Darkness
There is very likely no single metaphor that occurs in greater number and in more works of literature since the dawn of the 20th century than “darkness.” Its use is so omnipresent that it has become the defining metaphor of the modern age. Darkness as metaphor occurs even more often in this book than most, but there is a very specific reason for its robust appearance. As imagery, darkness is used to identify the presence of Luc, the mysterious super-powerful entity capable of making deals with humans in exchange for souls:
“She knows it is a trick, a shadow parading as a man, but the sight of him still robs her breath. The darkness looks down at his shape, seeing himself as if for the first time, and seems to approve.”
“She conjures his face, those green eyes, those black curls, tries to will the darkness into shape again, but moments pass, and she is still alone.”
Stubborn Addie
The one single recurrence of imagery that seems to define Addie more than any other is stubbornness. At stops along the way throughout the narrative, the word keeps coming back, popping up to remind readers that despite the fantastical trajectory her life has taken, the primary character of Addie remains essentially unchanged:
“There will be other dark nights, of course, other wretched dawns, and her resolve will always weaken a little as the days grow long, and the anniversary draws near, and treacherous hope slips in like a draft. But the sorrow has faded, replaced by stubborn rage, and she resolves to kindle it, to shield and nurture the flame until it takes far more than a single breath to blow it out.”
Stubborn Luc
Luc, the old god who makes the devilish deal with Addie, is quick to recognize this character trait. And, in fact, can probably be said to exploit it since that it is really what the art of the deal is all about. His reaction to her displays of stubborn occur more than once, always verbatim, using the same imagery. The repetition suggests he knows a thing or two more than Addie might:
“You are a stubborn thing. But even rocks wear away to nothing.”
“Villon was not supposed to change. When she was growing up, it was always so painfully still, like summer air before a storm. A village carved in stone. And yet, what was it Luc said? Even rocks wear away to nothing.”
“Even rocks,” he murmurs, and then he’s gone.
Who Knew There’d be Rules?
Addie learns early on—while still known as Adeline—about the mysterious power of those entities referred to only as the “old gods.” She learns they are everything, they are plentiful, and they have no names. One of the last things she learns is that, sigh, they also have rules. And stubborn Adeline is well-known for having an aversion to rules:
“You must humble yourself before them. You must offer them a gift. Something precious to you. And you must be careful what you ask for…The old gods may be great, but they are neither kind nor merciful. They are fickle, unsteady as moonlight on water, or shadows in a storm. If you insist on calling them, take heed: be careful what you ask for, be willing to pay the price…And no matter how desperate or dire, never pray to the gods that answer after dark.”
