If you walk into a bookstore in Amsterdam and ask for the "Great Dutch Novel," nobody hesitates. They point to a brick of a book with a celestial cover. The Discovery of Heaven by Harry Mulisch isn't just a book; it’s a national monument. Published in 1992 as De ontdekking van de hemel, it’s a sprawling, messy, brilliant, and deeply weird epic that tries to explain literally everything—faith, DNA, the Holocaust, jazz, and why God might be getting bored with us.
It’s huge. It’s intimidating. Honestly, it’s a lot to carry in a backpack. But there is a reason it was voted the best Dutch-language book of all time by readers in the Netherlands. Mulisch didn't just write a story; he built a universe.
What is The Discovery of Heaven Actually About?
At its simplest, it’s a "buddy movie" between two men, Max Delius and Onno Quist. They meet on a dark road in 1967, and their chemistry is instant. Max is a womanizing astronomer with a dark family history—his father was a Nazi collaborator and his mother was Jewish. Onno is a chaotic, brilliant linguist from a family of high-ranking politicians. They are opposites, but they fit perfectly.
But here’s the twist.
The entire story is framed by a conversation between two angels. Yeah, angels. They are chatting in a sort of "celestial bureaucracy," looking down at Earth. It turns out that God (the "Chief") has decided to break off His contract with humanity. We’ve become too technological, too cold, and we’ve "cracked the code" of life through biotechnology and physics. To end the deal, the angels need to retrieve the original Tablets of the Law—the Ten Commandments.
To do this, they have to manipulate human history for decades just to ensure a specific child is born. That child is Quinten, the son of the woman both Max and Onno loved.
The Architecture of the Plot
Mulisch was obsessed with symmetry. He famously said he was the Second World War, meaning his identity was forged by the conflict's contradictions. This reflects in the book’s structure. You have the heavy weight of the past—the Holocaust and the ruins of Europe—clashing with the futuristic, cold ambition of the late 20th century.
The middle of the book feels like a classic European intellectual novel. There are long scenes of Max and Onno drinking, debating, and traveling. You get to know them so well that when the "supernatural" elements finally kick in, you're already too invested to quit. Mulisch weaves in real historical events, from the Provo riots in Amsterdam to the Cuban revolution, making the cosmic plot feel grounded in real, gritty dirt.
Why Mulisch Still Matters in 2026
Harry Mulisch died in 2010, but his work feels more relevant now than when he was alive. We are living in the world he predicted—a world where technology has outpaced our morality. In the book, the "Heavenly" powers are terrified of human progress. They see our ability to manipulate DNA as a direct threat to the divine order.
Think about it. In a year like 2026, where AI and gene editing are basically daily news, the idea that "Heaven" wants its contract back doesn't seem that far-fetched. Mulisch wasn't just writing a fantasy; he was writing a warning about what happens when we lose our "soul" to our tools.
The Problem with the Film Adaptation
You might have seen the 2001 movie starring Stephen Fry. It’s fine. It really is. Fry is great as Onno. But it’s almost impossible to cram 900 pages of dense philosophical musing into a two-hour film. The movie focuses on the plot—the quest for the tablets—but it loses the "brain" of the book.
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The book is where the magic happens. It's in the way Mulisch describes the feeling of an old library or the specific silence of a Dutch polder. You can't film a conversation about the relationship between the musical scale and the structure of the universe, but you can read it, and it will blow your mind.
Reading The Discovery of Heaven: A Survival Guide
Don't try to "speed read" this. You'll fail. It’s a slow-burn experience. Here is how you actually get through it without feeling like you're doing homework:
- Accept the Arrogance: Harry Mulisch was known for being, well, a bit full of himself. He knew he was brilliant, and his characters know it too. Just lean into it. Enjoy the high-level banter between Max and Onno.
- The First 100 Pages are a Test: The opening involves the angels talking in a very abstract way. It can be confusing. Stick with it. Once Max and Onno meet, the engine of the story starts humming.
- Look Up the Art: The book references real art and architecture, especially the work of Piranesi. Having a tab open to look at these engravings makes the descriptions of the "Palace of the Mind" much more vivid.
- It's a Mystery, Sort of: At its heart, it’s a heist. The final third of the book moves much faster than the beginning as the characters travel to Italy and eventually Jerusalem.
Common Misconceptions
People often think this is a "religious" book because of the title. It’s not. Not in the traditional sense. Mulisch was an atheist with a deep fascination for the mechanics of religion. He treats God like a disgruntled CEO and the angels like middle managers trying to fix a PR disaster. It’s more of a philosophical sci-fi than a devotional text.
Another myth is that you need a PhD in European history to understand it. You don't. While the characters talk about big ideas, the core of the story is about friendship and the way our parents' secrets haunt us. If you've ever felt like your life was being steered by forces you couldn't see, you'll get it.
The Legacy of a Masterpiece
The Discovery of Heaven stands alongside books like The Name of the Rose or Foucault's Pendulum. It’s part of that rare genre: the intellectual thriller. It challenges the reader to keep up. It assumes you are smart.
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In the Netherlands, Mulisch is part of the "Great Three" (De Grote Drie) alongside Willem Frederik Hermans and Gerard Reve. But Mulisch was the one who went global. He was regularly mentioned as a Nobel Prize candidate, and while he never won, this novel is his strongest argument for why he should have.
The ending is... polarizing. I won't spoil it. Some people find it breathtakingly poetic; others think it's a bit of a "deus ex machina" (literally). But that’s the point of great literature. It’s supposed to give you something to argue about at 2:00 AM.
How to experience this book for yourself:
If you are ready to dive into the world of Harry Mulisch, your first step is to find the right translation. The English version by John Brownjohn is widely considered the gold standard. He manages to capture the specific "dryness" of Dutch humor while keeping the prose elegant and readable.
Check your local used bookstore first. There is something satisfying about finding an old, slightly battered paperback of a story this epic. Once you have it, clear a weekend. This isn't a "commuter read." It's an immersion. Start on a Friday night, and by Sunday, you’ll be looking at the stars—and your own history—in a completely different way. If you want to dive deeper into Dutch literature after finishing, look for Mulisch's other masterpiece, The Assault, which deals with the same themes of guilt and history but in a much tighter, more focused narrative.