The bronze statue of Lilith at the British Museum functions as a symbol of female defiance and the cost of suppressing it. Introduced during an exhibition on the theme of female rage, the sculpture depicts the mythological first wife of Adam, banished from Eden. The curator frames Lilith's exile as punishment for refusing to submit to patriarchal authority, observing “her only crime seems to have been disobedience to a man” (205). This description mirrors the predicament of several female characters in the novel. The discrediting of Fliss and her subsequent ostracization after accusing Jarvis of rape provides the ultimate example of how women are punished when they threaten established patriarchal hierarchies. Lilith’s story crystallizes the dynamics of a world that treats female autonomy as a threat to be neutralized.

Serena responds to the statue by imagining "being brave enough to flee the Garden of Eden, screaming with great righteousness into the night sky" (207). The fantasy reveals the distance between her role as a compliant, supportive wife and the person she longs to become, underscoring her sacrifice of agency in exchange for social status. When she witnesses the Oblivion Oil protesters coat the statue in orange paint, the act echoes the impact of patriarchal authority on Serena: It has contained her, obscured her true nature, and defined her power as purely decorative. Serena's concluding admission that she “can never be Lilith” and “is fated always to be Eve” underscores the theme of Hiding the Authentic Self With a Public-Facing Persona (213). While she recognizes her own entrapment in a performative role, she lacks the courage to break free.

The motif of Oblivion Oil exposes the contradictions within both activist idealism and elite self-protection, connecting the novel's exploration of performed identity to The Corrupting Nature of Wealth and Status. The environmental protest group is a space where Cosima attempts to shed her Fitzmaurice inheritance and define herself by her convictions rather than lineage. Her codename, Pineapple, the group's rituals of trust, and its collective anonymity offer her a sense of belonging she has not experienced within her own family. Yet her membership of Oblivion Oil also involves deception, since her participation depends on concealing her wealth and privilege from the rest of the group.

The purity of Oblivion Oil’s ideals is further undermined by the revelation that its charismatic leader, River, is an undercover police officer. His presence shows that the state monitors political rebellion and dissent with the same institutional machinery the Fitzmaurices use to suppress inconvenient truths. Although River tells Cosima he loved the group members “in my way” and “believed in what we were doing” (149), his deception dissolves the boundary between genuine solidarity and strategic performance. His dual identity parallels Cosima's own. While her activism is sincere, it is also inextricably linked to a private vendetta against her father, whose role as the government’s Energy Secretary exemplifies his hypocrisy. Both Cosima’s and River’s actions demonstrate how hidden private agendas can corrupt the most well-intentioned moral objectives.