One for the Blackbird, One for the Crow

A recurring motif throughout the novel is that of binaries, explored often through two things that may look separate but are actually inextricably connected. Protagonists and antagonists, predator and prey, life and death, male and female: Throughout the novel, each of these common “opposites” are presented as inherently singular. The two farms that appear as one from a hilltop, the two-headed lamb and the coyote buried together, the two hearts in the wooden box Ernest carves for Cora, and the intertwined spring flowers on a handkerchief Cora sews for Nettie Mae reinforce a philosophy that nothing is independent. All life is connected, including the two families, despite their conflicts. 

Furthermore, in an era guided largely by patriarchal, Christian values, the common roles defined by the gender binary must be abandoned to survive. With both fathers gone, the female family members remaining must work together to provide, taking on more traditionally masculine tasks while guiding the remaining grown male, Clyde, toward a kinder, more traditionally feminine way of viewing the world. For example, Cora’s character arc revolves around breaking from a traditionally feminine role to take charge and protect her family. Meanwhile, Clyde’s arc involves stepping back from the patriarchal expectations as the new “head of the house,” recognizing the power of women around him and learning to be more empathetic, gentle, and sensitive. This reaffirms the idea of men and women as unified—not two distinct entities, but humans with shared qualities that each contribute toward a thriving community.

This belief extends to broader binaries, including life and death. Through its deep engagement with the natural world, the novel presents life and death not as a linear path but as an interconnected, cyclical process of transformation and renewal. This theme, largely articulated through the pantheistic perspective of Beulah Bemis, challenges a human-centric fear of mortality by framing decay and loss as necessary components of a unified, continuous existence. The narrative mirrors this worldview in its seasonal structure, reinforcing the idea that all life follows nature’s cyclical patterns. Beulah’s perspective provides the primary lens for this theme, as she consistently interprets the world as a web of interconnected life, death, and rebirth. Her reverence for seeds, for example, illustrates this view; she explains to Clyde that there is “a whole stalk inside every kernel” (44), articulating a vision of endless generational continuity contained within a single organism.

The novel contrasts the breakdown of traditional roles and the acceptance of natural cycles with the spiritual stagnation that comes from stubbornly clinging to social binaries. After his murder, Substance Webber’s spirit remains stuck at his grave, refusing to “unbecome” (112) and be reabsorbed into nature. A major source anchoring his spirit is a fear for his son, whom he believes is endangered due to his inability to act traditionally masculine. It’s only when he realizes that Clyde’s emotional journey has actually enabled him and the family to be safer and happier that he can move on. This conflict for Substance’s spirit inherently posits all binaries—from men and women to life and death—as similarly flawed, human ideologies that prevent people from engaging with the world in a more balanced, positive way.