56 pages • 1 hour read
Douglas Spaulding, the story’s protagonist, is 12. He’s at the tipping point between childhood and adolescence; his thoughts are in transition, and his feelings are vulnerable to the intensity of new experiences. Early in the story, Douglas has an epiphany and realizes that he is alive, really alive, and he means to enjoy every detail of life’s adventures. Some of them are wondrous, while others are painful, awkward, or sad. With each new experience, Douglas talks over the implications with his brother, Tom, and together, the two boys come to many varied conclusions about the nature of life; some of them are wise, while others are hopelessly naive. As he experiences several significant losses, Douglas struggles to reconcile these experiences, and his growing sadness results in a literal fever fueled by disillusionment and self-doubt: a physical and spiritual illness that almost kills him. When he recovers, he finds himself older, wiser, and more in love with his world.
Douglas gets his first name from the author’s middle name; his last name, Spaulding, is derived from the middle name of Bradbury’s own father. Douglas’s summer turns into a search for a larger meaning among the good and bad things of life, and the summer of 1928 thus becomes his quest to appreciate life’s wonders without succumbing to the heartbreak of its losses.
Douglas’s younger brother, Tom, is an energetic 10-year-old boy who loves to count things. For example, he remembers every movie he’s seen, has counted 200 pears eaten, and knows how many strawberries he picks with his brother and father. Tom depends on his family, and especially on the quiet, stable strength of his mother to find reassurance in a world in which a murderer can freely roam the streets of his town. When his mother shivers with fear over Douglas’s brief disappearance one evening, Tom’s assumptions of safety and invulnerability crumble, and he must confront the reality that no one, not even his mother, can protect him from everything. As a supporting character, Tom is someone Douglas can talk to; their interactions help bring out Douglas’s thoughts and feelings as he struggles with life’s many joys and regrets.
Ancient and thin, Colonel Freeleigh sits alone at home, remembering his adventurous past. Charlie, Douglas, and John visit and ask him to describe the high points of his life. At this, the colonel perks up and regales them with thrilling tales of the Civil War, or of watching tens of thousands of bison pass by him in a giant, thunderous wave, or of the time when he saw a famous magician drop dead on stage. Freeleigh’s name is also designed to convey a sense of wild adventure, for its pronunciation mirrors that of the world “freely,” and he likewise wanders at liberty through his memories of a glorious past while the boys listen, enraptured. They call him the “Time Machine,” for his memories transport them to thrilling days of yore. Freeleigh, along with Helen Loomis and Great-Grandma, is one of several avatars that Bradbury uses to impart the admonition that life is best lived well and long, and then set aside gracefully.
At age 95, Helen meets young Bill Forrester, a local journalist, and they strike up an unusual romance. She regales him with stories of her past, and he imagines them sharing those adventures together as a couple. Helen knows exactly when she’ll die, and a few days before this happens, she tells Bill that she hopes they will meet again in a future life, when they’re both the same age and can enjoy a full romance. One of three elderly people in the book who face their own deaths with equanimity, Helen’s story most fully encapsulates the story’s meditation on how to live fully and end it with a smile.
As the grand matriarch of the Spaulding family, Great-Grandma is a constant companion to her daughter as they both fulfill the many rituals of the Spaulding household throughout the summer. In the minds of the children, she, like all the other adults, will simply be around forever. One, day, however, she finishes her work and decides she’s lived long enough, so she goes upstairs to die. Her love of life in all its wonders gets passed down through the generations to Douglas, who, only that summer, has discovered the miracle of his own aliveness but must sniff back tears as the woman who helped inspire him fades away. Great-Grandma symbolizes a life well lived; she embodies the author’s philosophy on appreciating every day, and when one’s life is finished, returning to the vastness with a happy heart.
John Huff is a minor character who nonetheless has a profound effect on Douglas. A good friend, John accompanies Douglas and Charlie on the boys’ many summer adventures around town. He’s the best athlete and one of the nicest kids in town, but it all ends suddenly when he announces that his family must move to Wisconsin, where his father has a new job. His departure upsets Douglas, who hates to see John leave and does not know how to deal with the sudden loss of his friend.
Author Bradbury has stated that John Huff was the name of a real friend in Arizona, where Bradbury’s family lived briefly. (Bradbury’s friend also moved away suddenly, but the two enjoyed a happy reunion 42 years later.) John’s departure adds to the book’s theme on The Unstoppable Passage of Time, and his fear that he’ll forget the best details of his childhood emphasizes the theme of Memory as an Act of Preservation. John and Douglas’s struggle to say goodbye to each other also represents the difficulty of leaving childhood behind and entering the challenges of adolescence.
Honeysuckle Ladies Lodge president Clara Goodwater buys magic trinkets for her cousin Raoul, who’s 10, but Elmira Brown sees these items as evidence that Clara is a witch who uses spells every year to foil Elmira’s attempts to win the presidency of the Lodge. When things go too far and Elmira has a serious accident, Clara reassures her, promising to cease hexing Elmira and instead allow her to be elected the Lodge president.
While the incident gives a brief nod to the history of the “witch hunts” and paranoia that once plagued small-town America in colonial days, this section of the novel primarily serves to deliver a moment of absurdity and light-hearted comic relief amidst much more serious chapters that focus on the darker implications of life, death, and the inevitability of change. Ultimately, whether or not Clara is an authentic witch remains a tantalizing, unsolved mystery, but her name suggests that she’s essentially a good person who sees things more clearly than most.
Married to mail carrier Sam Brown, Elmira, age 35, is accident-prone and somewhat unpleasant—an Elmira “mired” in trouble. She confronts Clara, accusing her of using witchcraft. While trying to prove to the ladies’ lodge that Clara is wicked, Elmira has a serious accident, and Clara, horrified, quickly comes to her aid and engineers Elmira’s election as president. Someone like Elmira—lonely, filled with feelings of rejection by her community, and somewhat paranoid—arguably exists in nearly every community. Her misadventures, though comical, have an edge of sadness, which suggests that there are many different ways to be lonely.
Town jeweler Leo Auffmann has a knack for inventing things. When Douglas idly suggests that he build a Happiness Machine, Leo takes the boy up on the challenge and spends 10 feverish days building a remarkable contraption that entertains people but leaves them saddened when it shows them wonders that their ordinary lives do not contain. Ultimately, Leo learns that real happiness already awaits him at home with the people he loves. His adventure is part of the book’s theme on The Wonder of Everyday Things.
Lena Auffmann loves her husband, Leo, but sometimes chafes when he’s distracted by a fit of inventing. His two weeks of feverish work on the Happiness Machine cause her and their children great stress, and she nearly leaves. Lena represents the many unsung spouses who must take drastic action when their partners become so lost in their work that they overlook their families.
As a representation of the looming presence of death and disaster throughout much of the book, the Lonely One is more of a symbol than an actual character, for the malicious danger that he represents renders him an almost mythological figure in the minds of the young boys and headstrong women who dare the depths of the ravine after dark. A minor character, he appears only once, when the audacious Lavinia Nebbs discovers him lying in wait in her living room. He intends to make her his fourth victim of the summer, but instead, the serial killer loses his own life when Lavinia kills him in self-defense. Despite this outcome, the Lonely One looms large in everyone’s imaginations, especially the boys’. Even when he is discovered to be “Little and red-faced and kind of fat and [without] much hair” (237), the Lonely One retains a legendary status in the town’s collective consciousness, and the young boys even go so far as to insist that because the man who was caught looks nothing like what they expect such a killer to look like, then the “real” Lonely One (i.e., the killer of their imaginations), must still be out there somewhere. Thus, the character stands as a lesson in how people’s imaginations can get the best of them, and how people often prefer that villains look the part.
Old, crusty, and wise, Grandpa is a minor supporting character, but he presides over the most important rituals of the summer, the most significant of which is the pressing and bottling of dandelion wine. This annual ritual helps to preserve in memory of summer’s finest moments, and it also brings the Spauldings closer together as a family. Grandpa is someone to whom Douglas can always turn for wisdom and support; his mere presence has a calming effect, and his advice and decisions are nearly always solid.
Alongside Grandpa, Grandma is the busy proprietor of a successful boarding house. Every night, she cooks meals that are absolutely delicious. An instinctive cook, she runs a messy kitchen, and the dishes she serves are usually unidentifiable, but they’re wildly popular with the boarders nonetheless. When Aunt Rose shows up and tries to reorganize Grandma’s cooking, things go haywire, and Grandma loses her ability to cook. When Douglas puts the kitchen back into disarray, Grandma recovers her skills. Grandma’s interaction with Rose is a lesson in how instinct beats calculation in the creative arts.
Douglas and Tom call their father Dad, and they love and admire him very much. Dad shares with them his enthusiasm for the ordinary things in life, especially the endlessly entrancing dance of the birds, trees, bushes, insects, and breezes of nature. He tells them that bees are “the world humming under its breath” (8), and that sandwiches somehow taste better when eaten outdoors. Though he is a minor, flat character, Dad guides Douglas to an epiphany about being truly alive. Dad is part of a long line of Spauldings, beginning with Great-Grandma, who love life and embrace its daily wonders. Their example teaches Douglas to appreciate life in all its splendor.
When Douglas doesn’t return one evening from playing with friends, his mother, a minor character, begins to worry, especially because there’s a murderer, the Lonely One, on the loose. Mother finds Douglas at the ravine and promises to punish him, and her anger serves as a thin mask for the true depths of her fears. For Tom, her fears about Douglas’s safety also serve as a lesson about the frailty of life and how even a strong, confident parent cannot fully protect a young boy from danger.
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By Ray Bradbury