Shred Sisters

While the Shred sisters do not have much in common, it eventually becomes clear that they are both adept at acting. For Ollie, this kind of artifice serves to mask her mental illness; it is as much a coping skill as it is a defense mechanism. For Amy, acting is a way to gain acceptance (or, at least, avoid unwanted attention) as well as a way to try on different identities; it is as if she is auditioning to find the right part, her genuine self. The novel thus suggests that it is often easier, and less painful, to present a false face to the world rather than risk vulnerability and reproach by revealing one’s authentic self. Nevertheless, it is only in understanding the self that each sister reclaims her agency.

When Ollie is first hospitalized, neither she nor the family is ready to confront the reality of her situation. Though honesty is rewarded in the hospital—“you received a chorus of snaps for one thing alone: being authentic” (54)—the fact of Ollie’s mental illness feels as vague as the nickname for the ward where she is held (“The Place”), at least to the family and certainly to Ollie. When she is finally released, for example, Ollie emphatically thanks everyone for helping her. However, Amy denies that this represents a genuine acknowledgment of the situation: “[I]t was the performance of a lifetime” (71). Encouraged by a family that keeps quiet about their “suspicions,” Ollie copes by affecting the assumed identity of someone in recovery instead of working to understand her real one.

Later, when Ollie leaves the family home, she makes her living mostly through theft, causing a disturbance on the occasions when she is caught: “She had learned well that acting crazy was the equivalent of a Get Out of Jail Free card” (93). Ironically, the identity that Ollie here assumes closely parallels her actual circumstances; she does, in fact, have a mental illness. However, rather than engage in introspection about this reality, Ollie instead weaponizes it in a way that implicitly denies its basis in fact. The imperative behind this remains the same as it was when Ollie left the hospital: Ollie must act in order to survive, or so she believes. 

Amy engages in a similar kind of artifice that is no less real for being much subtler, as when she walks into a salon one afternoon: “Two hours later I left the salon with auburn hair and a bob with bangs. Walking down the street, I couldn’t stop glancing at myself in the storefront windows, happily surprised each time I peeked” (126). Coming on the heels of a therapist’s appointment—an opportunity to engage genuinely with the question of who she is—Amy’s actions imply that changing one’s superficial appearance is much easier than grappling with the challenging issue of what constitutes the individual self. The former is also less productive: While Amy is delighted by the external changes, they do not transform her life, and she will spend many more years trying to find her own way.

This, at least in part, is what dooms her brief marriage to Marc. Even before they are married, Amy fears that “the real [her] would emerge, a friendless girl who concocted Cobbler and Tupperware games to play alone” (154). She even asks her therapist, querulously, “Am I supposed to accept who I am or change who I am?” (154). If Amy does not even know who she is—or who she “should” be, if she is to be happy—she cannot commit herself to an honest relationship with someone else. Indeed, as Amy admits after they are married, “Sometimes it felt as if Marc and I were playing one of my make-believe games from childhood; I could have called it Grown-ups” (175). The relationship is performative rather than authentic because Amy has not yet found herself fully enough to invest in genuine connection.

Eventually, however, both sisters find their way to a more authentic version of their characters. For Ollie, it is when she decides not only to bear a child but also to raise it, taking medication in order to maintain her mental health. Ollie becomes part of a family of her own making, taking control of her illness and her life. In contrast, but with similar results, Amy embraces autonomy, breaking not only from her husband (and subsequent lovers) but also from her long-time therapist. They both become active participants, rather than actors, in their own lives.