This post written by Terra Luft, Operations Manager.
This Pulitzer Prize-winning novel expertly weaves the theme of loss—both literal and figurative—into a contemporary coming-of-age story so beautifully that I couldn’t put it down. I loved it so much that I had to read it again, and again.
In the opening chapter, Theo Decker enters a museum with his mother and leaves with a priceless painting. This single event sets him adrift in the world as a motherless boy–a devastating loss on the cusp of adolescence. The story is told through this amazing character as we witness the real influence and power of his mother’s love.
I love the journey of Theo this book chronicles. His loss of innocence, the way his world view shifts and follows him through his life, and the question of whether such a loss can be weathered effectively as he grows into adulthood. The negative space his mother leaves behind is a constant reminder of his loss, even when the events of the roller-coaster plot don’t talk specifically about it.
A beautiful example of theme expertly woven through the entire book.
What I find the most appealing is that this loss is not what the plot of the story is focused on and yet the feeling I’m left with at the end, the beautiful prose notwithstanding, is the loss that Theo has grappled with his entire life. Much like hindsight at the end of a life, I look back from the ending of the book to see his haunting loss at every turn of the story and find that although none of the events of the story are focused on the theme of loss, it is literally always there.
Theme is an advanced concept that is sometimes difficult to explain and even harder to master.
If you try too hard to write to theme, it can come off heavy-handed. It is much more effective when hidden and subtle, as a whisper of things unsaid between the things that are, which then resonates through the book.
One example of this in The Goldfinch is the contrast of Theo’s relationship with his father and the one he has with his mother. Chapter Two starts (page 55) with Theo remembering that:
“When I was little, four or five, my greatest fear was that some day my mother might not come home from work.”
Yet, later in the chapter (page 57) he talks about how his father had abandoned them without a word years before his mother’s death.
“Apart from his daily awkwardness, we didn’t see him much… Consequently, neither my mother nor I had been overly troubled when we woke one Saturday and found he hadn’t come home at all.”
What is not said is the contrast of the different losses – one devastating, the other barely noticed. Theo’s story is one of loss that can only be measured in the absence of a profound love through which the events of the plot are framed.
In Chapter One (page 28), during the last conversation Theo has with his mother, she says:
“I guess that anything we manage to save from history is a miracle.”
At the time they are talking about physical things, paintings in a museum, but this sticks with Theo who at the end of the book in Chapter 12 (page 771) says:
“Life—whatever else it is—is short…it is a glory and a privilege to love what Death doesn’t touch.”
The two quotes are separated by the span of both the events of the story and of Theo’s aging well into adulthood, yet the unspoken thing in between all of it is this image of his mother, who loved old and priceless paintings, and the connection Theo feels to old and priceless paintings because they have come to symbolize his mother’s love, which her death could not take from him.
It pulls at my guts and my heart, and yet it only exists in the theme of the book, not specific events or things said in the narrative or the dialogue.
If you struggle with how to apply the use of theme in your own writing, seeing examples of it done well is often the best teacher. The Goldfinch is highly recommended, whether you’re looking for a way to increase your effectiveness at weaving theme into story, or you just want to enjoy a great book. I promise you won’t be disappointed.
Find it at Amazon or add it to your Goodreads shelf!