53 pages • 1-hour read
Amity GaigeA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of death, gender discrimination, and addiction.
Survival against difficult odds and resilience in the face of adversity are important ideas within this novel. Valerie’s story engages most overtly with this theme, but Bev and Lena also demonstrate resilience, and as the novel progresses, it reveals the sources of each woman’s inner strength, linking that strength to a deep and abiding sense of self.
Valerie’s trail name, “Sparrow,” establishes the basic thematic pattern: She chose it because it was a childhood nickname and because her mother always told her that sparrows are survivors. True to her nickname, Valerie does survive alone in the woods for much longer than the search team thinks possible, aided in no small part by her basic character, including her ability to connect with those she meets: Because Valerie managed to convince Daniel that she was not a threat, he retrieved her pack for her before leaving her behind. Just as importantly, Valerie’s empathy for Daniel underscores that crisis has not altered who she is; despite her sense that the pandemic has drained her, Valerie retains her essential traits. This survival of self intertwines with her determination to survive physically, with the latter encapsulated by her statement “I absolutely refuse to die out here” (85). In addition to taking various commonsense measures—drinking filtered rainwater, limiting her movement to conserve energy, etc.—she also draws on a well of inner resolve, retreating into self-reflection to stay grounded and connected with herself. In the final journal entry before her rescue, she reflects that she can “taste childhood puddles” in the rainwater she drinks (256), underscoring the long roots of her will to survive.
Though different from Valerie in temperament, Bev shares a quiet certainty about who she is that lends her strength in hard times. Bev had a difficult childhood and emerged scathed but functional. After having to parent both her mother and her siblings, Bev established herself in a career where she could finally feel at home and where her love of the outdoors and “mannish” traits were finally assets rather than sources of disappointment. Though many of her colleagues and supervisors have nevertheless seen her as less capable and competent because she is a woman, this only drove her to work twice as hard to prove that she is where she belongs. That hard work is a survival tactic, but it has also become a source of strength and made her better at her job.
Lena similarly struggles with traditional gender roles and childhood trauma. As a highly intelligent child who struggled socially, she had difficulty forming deep relationships, and while she survived these challenges, her adult life has similarly been marked by hardship—in particular, her experiences of marriage and motherhood. In one sense, she serves as a cautionary tale, revealing how a strong sense of identity can promote survival while also calcifying into an unhealthy coping mechanism: Lena’s interest in science and observation is real, but it is also a shield she uses to distance herself from her loved ones in an effort to spare herself pain. Yet that same interest also forms the basis for the relationships she does have, both as she maintains friendships with Warren and Daniel and as she forges a meaningful relationship with her grandson. Ultimately, her arc thus underscores that resilience begins with knowing and accepting who one is.
All three of the novel’s protagonists have complex relationships with their mothers—something that has carried over into Lena’s relationship with her daughter. The novel is thus a meditation on the lasting impact of fraught family bonds, exploring the lasting impact of childhood trauma on adults but also suggesting that even difficult familial relationships can be meaningful.
Of the three women, Valerie has the closest and most straightforward relationship with her mother, yet their bond is hardly untroubled. Her journal entries, for example, discuss her teenage frustration with (and rebellion against) her parents’ suburban lifestyle, as well as her sense of inadequacy compared to her mother. Nevertheless, she loves her mother, who remains a source of inspiration for her throughout her ordeal. Channeling her mother’s voice, she observes, “You’d be so mad [if I died]! I have painted you as a sweetheart because I miss you, but you could be very exacting” (255). This tension—mothers as both nurturing and harsh—runs throughout the novel, paralleling the depiction of nature (another “mother”) and structuring the other characters’ familial relationships.
For example, Bev’s ambivalent relationship with her mother forms a significant subplot, as her mother is in hospice and her sisters want to sign a do-not-resuscitate order. She recalls of her mother, “As a matriarch, my mother was gravely miscast” (72), but she also notes, “I felt an intense sense of duty to her anyway” (72). Her mother was widowed and left to care for all of her children alone, ultimately developing a dependency on alcohol and pills. Bev thus stepped in to care for her younger sisters, which catapulted her into adulthood before she was fully ready. Nevertheless, Bev ultimately sees her childhood as a story of resilience. She developed an early work ethic that has served her well in her career, and she also suggests that interacting with her mother taught her empathy and understanding. As an adult, she does not blame her mother but rather credits her with shaping her into the person she became.
Lena’s storyline shares key similarities with Bev’s, including a mother who struggled with parenting and the early loss of a beloved father. As an adult, Lena can understand that her mother did the best that she could, but her struggle simply to provide necessities meant that she had little energy to devote to attending to her daughter’s emotional needs: “There were entire years when food was scarce, which made the absence of love or affection or community seem like a secondary loss” (198). Never having received maternal love, Lena later struggled to show it, a tendency compounded by the fact that she found motherhood to be a poor substitute for the career she had longed for. Robbed of the opportunity for formal study, she turned her daughter into a test subject but failed to form a real bond with Christine because emotional connectivity scared her. It is not until later in life that she reaches out to Christine, by which point Christine has little interest in reestablishing a connection. Nevertheless, Christine does consent to let Lena have a relationship with her son, Austin, reaffirming that even troubled mother-daughter bonds can be sources of meaning and fulfillment.
Nature is figured as both an adversary and a space of sanctuary in this novel. For Valerie and other hikers, getting lost is a key danger. Still, even after everything she endures, Valerie views her hike as an opportunity for solitude, reflection, and retreat.
As the novel begins, Valerie is already lost, and Bev is ruminating on how easy it is to get lost in the Maine wilderness. The idea of nature as an adversary thus frames the unfolding story. The sections that flash back to Valerie’s hike underscore this, with Valerie herself worrying about getting lost, particularly when leaving the trail to urinate; the idea that a minor detour to satisfy a basic bodily need could prove fatal highlights just how precarious life in the wilderness can be. Though it is Daniel’s intervention, not any mistake on Valerie’s part, that ultimately nearly kills Valerie, the novel retains its focus on the natural threat rather than the human one. Valerie’s interactions with Daniel (who, notably, did not intend her any harm) add up to only a small fraction of her broader narrative, as her ordeal did not end when he left. Instead, she is left to wander, lost, for days, battling against hunger in particular. She rations her food but knows that she will soon run out—a disastrous possibility, as she is ill-prepared to forage and struggles to eat the grubs that she finds. By the time she is found, she is close to death.
Nevertheless, Valerie ultimately views this experience as an opportunity for retreat and reflection. She notes, “I myself had undertaken a solo hike in the woods, a decision rooted in the desire to slip away, just for a little, to hide from everything and everybody” (165). At the beginning of her hike, she was still reeling from the trauma of having worked as a nurse throughout the COVID-19 pandemic. She was also struggling in her marriage, and the hike has provided her with the chance to think critically about her relationship with Gregory and her goals for the future. Valerie is adamant that the difficult, solitary portions of her hike provided the best opportunity for reflection, noting in her journal, “Have you ever hiked above the tree line? You should someday. It’s holy up there” (250). In these wild, lonely spaces, Valerie is forced to encounter herself in a new way and finds that she better understands her life and her choices. Ultimately, it is precisely because nature poses such staunch challenges that it also becomes a space of self-knowledge and reinvention.



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