44 pages • 1 hour read
Water appears in many forms throughout the novel, most notably in the frozen swimming hole and river in Chapter 1, in the viaduct in Chapter 2, and in the waterworks in Chapters 4 through 7. Water carries different significance in each of its appearances (which are more numerous than just these examples) and to each character. In the scene where Patrick and Hazen rescue the cow that fell through the ice over the swimming hole, water is dangerous, powerful, and painful; in the context of the viaduct, it is grand, awe-inspiring, and dangerous; in the waterworks, it is a force of destruction and oppression. An important example of water’s complex and paradoxical nature occurs when Caravaggio breaks into Anne’s house on the lake: Anne declares she has “literally fallen in love with the lake,” and Caravaggio counters that he has “always had a fear of water creatures” (203).
Like water, fire and dynamite carry different connotations in their various appearances in the novel. Dynamite is associated with skill and precision in the context of Hazen and Patrick’s jobs as industrial dynamiters. However, dynamite causes Hazen and Alice’s tragic deaths, so it also carries the threat of mortal danger and violence. When Patrick infiltrates the waterworks, planning to set off an explosion in the plant, dynamite is portrayed as a productive weapon against the oppressive power of water.
Skin and its role in creating identity are emphasized throughout the novel. On the one hand, skin is sometimes treated as an unalterable marker of true identity (notably in the repeated references to the scar on the side of Alice’s nose); on the other hand, skin is sometimes referred to as a costume—an artificial cloak that lets its wearer assume a false or undeserved identity. Furthermore, skin is emphasized as a sign of humanness—a point of common humanity between characters of disparate backgrounds. Especially in the scenes where Clara touches Patrick, cleans his face, or tends to his wounds, skin-to-skin contact is symbolic of the bridging across social classes.
An important commonality between the novel’s three viewpoint characters—Patrick, Nicholas, and Caravaggio—is their comfort and sense of liberty in the absence of light or sight. Patrick learns how to throw himself around his apartment in the dark without ever hitting anything, and in his final crime he casts off his lamp and swims into the waterworks in darkness, feeling his way without sight. In Chapter 2, Nicholas is capable of working on the bridge without needing to see his surroundings. Caravaggio, as a professional thief, relies on the cover of darkness to do his work successfully. Darkness and blindness recur throughout the novel in significant ways, typically associated with freedom and uninhibitedness. In Chapter 3, when Clara and Patrick visit Alice’s farmhouse, Clara shows herself to be free and uninhibited by thrashing and dancing in the darkness. In Chapter 5, Patrick seeks refuge in the Garden of the Blind after committing arson because there he can remain free, unidentified by sight.
In the absence of sight—in the liberty of darkness or blindness—other senses dominate. Smell in particular recurs throughout the novel: Patrick remembers the smell of Clara or Alice after he loses them; he is haunted by the tannery’s foul odor; and when he is hiding in the Garden of the Blind, he notes that the garden is designed so that blind residents can orient themselves based on smells placed in different locations. Smell is associated with memory and logistical orientation.
A feature of the novel’s unusual and dappled narrative style is the ambiguity surrounding which events are real and which are dreamed. Dream sequences in the novel—notably Caravaggio’s Chapter 6 nightmare about being attacked in prison—often function dually as flashbacks. Because these episodes are surreal, the reality of the events remains obscure and uncertain.
The moon appears several times in Chapters 3, 4, and 5 as a symbol associated with Alice. It seems to suggest her quiet and mysterious yet constant nature. The new moon (or the absence of moonlight) is associated with Caravaggio in Chapter 6: “A thief’s moon” (180), which sheds no light, allows him the safety and liberty of darkness.
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By Michael Ondaatje