"It's a lot of work. And from what I understand of your situation, this is the least of your worries."
This may not seem like an overtly cruel line, but it certainly is a condescending one. Marie has been seeking a diagnosis for Johnny so she can better his condition of life, and the journey has been marked by numerous encounters such as this: a professional subtly judging her for being poor, perhaps evincing a degree of racism against Natives (there is little proof of this in the text, but it is a possible inference). She is told that her poverty will make things more difficult for her—as if she did not know this already—and that Johnny is probably fine and his teachers in the future can do more, unlikely given the slight resources of Rouge Hill. Again, this is more subtle than blatant, but it is an example of the everyday prejudice that people of few means endure.
She knew she was waking me from a nightmare. She had done this before: helping people escape, or escape herself.
Bing is a remarkably perceptive child, and as he sees Tita Mae helping him and his mother get away from his father, he has the above thought. He can tell that Tita Mae is another woman who has been battered or seen women battered. Men in this novel are frequently violent, or, at the very least, are not good parents or husbands. Though men live in the same impoverished position as women in Scarborough or face racism and homophobia, they are the wielders of violence and not the receivers; women's lives are rendered more difficult, emotionally heavy, and physically stressing than men's.
I want to give you a word of caution about making food the main draw for families. We know you are located in a low-income neighborhood, and I want to assure you that the resources are there to feed these community members elsewhere.
Jane Fulton does not live or work in Scarborough. She is based in Toronto and communicates with Hina primarily from her comfortable perch in the city. She assumes she has an idea of what the neighborhood and life for its denizens are really like; however, while she no doubt has a grasp on data and professionals' view of how things are and should be, she does not really know. Hina is with these people daily, sees their struggles, and knows that the resources are not found elsewhere. Many of the children are extremely hungry and lacking in basic hygiene, and those needs must be met before looking to play and reading. Jane's cluelessness and callousness set her and Hina up for a clash, which Hernandez ably resolves in favor of the latter.
"This is your Forever Box. No one can touch it. You can put your most important things inside there. Johnny won't touch it. I won't touch it. Daddy won't touch it."
Marie understands that while her family doesn't have much, they do have some things, and Sylvie needs a place of her own to keep them. Having special possessions that only belong to you, that are cherished and protected, that remind you of people and times and memories—such things are important to all people. Marie's action of giving Sylvie the box is also evidence of what a good mother she is. She knows her daughter feels slighted by all the attention lavished on Johnny, and she is frustrated that Johnny destroyed her puzzle. By making her a box and promising to protect the box's sacredness, Marie is showing Sylvie that she sees her, values her, and knows how to meet her needs.
He hated hearing his name. The same name as the dad he never knew.
One of Hernandez's strengths as a writer is helping the reader to have sympathy for even the most unlikable characters. Cory is a very unlikable character in his white supremacist beliefs, poor parenting skills, and inability to take responsibility for himself. However, we see glimmers of what shaped him to be this way. In this quote, we realize Cory's father left his family and he never knew him, resulting in a feeling of being bereft and unloved. Abandonment follows Cory into his relationship with his girlfriend Jessica, who was also almost abandoned, and to their daughter Laura, who was abandoned by Jessica. Adding to this what we know about Cory's "poor white trash" status, it is evident that he has had his fair share of struggles. This does not excuse his racism or his explosive temper, but it does explain it.
It is a splendid fantasy complete with American Idol judge remarks, love affairs, unwanted paparazzi, you name it.
Bing is a brilliant young man, but he is also prone to flights of fancy such as this fantasy of performing for the world to see and subsequently reconciling with his estranged father. These fantasies do not take over and preclude him from living his life; they allow him to indulge in what he wants, what he hopes for, and what he feels strongest and most beautiful doing. He is able to forget about being overweight, about losing his father, about keeping his queerness quiet, and about being bullied when he envisions himself in such a fashion. And though Hernandez does not go beyond what is realistic—i.e. having Bing's father be cured and come back to the family—Bing does get his moment of acceptance and celebration when he sings before the school.
The doors opened at his floor to a combination of canned laughter and heavy-handed soundtracks blasting through the thin walls, the sound of televisions being watched in each household like an escape, like a babysitter in a box.
Readers can envision stepping into a hallway and hearing the television sets blaring—a remarkably familiar contemporary scene, especially in low-income housing. With the pressures of long work hours, little money, and perhaps an absent spouse, parents might have to use the television as a babysitter because that is all they have at their disposal. And as Cindy relates in her own section, the television can be an escape for adults as well.
When he was out of my vision, my throat let out a sharp sob. I stifled it. I knew I wasn't speaking just to him but the ghosts of my past.
We do not get to know Clive too well, but we do get a brief insight into this seemingly staid and upright man's inner life. He is a closeted homosexual who seeks fulfillment of his desires in clandestine encounters, and he has "ghosts" in his past that seem to have to do with the sharp advice he gave Cory on being a better father. Again, while we do not know exactly what he is referring to, we realize that Clive is yet another character that has struggled, tried to figure out who he really is, and tried to parent while not knowing exactly how to do so.
I closed my eyes, doing as Elder Fay told me to, and thought good thoughts of Laura...I remembered her well.
Memory is an important theme in the text. It is, at times, painful, heavy, and perhaps impedes a person's ability to move forward. Other times, as here, it is a powerful and restorative thing that facilitates growth, understanding, and harmony. Bing thinks of all the good things he remembers about Laura, thus keeping her alive in his and the collective memory. He sees her at her best—when she is happy, when she is at peace, and when she feels safe. This is the version of Laura that should have always existed, and it is the version with which Hernandez closes the novel.
The sound of ice cracking and rivers flowing. The Rouge conservation area is alive again. Three fawns travel like secrets through the forest at sunset.
Hernandez uses the framing device of the four seasons to structure her novel and give it deeper meaning. Here, she is writing of the spring, and her imagery suggests new beginnings, freedom, life, vibrancy, delicacy, and strength. It is in the spring that Bing comes to know himself better and shows that self to the world, that Sylvie makes peace with the changes in her life, that Marie has a breakthrough with Johnny, and that Hina's standing up for herself results in a new and better boss.
