What About Ash?
The book kicks off with a conversation between cousins who are close as brothers about their friend Ash who is as close a cousin. But she isn’t a cousin. And the parents/aunt-and-uncle of one of those cousins has begun dropping hints that their relationship with Ash might be about to change, noting how she is starting to turn into a real beauty. The cousins dismiss the idea, but the language choice suggest otherwise:
“Who cares that she’s got hair like some kind of fairy princess? She’s Ash.”
Ashton
You can always tell the exact moment some young girls make the transition into adolescent maturity. Those girls who have gone by a nickname for as long as anyone can remember suddenly announces they want to be called by the actual full name. Another way, of course, is to read something they have written along these lines:
“Absently he started tracing small circles on my upper arm. It was almost as if little jolts of electricity were zinging through my body.”
Ashton Gets Poetic
The Ashton quoted above is the young woman in the grips of hormones being unloosened. The imagery is not exactly the result of overactive brain activity. But she is the feminine center of this love triangle and so it is be expected that her metaphors would become more poetic than the cousins at various points along the way. Not to mention more self-reflective:
“An empty plastic bag danced in the wind across the parking lot, and I watched it, thinking I knew exactly how it felt. It was on a path it couldn’t control. So was I.”
Beau Tries, Bless His Heart
On the other hand, give credit where it’s do. One of the cousins, Beau, does try his best to work in a little poetic metaphor when describing the impact of friendship turning into passion. This imagery will make a little more sense with the addition of contextual information: Ashton is the preacher’s daughter. Because, of course, she would be:
“If I’d ever taken the time to wonder about my soul being as black as this town seemed to believe, I knew the moment Ashton stepped out of her little white Jetta, looking like an angel from heaven, that my soul was damned to hell.”
He Ain’t Metaphorical, He’s My Brother
Metaphorical language is a funny thing. The exact same image or phrase or even word can be completely literal one minute and then do backflip through the air to become figurative the very next. This next example illuminates this particular felicity of the English language:
“Ash, Beau isn’t my cousin. He’s my . . . He’s my brother.”
I sat there as I let his words sink in. Did he mean in the metaphorical sense? I mean, I already knew he thought of Beau as his brother.
