to have a meeting to discuss a private family matter seems staged only to allow for comparisons between the five courses of the meal (aperitif, appetizer, main course, dessert, and digestif) and the stages of the discussion that occur. For example, the main course is long in coming just as the real reason for the dinner meeting is not explained until midway through the evening. Is Serge’s way of tackling the entrée a metaphor for his way of tackling the problem? Could Babette’s reaction to the dessert be a metaphor for her attitude to dealing with the problem at hand?
The narrator’s way of withholding information is sometimes annoying. When discussing an illness Claire had years earlier, he says, “I’m not going to say what was wrong with Claire, not here. I consider that a private matter. It’s nobody’s business.” When referring to a medical condition with which he was once diagnosed, he is likewise unspecific: The doctor “had mentioned a name. A German-sounding name. It was the surname of a neurologist who’d had this particular disorder named after him.” Can anyone tell me if amniocentesis testing can detect mental illness?
There are several references to the small portions of food and the large portions of empty plates; that’s how this novel reads. There are portions of the story that are missing, and the reader keeps reading to fill his/her plate, to fill the “two full inches of empty plate away from the actual main course.” In the end, the meal is worthwhile. For some it will not be totally satisfying and others will find it too unsettling, but it does provide food for thought.
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LibraryThing member LadyLiz
I finally finished this one. I've seen reviews comparing this to Gone Girl, and while the nature of the characters in both stories is similar, the characters in The Dinner have only redeeming character: the sense of family. But is a family of sociopaths really enough to keep a reader
Sociopaths as loveable characters in a normal, mundane setting has become popular lately. The Dexter series, both the book series and the Showtime drama, are excellent examples. Dexter wants to be normal, to some extent, and this makes him a character we want to know.
By contrast, in The Dinner we see all Paul's faults and none of his virtues from the onset. Though we don't know quite what's wrong with him, the way he reacts to certain people and situations let's us know he's not quite right in the head. That mingled with the constant beating around the bush of the real conflict (which is something that sets off Paul's rage when it happens to him in a flashback 2/3 of the way through the book), makes this book a difficult read.
I found myself disgusted with all the characters.
Paul and his son Michel obviously have psychological issues, Serge and Babette are beyond superficial, the adopted son, Beau, is portrayed as a hypocritical scumbag (while anyone who notices his true nature is referred to as a racist), and somehow we, as readers, are asked to find some way to like the characters. Even the hint of a mystery isn't really enough to make this an enjoyable read. I kept putting this book down.
It wasn't until I realized that Paul's wife, Clare, was equally as damaged that my interest was piqued. Until the moment I realized that she was plotting some way to protect Michel, I thought she was just blind and somewhat useless. That moment when she seems to be just as emotionally defunct as her husband (and he realizes that they are a happy family after all) is the first time I found myself intrigued with where this story could go. Unfortunately, it was just a little too late to redeem the story in my eyes. I became interested in the story just in time for the ending.
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interested?Sociopaths as loveable characters in a normal, mundane setting has become popular lately. The Dexter series, both the book series and the Showtime drama, are excellent examples. Dexter wants to be normal, to some extent, and this makes him a character we want to know.
By contrast, in The Dinner we see all Paul's faults and none of his virtues from the onset. Though we don't know quite what's wrong with him, the way he reacts to certain people and situations let's us know he's not quite right in the head. That mingled with the constant beating around the bush of the real conflict (which is something that sets off Paul's rage when it happens to him in a flashback 2/3 of the way through the book), makes this book a difficult read.
I found myself disgusted with all the characters.
Paul and his son Michel obviously have psychological issues, Serge and Babette are beyond superficial, the adopted son, Beau, is portrayed as a hypocritical scumbag (while anyone who notices his true nature is referred to as a racist), and somehow we, as readers, are asked to find some way to like the characters. Even the hint of a mystery isn't really enough to make this an enjoyable read. I kept putting this book down.
It wasn't until I realized that Paul's wife, Clare, was equally as damaged that my interest was piqued. Until the moment I realized that she was plotting some way to protect Michel, I thought she was just blind and somewhat useless. That moment when she seems to be just as emotionally defunct as her husband (and he realizes that they are a happy family after all) is the first time I found myself intrigued with where this story could go. Unfortunately, it was just a little too late to redeem the story in my eyes. I became interested in the story just in time for the ending.
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LibraryThing member nosajeel
The Dinner is told through a single dinner that two brothers and their wives have at a fancy restaurant in Amsterdam. The novel is divided into five parts that chronicle the different parts of the meal: aperitif, appetizer, main course, desert and digestif. The purpose of their dinner is to discuss
Initially the novel is taut, insightful, funny and ominous as it keeps its entire focus on the dinner, brilliantly conveying the perspective of narrator about his brother, a somewhat pompous fool who is expected to be elected the next Prime Minister of the Netherlands. The narrator takes his time describing the mental process that led him to order goat cheese, despite not liking it, a hilarious conversation about Woody Allen's Match Point where he turns the tables on his brother's description of it as a "masterpiece" and a hilarious set of scenes as the Manager incompetently attempts to serve the table himself.
By the Main Course, the novel has become mostly flashbacks to the events of recent weeks: a video of the brutal sport killing of a homeless woman is broadcast on national television, the perpetrators are grainy and indistinguishable to all except their own parents: the two brothers and their wives. And none of them have even acknowledged to each other that they know it's their children on the video. At this point, the bourgeois facade collapses completely and the novel slips into more violence. While this is still a page turner, it is no longer particularly funny, seems more depraved than insightful, and also more conventional.
Overall, it was a well-written page turner, but the lack of particularly interesting characters and its shift into something more conventional meant that while it ended well, it did not end nearly as well as it began.
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a heinous crime their 15 year old sons have committed, but we only really learn about the crime in the Main Course and they do not manage to discuss it until the Desert.Initially the novel is taut, insightful, funny and ominous as it keeps its entire focus on the dinner, brilliantly conveying the perspective of narrator about his brother, a somewhat pompous fool who is expected to be elected the next Prime Minister of the Netherlands. The narrator takes his time describing the mental process that led him to order goat cheese, despite not liking it, a hilarious conversation about Woody Allen's Match Point where he turns the tables on his brother's description of it as a "masterpiece" and a hilarious set of scenes as the Manager incompetently attempts to serve the table himself.
By the Main Course, the novel has become mostly flashbacks to the events of recent weeks: a video of the brutal sport killing of a homeless woman is broadcast on national television, the perpetrators are grainy and indistinguishable to all except their own parents: the two brothers and their wives. And none of them have even acknowledged to each other that they know it's their children on the video. At this point, the bourgeois facade collapses completely and the novel slips into more violence. While this is still a page turner, it is no longer particularly funny, seems more depraved than insightful, and also more conventional.
Overall, it was a well-written page turner, but the lack of particularly interesting characters and its shift into something more conventional meant that while it ended well, it did not end nearly as well as it began.
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LibraryThing member jmchshannon
The Dinner is the type of novel in which giving away even the barest of plot points would be to upset the tightly woven balance between superficial banalities and the darker undercurrents of tension and desperation that occur in the shared meal between family members. The story gains its power in
In The Dinner, Mr. Koch does not cater to an inattentive audience. Rather, he forces a reader to take an active role in the story, reading between the words unspoken and body language described through Paul’s observations. In particular, Paul’s intense protection of his son and wife, while apparent in each word stated, is even more obvious in that which is left unstated, something that is simultaneously unsettling and surprisingly admirable. His deep regard for his right to privacy, as well as that of his wife and son, is indicative of this need to safeguard his family against all ills while simultaneously skewering the prurient nature of modern society. The Dinner is as much social commentary as it is a story about a family in crisis, but Mr. Koch makes a reader work to understand the story’s duality.
While The Dinner is heavy with European references - as one would expect with a Dutch author, a story revolving around two families firmly entrenched in the Dutch infrastructure, and a setting that can only happen in Amsterdam - there is a generic quality to it that resonates with readers around the globe. The urge to protect one’s offspring crosses all boundaries regardless of social, economic, religious, political, racial, and any other classification. It is this profoundly mammalian instinct which initially grabs the reader’s attention and a main reason for the story’s worldwide popularity.
The Dinner is the best type of thinking man’s novel; quiet and unassuming, it relies not on action and adventure but the emotions and thoughts of its characters to drive forward the story. The hints of anxiety glimpsed within each character’s mannerisms as well as the uniquely human components regarding parental involvement heighten a reader’s emotional awareness. All of the elements blend together into a taut, highly nuanced literary thriller in which the thrills come from each uncovered layer of this meticulously written expose on the relationship between parents and their children and their obligations to each other.
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the slow and steady release of key details, surprising twists, and other unexpected moments, while the swell of rising emotions among the dinner guests mirrors a reader’s own sense of uneasiness about the direction of the story. The cold brusqueness of many of the characters only adds to this sense of pending doom. The entire novel culminates in scenes that are chilling in their brutality while also stunning in the depths of parental love all four parents display.In The Dinner, Mr. Koch does not cater to an inattentive audience. Rather, he forces a reader to take an active role in the story, reading between the words unspoken and body language described through Paul’s observations. In particular, Paul’s intense protection of his son and wife, while apparent in each word stated, is even more obvious in that which is left unstated, something that is simultaneously unsettling and surprisingly admirable. His deep regard for his right to privacy, as well as that of his wife and son, is indicative of this need to safeguard his family against all ills while simultaneously skewering the prurient nature of modern society. The Dinner is as much social commentary as it is a story about a family in crisis, but Mr. Koch makes a reader work to understand the story’s duality.
While The Dinner is heavy with European references - as one would expect with a Dutch author, a story revolving around two families firmly entrenched in the Dutch infrastructure, and a setting that can only happen in Amsterdam - there is a generic quality to it that resonates with readers around the globe. The urge to protect one’s offspring crosses all boundaries regardless of social, economic, religious, political, racial, and any other classification. It is this profoundly mammalian instinct which initially grabs the reader’s attention and a main reason for the story’s worldwide popularity.
The Dinner is the best type of thinking man’s novel; quiet and unassuming, it relies not on action and adventure but the emotions and thoughts of its characters to drive forward the story. The hints of anxiety glimpsed within each character’s mannerisms as well as the uniquely human components regarding parental involvement heighten a reader’s emotional awareness. All of the elements blend together into a taut, highly nuanced literary thriller in which the thrills come from each uncovered layer of this meticulously written expose on the relationship between parents and their children and their obligations to each other.
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LibraryThing member nyiper
As predicted, you DO get pulled right into this story and before you know it....eeekkkk!!! I'm not sure I could pick out the exact moment when I began to wonder---hard to say anything beyond that without giving something away about the book. I would LOVE to have a discussion with other readers
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about the ending. Really---quite a book---YES, as some others have written--unsettling to say the least!!!! But even with that said, it was written with an almost frightening believability. Show Less
LibraryThing member Bookmarque
Over the last year or so I kept hearing about this book which was newly translated into English from Dutch. The thing I kept hearing was how shocking it is and how unlikable its characters. I don’t need likable if the characters do interesting or surprising things. Same if they have a good back
While reading The Dinner, I was kept pretty off-balance, something not too many authors can do well. I enjoyed my time of ignorance, parsing through Paul’s suspect story for threads of truth or insight. There was plenty of that, although the cracked, canted kind that makes me think we need a harsher word than cynical. Mixed in with the cynicism are nuggets of madness, violence and a worldview so skewed that it’s difficult to believe at first. As if Paul will get back on the straight and narrow and keep pulling his punches. But he doesn’t and as soon as we get a look at the rest of his bosom family through his warped consciousness, the horror unfolds fully.
Some say this is a very European novel in the way it deals with the clash of cultures and class, but I drew parallels to America with no trouble. The way the Dutch are described as going to rural French towns, buying up real estate at stupid prices, wrecking the chances of the regular citizens ever buying for themselves and then treating those residents like serfs. Well that happens over here, too, just look at Montana, overrun by rich California *ssh*l*s. And poor little Vermont with its homely values stripped off its back and replaced by New Yorker snideness. Take Back Vermont, indeed.
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story to propel us to the present and tie those times together. Does every book have to have a hero? Does the hero have to be a good person who will no doubt go on to cure cancer or adopt 3rd world orphans? Well in this book, we already have one of the latter, and despite being a politician, he’s the good guy.While reading The Dinner, I was kept pretty off-balance, something not too many authors can do well. I enjoyed my time of ignorance, parsing through Paul’s suspect story for threads of truth or insight. There was plenty of that, although the cracked, canted kind that makes me think we need a harsher word than cynical. Mixed in with the cynicism are nuggets of madness, violence and a worldview so skewed that it’s difficult to believe at first. As if Paul will get back on the straight and narrow and keep pulling his punches. But he doesn’t and as soon as we get a look at the rest of his bosom family through his warped consciousness, the horror unfolds fully.
Some say this is a very European novel in the way it deals with the clash of cultures and class, but I drew parallels to America with no trouble. The way the Dutch are described as going to rural French towns, buying up real estate at stupid prices, wrecking the chances of the regular citizens ever buying for themselves and then treating those residents like serfs. Well that happens over here, too, just look at Montana, overrun by rich California *ssh*l*s. And poor little Vermont with its homely values stripped off its back and replaced by New Yorker snideness. Take Back Vermont, indeed.
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LibraryThing member bookappeal
Two couples meet in a posh restaurant for dinner. Paul and his wife Claire are not looking forward to spending time with Paul's brother, Serge, a candidate for prime minister, and his wife Babette. Told from Paul's perspective, a picture of Serge as a pompous ass emerges, even before he enters the
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room. But as Paul reveals more of his own background and the reason for the dinner - something awful their sons have done - his perspective becomes questionable and the reader discovers all is not as it seems. Herman Koch draws the reader along with luscious descriptions of the restaurant, food, and reactions of the dinner guests (all seen through Paul's eyes), while simultaneously peppering the tale with disturbing clues about what is really happening underneath the polite surface. He does it so well that the resolution is almost anti-climactic. The entertainment lies in the uncomfortable progression from aperitif to digestif. Show Less
LibraryThing member Edward.Lorn
THE DINNER Review I own the trade paperback version of THE DINNER. Paid seventeen bucks and some change for it at my local BAM. I'd heard mixed reviews, but of the bad reviews I read, no one was able to give me a good enough reason not to buy Herman Koch's sixth novel. A friend of mine, Mike Crane
I normally start off my reviews with nitpicks or negative comments about the writing of a book, but I honestly could not find one thing about this novel to criticize. I sometimes find translated novels hard to read (THE GIRL IN THE DRAGON TATTOO, LET THE RIGHT ONE IN, SYNDROME E), but that wasn't the case here. The prose flowed smoothly, effortlessly, and never felt stilted or off, giving me the sense that something had been lost in the conversion from the native tongue into English. In fact, this is the first translated novel I've read that feels as if the original novel had been written in English. My hat goes off to the translator. Sam Garrett has skills.
The reasoning behind my rating of four stars instead of five is purely personal taste. I was impressed by how Koch managed to keep me entertained for 100 pages wherein nothing much happens, aside from casual conversation over wine tasting and appetizers. In fact, the book doesn't really give away a single plot point until around page 150 or so. But, even then, the subject matter wasn't entirely my cup of tea. I wasn't disturbed or unsettled by the "atrocities" of which many reviewers spoke of, mainly because I remember news reports about this very thing happening either at home or abroad, a little less than a decade back. Also, I'm far too desensitized by graphic content for something as simple as the events of this book to turn my stomach. It was simply kinda "meh" to me, and I found myself saying, "Is that it? That's the "nasty" reviewers were talking about?" This is not a negative thing about the book, but, oddly enough, what I feel is a shocking epiphany concerning my own perception of what is horrific and what is not. The fact that I do not find what happens to the homeless woman in this novel to be overly disturbing means I've lost some humanity while traveling along this road of life. I rather mourn that loss.
While I didn't find any of the twists all that explosive, I did not expect the ending. That is to say, I didn't expect the tone of the ending. To explain further would be to spoilerize this review, and I don't think that's necessary here. In my opinion, Koch phones in the reveal far too early, and I had the conclusion pinned down around page 230 out of a 290 page book (the last 14 pages of this 304-page novel are interviews, discussion topics for book clubs, and an essay by the author on how he writes). This didn't detract from my enjoyment of the book, either, it simply wasn't my favorite flavor of Skittles.
In summation: This is a well-written, terrifically-translated piece of fiction that is both easy to read and thought provoking. I didn't find it disturbing, whatsoever, but I'm also a jaded f*ck who needs to take a hard look at himself to find out why the viscous murder of an innocent didn't strike a chord with him. Highly recommended for fans of dark fiction who like their plots loosely braided, like cornrows on white folk.
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(Author of GIGGLES), read THE DINNER and loved it. Mike and I have had differing opinions on several novels in the past, but I usually, at the very least, can finish books he recommends. THE DINNER was one of those books were I mostly agree with Mike. It was worth the price of admission, even though I read the entire book in two sittings, and I do not regret adding the physical copy to my bookshelves. I normally start off my reviews with nitpicks or negative comments about the writing of a book, but I honestly could not find one thing about this novel to criticize. I sometimes find translated novels hard to read (THE GIRL IN THE DRAGON TATTOO, LET THE RIGHT ONE IN, SYNDROME E), but that wasn't the case here. The prose flowed smoothly, effortlessly, and never felt stilted or off, giving me the sense that something had been lost in the conversion from the native tongue into English. In fact, this is the first translated novel I've read that feels as if the original novel had been written in English. My hat goes off to the translator. Sam Garrett has skills.
The reasoning behind my rating of four stars instead of five is purely personal taste. I was impressed by how Koch managed to keep me entertained for 100 pages wherein nothing much happens, aside from casual conversation over wine tasting and appetizers. In fact, the book doesn't really give away a single plot point until around page 150 or so. But, even then, the subject matter wasn't entirely my cup of tea. I wasn't disturbed or unsettled by the "atrocities" of which many reviewers spoke of, mainly because I remember news reports about this very thing happening either at home or abroad, a little less than a decade back. Also, I'm far too desensitized by graphic content for something as simple as the events of this book to turn my stomach. It was simply kinda "meh" to me, and I found myself saying, "Is that it? That's the "nasty" reviewers were talking about?" This is not a negative thing about the book, but, oddly enough, what I feel is a shocking epiphany concerning my own perception of what is horrific and what is not. The fact that I do not find what happens to the homeless woman in this novel to be overly disturbing means I've lost some humanity while traveling along this road of life. I rather mourn that loss.
While I didn't find any of the twists all that explosive, I did not expect the ending. That is to say, I didn't expect the tone of the ending. To explain further would be to spoilerize this review, and I don't think that's necessary here. In my opinion, Koch phones in the reveal far too early, and I had the conclusion pinned down around page 230 out of a 290 page book (the last 14 pages of this 304-page novel are interviews, discussion topics for book clubs, and an essay by the author on how he writes). This didn't detract from my enjoyment of the book, either, it simply wasn't my favorite flavor of Skittles.
In summation: This is a well-written, terrifically-translated piece of fiction that is both easy to read and thought provoking. I didn't find it disturbing, whatsoever, but I'm also a jaded f*ck who needs to take a hard look at himself to find out why the viscous murder of an innocent didn't strike a chord with him. Highly recommended for fans of dark fiction who like their plots loosely braided, like cornrows on white folk.
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LibraryThing member wouterzzzzz
Intriguing book about the relation between a father, mother and their son. What in the beginning looks like a normal family ends up being something quite messed up, although the family members do everything for each other. For Dutch readers it'll contain loads of typical situations that will
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certainly make you smile. Show Less
LibraryThing member jasonlf
The Dinner is told through a single dinner that two brothers and their wives have at a fancy restaurant in Amsterdam. The novel is divided into five parts that chronicle the different parts of the meal: aperitif, appetizer, main course, desert and digestif. The purpose of their dinner is to discuss
Initially the novel is taut, insightful, funny and ominous as it keeps its entire focus on the dinner, brilliantly conveying the perspective of narrator about his brother, a somewhat pompous fool who is expected to be elected the next Prime Minister of the Netherlands. The narrator takes his time describing the mental process that led him to order goat cheese, despite not liking it, a hilarious conversation about Woody Allen's Match Point where he turns the tables on his brother's description of it as a "masterpiece" and a hilarious set of scenes as the Manager incompetently attempts to serve the table himself.
By the Main Course, the novel has become mostly flashbacks to the events of recent weeks: a video of the brutal sport killing of a homeless woman is broadcast on national television, the perpetrators are grainy and indistinguishable to all except their own parents: the two brothers and their wives. And none of them have even acknowledged to each other that they know it's their children on the video. At this point, the bourgeois facade collapses completely and the novel slips into more violence. While this is still a page turner, it is no longer particularly funny, seems more depraved than insightful, and also more conventional.
Overall, it was a well-written page turner, but the lack of particularly interesting characters and its shift into something more conventional meant that while it ended well, it did not end nearly as well as it began.
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a heinous crime their 15 year old sons have committed, but we only really learn about the crime in the Main Course and they do not manage to discuss it until the Desert.Initially the novel is taut, insightful, funny and ominous as it keeps its entire focus on the dinner, brilliantly conveying the perspective of narrator about his brother, a somewhat pompous fool who is expected to be elected the next Prime Minister of the Netherlands. The narrator takes his time describing the mental process that led him to order goat cheese, despite not liking it, a hilarious conversation about Woody Allen's Match Point where he turns the tables on his brother's description of it as a "masterpiece" and a hilarious set of scenes as the Manager incompetently attempts to serve the table himself.
By the Main Course, the novel has become mostly flashbacks to the events of recent weeks: a video of the brutal sport killing of a homeless woman is broadcast on national television, the perpetrators are grainy and indistinguishable to all except their own parents: the two brothers and their wives. And none of them have even acknowledged to each other that they know it's their children on the video. At this point, the bourgeois facade collapses completely and the novel slips into more violence. While this is still a page turner, it is no longer particularly funny, seems more depraved than insightful, and also more conventional.
Overall, it was a well-written page turner, but the lack of particularly interesting characters and its shift into something more conventional meant that while it ended well, it did not end nearly as well as it began.
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LibraryThing member Clara53
Even with all the brilliant observations on human behavior, this book still left a bad taste in my mouth. Too cynic, bitter and downright depressing, with twisted notions of right and wrong on behalf of the protagonist - which is sort of explained away by his psychiatric ailment (but what about the
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others? they are "normal" in the strict sense of the word and yet flawed as well...). At the start, you don't really know what to expect of this dinner between two brothers and their wives, and I almost gave up, but then the story unravels with sobering speed, with all unpredictably revealing flashbacks, and you cannot practically put the book down. There is a fascination of sorts, but an unpleasant one - about how it will really end?!... The whole thing is enveloped with cynicism - a disappointment, in a sense. Show Less
Awards
Dublin Literary Award (Longlist — 2014)
The Morning News Tournament of Books (Short List — 2014)
British Book Award (Shortlist — 2012)
Maine Readers' Choice Award (Longlist — 2014)
Andrew Carnegie Medals for Excellence in Fiction and Nonfiction (Longlist — Fiction — 2014)
PEN Translation Prize (Longlist — 2014)
Kirkus Reviews Best Book of the Year (General Fiction — 2013)
Notable Books List (Fiction — 2014)
Call number
FIC F Koc