Catharine’s unnamed father is the novel’s central antagonist, a charismatic and manipulative cult leader who orchestrates the community’s descent from a utopian agricultural collective into a site of psychological and physical abuse. He’s a round, static character; while his methods grow more extreme, his core motivation remains an unwavering pursuit of absolute control. Initially, his charisma is his primary tool. He presents the farm as a sanctuary from a corrupt outside world, a place where shared work and discipline lead to a higher state of being. He can appear “light and hopeful, supportive and warm” (18), drawing people in with a vision of communal flourishing and self-improvement. This persona, however, is a carefully constructed performance that masks his deeply controlling and cruel nature.

As his power solidifies, the father’s methods shift from ideological persuasion to overt psychological and physical torment. He weaponizes hunger, turning the community’s food source, The Farm’s Gardens, into a tool of deprivation through forced fasting. His most dehumanizing instrument of control is his scale, which he introduces to quantify and publicly scrutinize each member’s commitment, reducing their worth to a number. His punishment of Catharine, where he presents bowls of manure as a meal, is a theatrical display of power designed for public humiliation, demonstrating his belief that control is maintained by exposing and exploiting his followers’ deepest vulnerabilities. He chillingly explains his philosophy: “This place? It operates on knowing your weakest self” (17). This approach ensures that any failure to adhere to his increasingly arbitrary rules is perceived as a personal, moral failing on the part of the follower.

Ultimately, the father’s obsession with purity and discipline is revealed to be a projection of his own paranoia and ego. As members begin to leave the farm, his control tightens, and his punishments escalate. He isolates the community, rebranding discipline as a defense against a world that has “managed to rebrand discipline as some sort of cruelty” (82). He manipulates love, family bonds, and the universal desire for purpose to build a world where his power is absolute and unquestionable, making him a chilling representation of how charisma can beget tyranny.

Linna is Catharine’s adopted sister and serves as her primary foil, representing a path of questioning and resistance that Catharine is too fearful to take. Initially portrayed as a quiet, bookish child who finds sanctuary on the dining-hall stage, which she transforms into a library, Linna evolves into the community’s most perceptive critic. While Catharine internalizes their father’s ideology as a means of survival, Linna recognizes its flaws and dangers. Her relationship with Catharine, symbolized by the private, sacred world of the treehouse, is a cornerstone of the narrative, and its eventual fracturing highlights the immense pressure that their father’s control exerts on even the strongest bonds.

Linna’s rebellion is rooted in a growing clarity about the farm’s oppressive nature. She sees through her father’s rhetoric, questioning the endless fasts and the community’s stagnation. Her romance with Kent serves as a catalyst, offering her a vision of a life and a connection outside the suffocating confines of the farm. This relationship gives her the courage to voice her dissent and plan an escape, embodying a desire for freedom that Catharine has suppressed.

Linna’s ultimate fate becomes the central mystery that drives Catharine in the present. She’s fiercely loyal, defending Catharine from Jessie’s bullying and attempting to protect her from their father’s manipulative punishments. She tries to make Catharine see that self-worth can’t be achieved through self-hatred, telling her, “You can’t bully yourself into being happy or good, Catharine. […] It doesn’t work that way” (253). Her disappearance after a confrontation with their father marks the point of no return for Catharine, forcing her to confront a truth she has long avoided. Linna functions as the story’s moral compass that is destroyed at the hands of her father’s tyranny.

Reese is the catalyst for the novel’s present-day narrative. As an investigative journalist, his arrival in Catharine’s life via email forces her to confront the past she has meticulously buried. Reese is a round character who, while professionally motivated, reveals a more complex and manipulative side in his pursuit of the story. His initial contact with Catharine, with the subject line “Story about your childhood?” (10), immediately shatters her carefully constructed reality. He’s persistent and resourceful, having dedicated years to investigating the farm, which underscores his professional ambition.

Reese employs a combination of charm, empathy, and strategic manipulation to gain Catharine’s trust. He presents himself as an ally, insisting that his work is a mission to hold her father accountable. However, his methods are calculated. He withholds key information, such as the identity of his source and the fact that he has visited the farm’s former location, to maintain an advantage. His ambition becomes most apparent when he fantasizes about the story’s potential, treating Catharine’s trauma as a source of money and fame.

Catharine’s mother, Lisa, is a tragic figure whose journey illustrates the slow erosion of spirit under tyrannical control. In Catharine’s early memories, she’s a source of gentle guidance, teaching her daughter to find peace in deep breaths and the beauty of the farm. However, as the father’s rule becomes more oppressive, she slowly becomes a trapped and defeated woman. Her recurring migraines and deteriorating physical health serve as a metaphor for her psychological suffering and inability to escape her husband’s influence.

Lisa functions as a voice of quiet dissent, though she’s ultimately too frightened to act decisively. She attempts to warn Catharine about her father’s true nature, whispering that his actions have “more to do with him. […] What he needs” (58). Her secret preparations for escape, including the hidden cash and documents, reveal a desperate yearning for freedom for both herself and her daughter. At the same time, her failure to leave underscores the immense psychological and physical barriers erected by her husband. Her death from a mysterious illness, untreated by modern medicine, represents the ultimate consequence of the father’s control and the farm’s isolation, leaving Catharine with a legacy of guilt and unanswered questions.

Stella is Catharine’s closest friend in her new life and serves as a foil to Catharine’s performative identity. Stella represents the kind of open, messy, and authentic life that Catharine pretends to have but can’t genuinely access. Stella is defined by her unfiltered honesty; she readily admits her insecurities and romantic failures, often opening conversations with “I’m a mess” (24). This contrasts sharply with Catharine’s guarded and carefully curated persona.

Stella’s primary role in the narrative is to highlight the theme of The Performance of Identity as a Survival Mechanism. Because she’s unaware of Catharine’s traumatic past, she unknowingly enables Catharine to maintain the elaborate lies about her childhood, her family, and her eating disorder. Stella accepts Catharine’s fabricated stories at face value, allowing Catharine to fill the role of the stable, sensible friend. Their friendship, while seemingly close, is built on a false foundation, illustrating the extreme isolation that results from Catharine’s inability to be her true self.