From the very first chapter—its description of the chaotic kitchen, the macho chefs who style themselves as artists, the sleek dim-lit glamor of the dining room—I was hooked by this novel. Gilmartin's Service is a masterfully constructed MeToo story: told from three different perspectives, it follows Daniel, the head chef of a Michelin-star restaurant in Dublin, who has been accused of rape and is about to be put on trial. First, we see Daniel through the eyes of Hannah, a former employee who is years later slowly recalling the painful, repressed memories of her brief time there; then, we see Daniel's side, his clueless protestations of innocence and his blinkered ignorance of his own chauvinism; and, finally, we hear his wife, Julie, and her shellshocked uncertainty, her resentment, her suspicion, her reluctant willingness to believe him but also never to trust him.
What makes this novel so engrossing is how Daniel truly believes his own innocence. In many ways, Daniel is a sympathetic figure: the child of a single-parent home who started working in a pub at age 16 and pushed himself tirelessly to become a renowned chef; he is a flawed, demanding and volatile boss but also a loving father, a man who worked till midnight and still took care of his kids. But, as we follow his story and hear his internal monologue, we also see his cruelty, his self-obsession and his obliviousness. He is constantly evaluating women's appearances, sneering at women's wrinkles, wondering what young women will grow up into, hiring the most attractive women as his servers; he is so convinced of his own handsome appeal and culinary genius that he cannot imagine any woman not desiring him; in perhaps his most deranged moment of egotistical hubris, lying next to his wife in bed, he thinks to himself, "God made woman to comfort man". In his kitchen, he is the chef and the women are the servers, and this dynamic pervades his whole view of the world. He thinks he loves women but what he really loves is their subservience. He fires one of his employees for sexual assault but he cannot see how manipulative and coercive his own actions are. In his view, he promoted women, started their careers, and they had all come to him for sex. The whole MeToo movement, for him, is a tabloid fad.
This is a really successful novel that manages both to show the victims' side and also to probe the mental blindspots and delusions of the accused. It reminded me a lot of the film Tár, a story similarly of a monomaniacal workaholic who had catapulted herself from her humble origins on Staten Island to become the eminent conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic, but whose passion and drive had transformed her into monstrous sociopath. I strongly recommend this novel.