Abigail, the oldest Flynn sister and another point-of-view character, initially defines herself by her looks; she presents herself as a pouty representative of modern female beauty standards, and even her own father congratulates himself on his role in creating such an attractive girl. Abigail’s first “boyfriend” was an art teacher at her high school, a relationship that goes uninvestigated by the text other than to say that he was fired after an angry PTA meeting. While Abigail sees no problem with her attraction to older men (or their attraction to her), the novel implies that she is not as in control of these relationships as she believes; rather, she is a girl who’s been forced to grow up too quickly due to American society’s Latent Misogyny and the Sexualization of Minors, and she has responded by aggressively embracing her sexual appeal.

Abigail’s other defining trait is her rebelliousness. She judges Catherine for having given up all her aspirations to be an artist and settled for her “small” life in a tiny town. In her contempt, she blatantly ignores her mother and does as she wishes, another example of Adolescent Agency Under Institutional and Parental Failure. However, there is an undercurrent of irony to Abigail’s rejection of both her mother and convention. Abigail models her own physical goals after her beautiful mother even as she vows that she will never become like Catherine. More than this, Abigail checks on her sleeping sisters, making sure that they are safe and well; she checks on Bud, too, though she is angry at him for what’s happened to their family. These actions function as indirect characterization, suggesting that Abigail is not as reckless and self-indulgent as she appears.

Abigail is a dynamic character whose turning point comes when she realizes the danger she’s in at Alabaster Manor without Wes. She thinks, “How could [she] have been so foolish? Was that all she was? A beautiful little fool?” (274). Here, she realizes how easily men in society can and will prey on her as a result of her beauty. Her attitude toward her mother shifts as well. In the end, she sees Catherine married to Bud and conducting an extramarital relationship with a woman and realizes that Catherine is willing to deviate from social norms to chase her own happiness after all. This changes her perspective on Catherine completely, and she no longer pities her mother: “She was struck […] with the realization that her mother hadn’t failed, hadn’t given up on her dreams of being an artist […], of leaving the town for a bigger life. She’d stayed for her—Abigail, and […] her sisters […]. She had as big a life as any” (304). This more nuanced understanding of how people negotiate their dreams and responsibilities is a big step in Abigail’s development of empathy toward her parents and her transition to adulthood.

Louise is another point-of-view character. Described by the narrator as the “quintessential” middle child, she desperately wants to be noticed, understood, and valued by someone. Her first appearance in the text establishes the dynamics underpinning this motivation: When she approaches the van to take her father’s keys at her mother’s instruction, Bud fails to notice her presence and then briefly forgets her name. She is forgettable compared to Abigail and Harper, both of whom garner a great deal more attention from their parents and other adults; in comparison to Abigail’s beauty, Harper’s intelligence, and both of their rule-breaking, Louise feels that the only characteristic that makes her stand out is her speech impediment.

Louise is a static character, relatively unchanged by the events of the text. After she’s ejected from the Inner Beauty Pageant, her internet “boyfriend”—who is clearly a terrorist—coaches her to make a bomb that she can use to blow up the church pageant. She seems so wrapped up in pleasing yourstruly that she neglects to consider the lives that would be lost if she deployed such a device. Louise is desperate for attention and love, and this clouds her judgment. When Louise meets Caleb, a Jewish boy from another school, his interest in her immediately compels her to abandon her pursuit of Islam and embrace Judaism, underscoring that she is willing to adopt any system of belief that gets her a boyfriend: “What Louise Flynn wanted more than God, more than heaven or hell or seventy-two virgins, more than a higher power or a lower power or retribution for the wicked and redemption for the pure, was, plain and simple, a boyfriend” (307-08). This desire indicates her immaturity and her need to develop a real identity of her own. Her parents’ absorption in their own lives has previously thwarted this, but the novel’s hopeful conclusion, which sees the family coming together to celebrate Harper’s birthday, implies that Louise will receive more support going forward.

Bud, the husband of Catherine and the father of Harper, Abigail, and Louise, is another point-of-view character. His perspective is key to the theme of Open Marriage as Liberation and Engine of Domestic Collapse, as Bud’s reflections make it clear that he never agreed to the “arrangement” or thought that it was a good way to repair his relationship with Catherine. He resents her for “dismantling” their lives, as he puts it, though it’s clear that their relationship was deeply unhealthy and unsatisfying for both partners before; for instance, when he initiates a relationship with Miss Winkle, Catherine’s ire and disbelief demonstrate her resentment that he has found the emotional fulfillment she intended only for herself.

Bud is a complex and dynamic character who initially appears apathetic and ineffectual. His desire for gratitude, from everyone from his daughters to his sexual partners, indicates how little valued he feels in his life. His suicidal ideation seems borne of an attempt to control (and ultimately escape) his environment, something he cannot do because the Flynns lack the funds for a second home in which Bud could live apart from Catherine. His misery is implied to stem not merely from his situation but from a sense that it emasculates him, and his sexualization of Abigail and the Albanian girls reveals his latent misogyny. Nevertheless, he deeply loves his daughters, a fact that becomes clear when Abigail’s safety is threatened by Alabaster.

Bud’s successful relationship with Priscilla Winkle satisfies the emotional needs that were not being met by his wife, and this enables him to approach his wife with more patience and appreciation. After his daughters uncover Alabaster’s child-trafficking operation, he is able to recognize some of Catherine’s laudable qualities and even draw inspiration from them. When she tries to comfort him, telling him not to blame himself for everything that happened with Alabaster Harbor and the trafficked girls, “Bud appreciate[s] her effort. He gather[s] himself, summon[s] that inner reserve of strength like Catherine always [does], and [begins] to pull on his jacket” (293-94). Newly visible and appreciated in his relationship with Miss Winkle, he is less interested in placing blame and more interested in simply being happy.

Catherine is another point-of-view character. She is Bud’s wife and Harper, Abigail, and Louise’s mother, but when the novel begins, Catherine is largely self-involved. She is so absorbed by her own marital problems as well as the possibilities attending the “arrangement”—her solution to her lack of emotional fulfillment—that she all but ignores her three adolescent daughters, all of whom are engaged in questionable and potentially dangerous activities. Though Catherine tells Abigail that she cannot go to see Wes, she makes no effort to stop her daughter when she leaves anyway, suggesting that she is merely going through the motions of motherhood.

In the aftermath of Alabaster’s party, the realization of how close Abigail came to something even worse forces Catherine to once again pay attention to her children and the emotional needs of her husband. When Bud blames himself for not pressing the issue of the strange cargo container, “Catherine place[s] a hand softly on his shoulder” and urges him not to “blame [him]self” (293). This move to comfort him presents a new side of Catherine that is compassionate and engaged. One of Catherine’s final appearances in the novel affirms the change by mirroring the earlier scene in which Abigail announces her intention to go out with Wes. The next time Abigail sticks her head in the bathroom when Catherine is in the tub, Catherine says, “Now […]. Tell me about this boy’” (304). This curiosity about her daughters’ lives and her resumption of some responsibility for them proves Catherine’s dynamism.