Hannah Coulter

“[I] learned about grief, and about the absence and emptiness that for a long time make grief unforgettable.”

At an early age, grief becomes a formative presence in Hannah’s life. Her reflection depicts grief not simply as sadness, but as a haunting absence and a daily reminder of what has been lost. Grief, for her, is a painful teacher that leaves lasting impressions. Love, once gone, leaves behind a space that cannot be filled, only honored. Over time, Berry suggests, Hannah’s grief deepens her capacity for love and resilience.

“She was like an old ewe with one lamb.”

Berry uses figurative language to describe Grandmam’s protective role in Hannah’s life. Comparing Grandmam to an old sheep evokes the image of a seasoned, maternal figure, weary yet devoted to the vulnerable life in her care. He portrays Grandmam’s care as singularly focused on shepherding Hannah through hardship. This image reveals not only the tenderness at the heart of their relationship but also how rural wisdom and maternal love sustain the next generation through steady guidance and support.

“When you are old you can look back and see yourself when you were young. It is almost like looking down from Heaven.”

Hannah’s old age offers perspective and the ability to view her younger self with both distance and grace. Hannah’s memory, softened by time, allows for spiritual clarity, enabling her to see the struggles and choices of her youth with compassion rather than judgment. By the end of her life, Hannah has learned that aging is not merely about physical decline but a gathering of wisdom, where life’s meaning becomes increasingly visible.

“War and rumors of war made a kind of pressure against the future or any talk of plans. And then, after Pearl Harbor, our voices sounded different to us, as voices do in a house after an outside door has blown open.”

The war alters not only external realities but also the internal emotional atmosphere of daily life as it suspends hope and disrupts the natural progression of planning and dreaming, particularly for the young. The tonal shift in this passage reflects a collective loss of innocence—something uncontrollable and threatening has entered the intimate space of home. The door imagery symbolizes how the safety and predictability of ordinary life are shattered by global forces beyond the community’s control.

“To be in love with Virgil was to be there, in love, with his parents, his family, his place, his baby.”

Early in the novel, Berry links the concept of love to The Significance of Place and Belonging. Here, Hannah’s words emphasize the expansiveness of love, drawing her into deeper communion with both people and place. Hannah describes the layered and communal nature of her love for Virgil, which extends outward to include his family and future and requires her to take her place in his lineage and share in his responsibilities.

“But grief is not a force and has no power to hold. You only bear it. Love is what carries you, for it is always there, even in the dark, or most in the dark, but shining out at times like gold stitches in a piece of embroidery.”

Here, Hannah makes a distinction between grief and love—unlike love, grief is not an active force; it doesn’t carry or sustain but it must be endured. Love, by contrast, is what gives her the strength to go on. The sewing metaphor evokes the idea that love, like thread in fabric, is woven through the ordinary patterns of life, sometimes hidden, sometimes shining through, especially in the darkest times. This image affirms that while loss is inevitable, it is love that carries people forward.

“For a long time after he was home, I looked on him just as a fixture of the life of Port William as it had reshaped itself after the war.”

Berry positions Nathan as emblematic of the re-rooting of life in Port William following the dislocation of war. His quiet presence and daily labor at the Feltners become an integral part of the landscape itself, helping to reshape a community fractured by loss. For Hannah, Nathan belongs to Port William as much as the land or the seasons do. He becomes a living embodiment of values like loyalty, patience, and love that hold people together.

“To turn to Nathan, to look to him, would be to give my life to the world again. A burnt child shuns the fire.”

Hannah feels the emotional risk of opening her heart again after loss. For her, loving Nathan means reentering the world after a deep loss. She’s painfully aware that love opens the door to future sorrow, framing the choice to love again as an act of courage. This moment marks a turning point in Hannah’s emotional journey when she begins to understand that love, though it brings pain, is also what restores meaning to life.

“Little Margaret had the freedom of both households, and her trips back and forth were the stitches that joined us all together.”

Little Margaret helps the family heal after Virgil’s loss, becoming a living thread that connects two households shaped by sorrow—the Coulters and the Feltners—into one fabric of shared care and belonging. This passage reinforces the vision of “membership,” which posits that individuals are interconnected. Even the smallest actions, such as a child’s freedom to walk between homes, contribute to building a sense of membership.

“A lifetime’s knowledge shimmers on the face of the land in the mind of a person who knows.”

Hannah envisions the land itself as a carrier of the memory and experience of those who have tended it over time—a living history, not inert but vibrant with the stories and wisdom of its caretakers. Berry suggests that this intimate connection to the land comes from long-term attention, care, and respect for the natural world. Human identity and belonging are inextricably linked to a reciprocal relationship with nature, emphasizing the novel’s thematic exploration of Rural Life and Agrarian Values.

“This was his mourning and his benediction, not just for his friend Mat Feltner, but for Grandpa and Grandma Coulter, Kate Helen, Jarrat, Tom, Uncle Jack, for the membership of his life and ours, its long suffering, past and to come.”

Burley carries in his bones the accumulated stories and rhythms of the land. His fiddle playing gives voice to those stories, transforming oral history into living sound. Berry depicts the act of mourning as a sacred gesture, not just for Mr. Feltner but for an entire lineage of families in the community. Calling it both “mourning” and “benediction” emphasizes the idea of grief and blessing as intertwined. In this context, remembering the dead is also a way of honoring their lives and affirming what endures.

“You can see that it is hard to mark the difference between our life and our place, our place and ourselves.”

This passage captures the inseparable bond between people and the land they inhabit. For Hannah and Nathan, the land is not just the place they reside, but an integral part of who they are. In Berry’s novel, life, memory, and place are so intertwined that they become indistinguishable from one another. To know oneself entirely is to be connected to the rhythms of the natural world.

“We would be like stars or planets in their orbits moving apart. And then we would come into alignment again, the sun and the moon and the earth.”

Berry uses a simile to describe the intimacy and distance that exists within a long, enduring relationship. Comparing Hannah and Nathan to celestial bodies that move in their own orbits acknowledges that even the deepest love experiences times of separation, whether emotional or physical. Yet, like the predictable alignment of the sun, moon, and earth, their shared purpose and devotion bring them back into harmony. The comparison highlights the patience and faith at the heart of their marriage.

“Maybe if you had enough children you could get used to those departures, but, having only three, I never did. I felt them like amputations. Something I needed was missing.”

Hannah expresses the pain she feels as her children leave home, likening their departures to losing a body part. The imagery emphasizes not just their physical absence but the sense that she’s lost a vital part of herself. Her identity as a mother is intertwined with the presence of her children. The rawness of her grief reveals the attachment she feels to her children and the life they shared under one roof, underscoring the importance of place and belonging. For Hannah, love brings both joy and inevitable sorrow when time and change stretch the relationship.

“He fits my love, but he no longer fits the place or our life or the knowledge of anything here.”

Even as she affirms her unchanging maternal link with Mattie, Hannah recognizes that he has become disconnected from the rhythms and values of the farm and community. His departure has not only been physical but also cultural and philosophical, leading him to reject the way of life that once defined their family. The contrast between enduring love and increasing distance underscores Hannah’s internal struggle to preserve tradition and connection in a changing world.

“[E]xpectation can be a bucketful of smoke.”

The metaphor conveys the fragility of hope when it’s based on ideals that can’t withstand the unpredictability of life. Hannah’s life experience has taught her the wisdom of learning to accept what is rather than clinging to what she thought would be.

“There comes a time in the life of a farm when it needs young people coming on full of strength and hope with the future shining before them.”

This passage describes the cyclical, generational nature of farm life and the vital role youth plays in its continuity. Hannah recognizes that a farm is not just sustained by labor, but by hope and vitality that comes from young people who see possibility in the land rather than weariness. The health of a place depends on those willing to invest their lives and dreams into it. Here, her words carry sorrow that her children have chosen lives elsewhere, and the ache of watching a beloved way of life slowly fade without new hands to carry it on.

“Your life, as you have lived it, is way back yonder in time. But you are still living, and your living life, expectations subtracted, has a shape, and the shape of it includes the past.”

Berry’s novel explores the ways the past and present shape one’s identity—life goes on in the present, even after expectations and hopes have changed or faded. Hannah’s reflections frame life as an ongoing process where past and present coexist and define our sense of meaning. Here, she recognizes the continuity of self despite loss, disappointment, and inevitable change.

“Death is a sort of lens, though I used to think of it as a wall or a shut door.”

Here, Berry uses contrasting metaphors to highlight Hannah’s evolving understanding of death. As Hannah nears the end of her life, she grows from viewing death as an ending to seeing it as a lens that offers a way to see her life more clearly, refocusing her awareness on what truly matters.

“There is a silence here now that is the absence of many voices.”

In this passage, the quiet symbolizes not just stillness, but the absence of people who have left or passed away. The imagery emphasizes how the fabric of life has thinned, making the place feel emptier and more fragile, drawing attention to the emotional weight of missing voices, memories, and stories that once filled the space. Hannah’s sentiment reflects the bittersweet nature of time’s passage in a close-knit rural life.

“They stood among us like monuments without inscriptions.”

After researching the war, Hannah comes to understand the silent presence of survivors. Comparing them to monuments emphasizes their significant sacrifices and endurance, even if their stories and struggles remain unspoken. The imagery reflects the emotional isolation many veterans felt, bearing the weight of war but often unable to express it.

“The old Port William that I came to in 1941 I think of now as a sort of picture puzzle. It was not an altogether satisfactory picture. It always required some forgiveness, for things that of course could be forgiven. But the picture was more or less complete and more or less put together, and the pieces were more or less replaceable.”

This passage reflects Berry’s resistance to the romanticization of rural life and commitment to revealing the complexity and imperfection of the old Port William community Hannah knew. Describing the picture as “not altogether satisfactory” acknowledges the flaws, conflicts, and hardships inherent to that way of life, yet also celebrates its essential wholeness and coherence. Hannah feels a bittersweet nostalgia for a time when life, though imperfect, felt complete and manageable.

“[H]e told me the story as if I had never heard it. I pretended that I had never heard it, and we laughed.”

Virgie’s story symbolizes continuity and the preservation of legacy in Port William, highlighting the novel’s thematic examination of The Power of Memory and Storytelling. Hannah pretends not to know the story, honoring Virgie’s role of storyteller and letting the moment unfold. Virgie’s story centers on Burley, who Berry positions as representative of Port William’s spirit. For Hannah and Virgie, recalling Burley heals them, affirming their shared past and the importance of their community. That Virgie, once thought lost, now tells Burley’s story, shows he’s committed to being part of the community’s memory-keeping.