Sea Bubble
The book commences and closes upon an example of imagery. The not-quite-but-close opening line of the book and the last line before the Epilogue are exactly the same. This line is pure imagery, situating the internal feelings of the narrator in language that is clear enough, but with ambiguous meaning. The very fact that the literal meaning is not explicitly spelled out is what endows the imagery with its power. One is left to arrive at a personal interpretation:
“I am a sea bubble floating, floating in a dream. Bhop.”
Setting
Elsewhere, imagery is effectively used to describe the setting. But the purpose is not merely to set the backdrop for where the story is taking place. The setting itself is central to the storyline at that part of the narrative as a distinction is drawn between neighborhoods as a means of hinting at differences and distinctions between those occupying different strata in American society:
“As I walk back down the hill, I notice that the air seems fresher up here. Like it is out in the country or something. Even the faint smell of fertilizer seems clean. The bright moonlight makes everything glow more fiercely. The lawns, mowed smooth and flat as a new-made bed, gleam a strange, poisonous green. I kneel down and run my fingers through the cool blades to make sure they really exist. I'm glad we buried Harry up here. I take a deep breath of air and hold it in my lungs for as long as I can.
In my neighborhood, instead of lawns there are fields of concrete and asphalt. It is rare to see grass, and even then it’s usually dead.”
Money-Go-Round
Even a trip to the fair is fraught with economic tension. The sights and sounds that most people associated with the good time the are having is transformed into imagery that underlines not the fun being had but the fun being missed because even the change spent on playing games to win prizes becomes a source of anxiety, much less such even more obvious indulgences as drinks and snacks:
“People on the tilt-a-whirl scream long and loud, but then laugh that they are just playing. A scary voice howls from the house with the crooked door and broken windows. The Ferris wheel chimes happy as an ice cream truck. The smell of pink sweet cloud candy makes my tongue wiggle in my mouth. Someday I will go on all the rides and eat anything I want. Even have lemonade instead of just water from the fountain.”
“Revealing Forms”
The chapter titled “Revealing Forms” is all about imagery. It is a tiny little masterpiece of suspense, almost Hitchcockian in the tension it builds as you pursue the answer to mystery with mixture of both eagerness and hesitation. You want to know what the narrator wants to know but at the time you also share her trepidation about whether you really want to know or not:
“I circle through the living room again, sniffing the air, wondering at the strange odor that does not belong in this house. In the kitchen, I lift up the lid from the soup pot and check to see what's for breakfast. Empty. I put the lid back down and lean against the counter. No breakfast? Uhmma always has breakfast ready. My mouth begins to water, not from hunger, but from the famihar nervousness that makes my stomach throw up all of its contents. I start to look for the brown bag I saw Uhmma with earlier. I open the yellow plastic trash can. Empty. I pace up and down the length of the kitchen. I have to find that smell.”
