Where it All Begins
This book begins with a first-person narration by an unidentified character speaking about a room they have and can never see. It is constructed entirely in their imagination. Everything in the story moves forward relentlessly from this imagery toward explaining this imagery:
“The walls are white and clean, the bed linens crisp as a fallen leaf. The private suite has the very finest of everything. Outside, the breeze is weary, and the cicadas throb in the tall trees, their verdant hiding places just below the window frames. The screens sway inward as the attic fan rattles overhead, pulling at wet air that has no desire to be moved.”
Frozen in Time
The novel tells a story that makes a connection between two different time periods. The distance between those times is not really all that long, but seems much longer due to cultural changes and technological process. This disconnect is portrayed effectively through imagery that brings the past to life for the characters:
“Sepia-toned and bleached white around the edges, the image is a snapshot of a young couple on the shore of a lake or pond. The man wears a battered fedora and holds a fishing pole. His face is difficult to make out—dark eyes, dark hair. He’s handsome, and the way he stands with one foot propped on a fallen log, his slim shoulders cocked back, speaks of confidence—defiance almost. It’s as if he’s challenging the photographer to capture him.”
Ramparts
An interesting recurrence of imagery—one might even suggest it is a link rather than simple recurrence—involves that of ramparts. Most people only use rampart if they also happen to know some of the words to the national anthem. It refers to a structure built for the purpose of defense and appears first as literal imagery and then figuratively:
“If we aren’t constantly slapping new paint on all the ramparts, the wind and the weather will sneak in and erode the accomplishments of a dozen previous generations of the family. The good life demands a lot of maintenance.”
“Even the ramparts of reputation, and ambition, and social position couldn’t erase the love of sisters, their bond with one another. Suddenly, the barriers that created their need for hidden lives and secret meeting places seem almost as cruel as those of brokered adoptions, altered paperwork, and forced separations.”
Gators
Another connection that is drawn through imagery is one made between curiosity, fascination and fear in the kids. The orphanage situated by the river holds secrets that and rumors that stimulate fascination but also a sense of fear. The result of this combination is, of course, always intensifying curiosity. The same holds true alligators in the river and this is where the imagery makes the connection:
“I dangle my legs under the rail of our shantyboat, watching for a gator’s eyes to catch the amber flicker of lantern light. Gators shouldn’t stray this far upwater on the Mississippi, but there’s been gossip about sightings around here lately. This makes looking for them a game of sorts. Shantyboat kids take their entertainment where they can find it.”
“Nobody talks about what goes on down there...If you talk about it, they say, Riggs’ll get you and snap your neck and say you fell out of a tree or tripped on the porch steps. Then they’ll cart your body off to the swamps and feed it to the gators, and nobody’ll ever hear about you again.”
