Reach

The Works of Melissa Danko

Escaping the Depths of Domesticity

In the novel, The Lovely Bones, Alice Sebold introduces Abigail Salmon, a mother of three who “had never had that dream” to be a mother (266).  Abigail struggles throughout the novel with the loss of her true self to the roles she must play.  As the domestic demands become too much to handle with the death of her oldest child, Susie, Abigail falls back into her true self and falls out of the roles that she had been expected to play for years.  While it initially seems that the death of Susie causes her resentment of family and the roles that come with it, the passage surrounding Abigail’s first encounter with Len proves otherwise.  It becomes apparent that Abigail’s withdrawal from her family was gradual, and that Susie’s death was merely a catalyst for Abigail’s need to break out of her roles.

Sebold begins this passage with the idea that Abigail had once been able to balance her true self and her roles as a mother and wife.  By first establishing Abigail’s history, readers are able to see Abigail’s struggle with her roles as a deep-rooted issue.  Susie tells that “my mother’s escape, her half-measure return to the outside world, had been smashed when I was ten and Lindsey nine” (151).   The phrase “half-measure return” is a reference to the Greek goddess, Persephone.  Like Persephone, who was trapped in the underworld and unable to escape, Abigail was trapped in a world of motherhood.  Both were able to escape their underworlds for periods at a time, and it is in these ways that the two women can be seen as parallel.  Abigail frequently told her children stories of Persephone, and Susie says that the story-telling was “about getting lost.  She got lost in her story” (151).  As Abigail got lost in her stories, she was able to escape her world of motherhood and live out her love of mythology.  It seems only natural that Abigail would express interest in Persephone, as she, too, held hopes of escaping her entrapment.

The words “escape” and “smashed” hold an urgent connotation, showing how badly Abigail needed to be able to have time for herself, apart from her children.  The words “half–measure return,” in addition to referencing Persephone, show that Abigail was never able to fully escape her role as a mother; instead, she managed brief escapes before departing the outside world to reenter her world of being a mother.  Sebold gives a glimpse of Abigail’s escapes by including her Thursday afternoons with Jack, where Susie says, “By tacking on extra hours here and there and skipping lunches, my father had managed to come home early from work every Thursday when we were little.  But whereas the weekends were family time, they called that day ‘Mommy and Daddy time’” (148).  This demonstrates that in her earlier family days, Abigail was able to retain elements of herself while still being a mother to her children.  Singing to her daughters, telling them about Persephone, and getting them ready for a nap while anticipating an afternoon with her husband was a fine balance that Abigail controlled well.  However, the introduction—and surprise—of her third child illuminates the point where the line between Abigail’s roles and herself began to blur.

Susie explains that Abigail had “missed her period and had taken the fateful car trip to the doctor” (151).  By using the word “fateful,” Sebold offers an ominous feeling; the arrival of her baby was more than just an unwelcomed event and for Abigail, it signaled the end of something.  In a sense it was the end of Abigail, as she lost herself with the birth of her third child.  She lost her ability to escape her roles, which is the time she had to be herself.  Susie continues to tell of how “[u]nderneath her smile and exclamations to my sister and me were fissures that led somewhere deep inside her” (151).  The fissures that Susie speaks of led into Abigail, whose true self became buried underneath all of her role-playing.  It is important to notice that Sebold chooses the word “fissures” because it shows that Abigail’s change was gradual and began with small cracks that grew over time.  Similar to the way fissures change the Earth’s crust very slowly, the fissures in Abigail took a long time to produce anything significant.  The connection of the word “fissures” to the Earth also reveals another reference to Persephone.  Just as Persephone was trapped deep inside the Earth, Abigail was trapped deep inside herself.  Cracks began forming before Buckley was even born, and they only grew with time.

Although Abigail had been able to balance her different roles with two children, it was upon the realization she’d be having a third child that she “sealed the more mysterious mother off” (152).  The more mysterious mother that Susie speaks of is the one who was able to incorporate her own self into her roles, instead of having to ultimately choose one or the other.  It is the mother who told her children about Zeus and Persephone (149) and who would say that Helen of Troy was “[a] feisty woman who screwed things up” (150).  This Abigail became increasingly more and more closed off when Buckley was on his way, and she continued to let her roles overtake her from that point forward.  Looking back, Susie says, “I see the shifting, how the stacks of books on my parents’ bedside table changed from catalogs for local colleges, encyclopedias of mythology, novels by James, Eliot, and Dickens, to the works of Dr. Spock.  Then came gardening books and cookbooks….” (152).  Catalogs, encyclopedias, and novels represent adult interests, interests of people who have time for themselves.  The switch to domestic reading shows a drastic lifestyle change for Abigail.   The change itself—a replacement of books on a night stand—is subtle, and it represents the subtle changes in Abigail herself.  By replacing mythology, her passion, with books any good housewife would read, Abigail only proved that she was falling deeper into her role and pushing the true Abigail deeper inside.  By the arrival of their third child, Abigail and Jack should not have needed Dr. Spock to tell them how to raise children, yet it made its way into their bedroom because it was the sign of a good parent.

Susie tells of how “for years behind that wall, that needy part of her [Abigail] had grown, not shrunk, and in Len, the greed to get out, to smash, destroy, rescind, overtook her” (152).  Abigail’s need is the need for independence, the need to be herself and to be out of her roles.  Susie mentions earlier, “My mother was, in her need, irresistible.  As a child, I had seen her effect on men” (148).  It is this need that Len sees and is attracted to, and it is the comfort of Len that Abigail yearns for as a way to escape her roles.  The fact that Abigail’s need to be free grew over the years shows why, finally, she is so desperate to get out.  For so long she had been “owner of the happy dog, wife to the loving man, and mother….Homemaker.  Gardener.  Sunny neighbor” (43).  These roles left no room for Abigail to be Abigail, which in turn led to her “greed to get out.”  It is these roles that are left as “the pieces” when Abigail’s body leads her towards Len (152).

Abigail commits her first act of adultery in the hospital where her husband is undergoing surgery, and with Len, she truly breaks out of her wife role.  Had she been playing “wife to the loving man,” Abigail would have been at Jack’s side.  As Len touches her, “the gauzy gown [is] barely a veil between them” (152).  Sebold chooses these words delicately, as “gauzy gown” and “veil” evoke images of a wedding dress.  The idea of marriage inserted into the scene of Abigail’s unfaithfulness emphasizes her ultimate escape from the wife role.  When Len tells her to think of what she’s doing, Abigail responds that she is “tired of thinking” (152).  Abigail is not just tired of thinking about Susie’s death, she is tired of having to stay in character and tired of maintaining her role-playing.  It is in her role as a mother and wife that she must confront her daughter’s death.  When she refuses these roles, she is no longer the grieving mother expected to comfort her two living children and husband.

As Len stands before the open, true Abigail, her hair floats around her head from the fan nearby.  To describe this, Sebold uses the word “aureole” (152).  The idea of Abigail having an angelic appearance is contradictory to her actions, yet it is also somewhat fitting as Abigail is emerging in her purest form.  As she breaks out of her roles and allows a view of her intimately honest self, Len sees her as radiant.  “Aureole” also refers to the sun during a solar eclipse, and Len blinks at her in the way people blink when looking at the sun.  Abigail shines without her typical mask of housewife or mother or gardener.  Sebold references sunshine in other parts of the novel, and it during these references that Abigail is in her happiest, truest form.  Susie tells that when Jack used to bring Abigail marigolds, “her face would light up yellowy in delight” (153).  This “yellowy delight” shows how truly happy Abigail was, and it is representative of pure bliss and pure Abigail as herself.  A scene earlier in the novel reveals Abigail eating macaroons greedily in hiding, and the treats are described as “suns bursting open in her mouth” (62).  She ate greedily in hiding so as to maintain her perfect mother image, but it was Abigail experiencing the satisfaction of the macaroons, not mother or wife.  The phrase “suns bursting open” shows how incredibly delicious and satisfying the macaroons were and the reference to sunshine illuminates the true Abigail.  At the end of the novel, upon being reunited with her family after her long hiatus, Abigail carries daffodils into the house, “her face lit by the yellowy light of the daffodils” (316).  This reference, yet again, to yellow and light shows readers that Abigail is being true to herself.  These little glimpses of sunshine are flashes of the true Abigail surfacing, escaping from the dark entrapment deep under her roles.

As the true Abigail surfaces for Len on the hospital balcony, Susie explains, “My mother was moving physically through time to flee from me” (152).  Susie realizes that Abigail is using physical to escape emotional.  By connecting with Len on a physical level, she is able to disconnect from her life and all the pain that has encompassed it.  As Abigail distracts herself from reality, Susie also realizes that she “could not hold her back” (152).  Abigail is not allowing anything, even thoughts of Susie, to stop her from moving towards Len.  Abigail needs this physical connection so badly—this temporary escape—that she is willing to mentally abandon her family for the time being.  As Abigail and Len embrace, “[t]he whole life lost [tumbles] out in an arc on that roof, clogging up her being.  She needed Len to drive the dead daughter out” (152).  The “life lost” refers not only to Susie’s death, but also to Abigail’s loss of her true self.  Abigail is able to find herself with Len, and it is the real her—regaining the life she had lost—that overtakes her, “clogging up her being.”  As Abigail sheds her roles on that balcony, she regains the Abigail that had been forced deep inside.  With Len, Abigail does not have to be a grieving mother.  She does not have to be a woman whose daughter died and whose husband is in the hospital.  While Len and Abigail kiss, Susie watches her “mother [hold] on to him as if on the other side of his kiss there could be a new life” (152).  The way that Abigail holds Len “as if” there is the possibility for a new life shows that she is hopeful of this.  However, the “new life” might not be “new” at all, but rather a reversion to the Abigail that existed before expectations and roles took over.  It later becomes apparent that the mentioning of a “new life” foreshadows Abigail’s solo adventure to California, where she is finally able to properly grieve Susie’s death without the roles weighing her down.

As Abigail frees herself of the weights of expectation, Sebold creates an important pattern in this passage—repetition of three powerful words.  Susie describes Abigail and Len’s first embrace as “hurried, fumbled, passionate” (152).  The words are all very vivid, evoking a flustered yet true emotion.  When Len blinks at Abigail, Sebold writes, “Marvelous, dangerous, wild” (152).  This short sentence demonstrates freedom and an escape from any type of domestic role, and again, something true and real.  As Abigail and Len begin their embrace, readers see another fragment: “Her rage, her loss, her despair” (152).  These words suggest powerful, raw emotion, as they all connote intense pain.  Finally, in looking back on her mother and father’s relationship, Susie says, “They had been deeply, separately, wholly in love….” (153).  This group of three words hold a meaning of true, passionate love; Abigail and Jack were absolutely wrapped up in each other.  All of these phrases, with their repetition of three strong words, highlight emotion that Abigail struggled to feel while trapped in her roles.  Sebold’s use of repetition makes these phrases stand out to the reader, and it gives them emphasis.  The emphasis is on Abigail in her states of feeling emotion, which is contrary to the typical housewife Abigail who played her role in an automatic way.  While the first three examples occur during Abigail’s shedding of her roles, the last example represents earlier times, when Abigail was herself and had no roles to shed.  The repetition happens at times when Abigail is able to truly feel the emotions that she could not experience while playing any kind of role.

The passage closes with Susie remembering her time on Earth, when her family was cohesive and her mother was happy.  Susie remembers that her mother “used to whistle in the mornings as she made her tea and how [her] father, rushing home on Thursdays, would bring her marigolds and her face would light up in yellowy delight” (153).  This cheerfulness, existent at one point, dissipated into unhappiness.  The unhappiness of being stuck primarily in her mother role became too much for Abigail to bear once Susie’s death was piled on top.  Even before Susie’s death, though, Abigail’s mother role clouded her love for Jack. Susie tells that “apart from her children my mother could reclaim this love, but with them she began to drift” (153).  Abigail drifts from Jack because she gets stuck playing the perfect mother and homemaker, despite the fact that Jack fell in love with her for who she was as Abigail.  Susie tells later in the novel that Abigail realizes “being a mother was a calling” and that she “had never had that dream” (266).  Without the desire of motherhood, it makes sense that Abigail began to resent her motherly role.  However, Abigail resents it most after Susie’s death, because having to be a mother only reminds her that she has lost a child.  Although her internal breaking down was a gradual process, it was sped up by Susie’s death.  Soon after Susie’s death, Buckley calls for Abigail who is not answering him, and as he calls out “‘Mommmmm-maaa!’” Susie says of her mother, “She despised the word” (62).  The word “despised” holds a strong feeling of hate, and it is this hate that propels Abigail to shed her roles.  Abigail hates being called a mother because she is only reminded of the child she lost.  In order to deal with Susie’s death, Abigail needs to grieve as Abigail and not as the mother she never wanted to be.

Finally, the reader is left with Susie’s statement, “It was my father who grew toward us as the years went by; it was my mother who grew away” (153).  There is an important idea here, and it is that Abigail and Jack grew in opposite directions.  While Abigail needed her individuality, Jack embraced fatherhood, and it became part of him.  Jack adopted his father role wholeheartedly and gained a closeness with his children, leaving Abigail somewhat outside the family.  This explains why Abigail was in such great need of Len.  Abigail turned to Len as her primarily male counterpart for a comfort and intimacy that she was not getting from her husband.  Also important is the word “grew,” which suggests more than just a mere separation and detachment; it suggests a kind of individual progress or forward development.  This is interesting word choice by Sebold, and it seems to say that Abigail’s retreat back into herself was a positive thing.

Although it wasn’t until Susie’s death that Abigail began to find herself again, she was able to with the help of Len.  Abigail resented her final thrust into motherhood with the surprise of her third child, and for years she kept the true Abigail trapped inside her.  Playing the roles of mother, wife, and overall homemaker never allowed Abigail to feel true emotion, which kept her closed off from her family.  Having to be the mother that she had never really hoped to be only made it more painful to grieve Susie’s death, and it was at this point that Abigail finally needed to escape.  For years she had wandered between Abigail and mother until finally, with Susie’s death, she began to release the captive Abigail from deep inside herself.

 

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