Opening Scene
The opening paragraph of Chapter One is primarily imagery. That imagery is constituted from the things which Jessica sees by looking through a kitchen window: untended rhubarb, old bamboo stakes encircled by tendrils and twine, a thick carpeting of pine needles. Metaphor sums it up:
“The backyard was a mess, as it had always been while her mother was alive… But the cacophony hinted at other, more ordered things.”
Character Description
Similes are often the go-to literary device for describing character. The built-in comparative component of the simile proves especially effective in conveying a lot of information within a restricted volume of words. Of course, this type of shorthand can also become confusing when it is one character describing another:
“I’ll never understand why Donna insisted on looking like she was woven out of bran.”
…And Should Have
Towards the end of the book, the reader is treated to a graphically intimate peek into a sexual relationship between a middle-aged man and an underage girl. Little wonder that the man thinks in terms of metaphor when reflecting upon this passion:
“When they kissed, he felt the warmth from her lips in every last cell of his skin. He might have burst into flame. But he didn’t care.”
When Tension Is Palpable
Isn’t it weird how the very atmosphere inside a room can seem to completely transform at the hands of suppressed emotional tension? People say nothing and do nothing to manifest the emotional turmoil, yet the tension manages to escape and poison the air around you. Weird but true:
“Donna and Devin hated her. Not always and not for the same reasons, but they hated her often enough and with enough ferocity that she worried when the house grew too still. In those moments, she could feel the animosity in the air, thick."
Another Happy Marriage
Marriage, the institution above all others. The union of bride and groom that in a matter of minutes transforms everything. A happy occasion for all concerned for at least the time of the ceremony. Alas, some marriages don’t even warrant that brief bit of magic:
“She stared at his face, transparent in the sunshine, and tried to remember the angle of his nose, the color of the flecks in his eyes. She couldn’t. He may as well have been a fake man with a wooden skeleton and unyielding, painted skin.
The ceremony ended. She held Charles’ hand. She became Mrs. Worth.”
