Let the Irony Begin
This is a novel steeped in irony. The ironic positively crashes overboard onto the decks of the Aurora and it all begins on page 1. Or possibly page 2 depending on the version one reads. The genuinely creepy opening chapter has the narrator waking in the middle of the night to the unexpected feeling of her cat pawing at her face. The cat should not be there and the fact that it is means she likely forgot to shut kitchen door before going to bed. This though stimulates the imagination and soon enough she’s scared herself into imagining that a burglar has also discovered that entryway into her privacy. Just as quickly, however, she simmers down on logical conclusion that the kitchen door was left open because she was so drunk and that same perceptual disconnecting is leading to these paranoid thoughts about the unlikeliest of scenarios being the one that plays out. And when she goes to the kitchen to check, a brutally little lady named irony is revealed to be standing behind her bedroom door that takes the shape of a strange man who has illegally entered her home.
The Epicenter of Irony
The epicenter of the book’s pervasive sense of the ironic is encapsulated in an assertion made the narrator first to another character and then to herself:
"You’re completely safe. We’re on a boat in the middle of the ocean—no one can get in or away. It’s about the safest place you could possibly be."
This assertion has likely never been accurately applied to anyone in history and even if it has, needless to say that it exists in a state of pure irony in this particular instance.
Foreshadowing
Irony is often interconnected with foreshadowing in fiction, especially in thrillers and mysteries. Early in the book before the story settles for good out there in the middle of the ocean on the cruise ship, the narrator is studying the floor plans of the ship. In addition to pervasive irony, unwise decision-making runs rampant. In many cases, of course, the two commingle:
“I frowned, remembering some of the cross-channel ferries I’d been on, the claustrophobic, windowless little rooms. The thought of spending five days in one of those wasn’t a comfortable one, but surely on a boat like this, we’d be talking something considerably more spacious?”
Non-Spoiler Spoiler Alert
It won’t be apparent here, but it will be when reading the book. About midway through there is another form of foreshadowing with an even harsh ironic edge when the narrator makes a reference to the psychological state of a person with whom she’s just had a significant conversation. Even when knowing the identity of this person, the irony won’t be come apparent until some later afterward:
“If someone had been walking along the deck outside and had glanced in the window, they would never have known that I had just told him something that could deal a sucker punch to his business, and revealed the presence of a possible psychopath on board a small ship.”
A View to Die For
The ship on which most of the book takes place is called the Aurora. It is a cruise into the fjords of Norway offering a spectacular view of the Northern Lights, the aurora borealis. The narrator will eventually get the opportunity to enjoy that view, but before the cruise even gets underway it is grounded in the deep seas of ironic foreshadowing:
“The aurora borealis is something that everyone should see before they die.”
