Sunburn

“She took her eucharist before me, and I quietly apologised to Jesus for the downgrade from her tongue to mine. It was a feeling of deep shame which I still don’t understand. Martin was then the last thing on my mind. As was our kiss. As was marriage. My interest in that has never really resurfaced with the same fervour. Sometimes I wish it would.”

Lucy’s obsession with Susannah often takes on a religious tone, as seen in this passage when Lucy feels ashamed to follow Susannah during the eucharist. The kiss with Martin and marriage are more religious in nature, but Lucy’s focus quickly switches to Susannah, emphasizing how her attraction to Susannah is not “evil.” Though Lucy struggles with the idea of “sin,” the association of Susannah with religion indicates that loving Susannah is good. The contrast reframes LGBTQ+ love as pure and transcendent, challenging the morality that fuels Crossmore’s heteronormative expectations.

“I wish I had never noticed that we girls replace the women, that the boys seamlessly replace the men, and that we all follow a pattern. I ought to follow the pattern, to bask in all the wonderful security it provides. But then I see Catríona, disregarding patterns. Look what that has left her with: a buzzing social life, endless glamour. Something about it is sad to me. If not sad, then certainly scary.”

Lucy discovers the pattern of social conditioning regarding sex and gender in this passage, noticing how few people break the “pattern” of replacing their parents. Susannah’s mother breaks the pattern, as does Susannah, but their lives seem empty without the support of the community. This realization foreshadows Lucy’s later paralysis when faced with the choice between belonging to Crossmore’s social order and living openly with Susannah, showing how the desire for authenticity collides with the pull of conformity. This quote highlights the challenge of identity in small communities.

“It’s not that we are a mean group. In fact, I have always thought that we were exceptionally nice—but then, when girls as nice as Rita are afraid of us, it makes me wonder. I could say that it’s our loyalty to each other that makes us behave viciously, but sometimes I think we are just vicious. I’m glad to be in the group and not outside it.”

Lucy’s commentary on her friend group betrays the importance of sticking with the norm in order to avoid “vicious” attacks. The girls are pleasant to the people they accept, but they are cruel to those outside their group. Lucy is glad to be in the group, but this value on acceptance later contributes to her difficult decision. Her actions and identity are guided by the desire to remain in the group, often leading her to make decisions against her own interests.

“It’s all I can manage, because I really don’t know. Nobody has ever asked me so directly before, and I’m not sure how to skirt around this. I’m sure I like people, just not in the way that he means. I don’t like any of his friends, if that is what he’s asking. Of all people, I think he is the one I could talk to about this honestly and openly. And yet I don’t. What would I even say?”

Lucy’s developing sexuality is difficult for her to understand since she knows she should, in theory, be attracted to boys. However, her attraction to Susannah does not yet have a name in her mind, so she assumes it is not the same as “liking” someone in the teenage sense of the term. She cannot discuss it with Martin both because of this lack of terms and because she senses that she cannot share her sexuality with anyone in Crossmore without risking expulsion. This moment begins to engage with the novel’s theme of The Significance of Sexual Awakening.

“Remember that, left alone, Susannah would just be a piece of the earth. She cannot be held responsible for my reaction to her, for the scream of her sun-kissed skin against the blue bikini. Remember that, without the sweat on her sternum and the Autumn colour of her, in her most basic and fleshy form, she is only another piece of the earth, the same as me. We are all just pieces of the earth. I must take a breath.”

Lucy’s metaphor of “pieces of the earth” is critical to the novel’s overarching understanding of her sexuality as “natural.” By grounding her attraction in the language of nature, Lucy aligns her desire with something elemental and uncorrupted, countering the moral judgment of her environment. She does not have a choice in her attraction to Susannah, nor can she blame Susannah for being attractive. Though this metaphor removes agency from Lucy and Susannah at the same time, Lucy finds it comforting because it reassures her that she is not “evil.” This natural imagery is one of the novel’s most consistent strategies for framing LGBTQ+ love as inherent and irreproachable.

“I really do think that, in another life, Martin and I would be together. In every life but this one, we would probably be together. Absolutely, we would be, we are so alike. Even in this life, we should be together. He wants his girl next door. I want the girl in the big, echoing house on the other end of the village. She wants a normal life. We will all be disappointed in the end. The swans stare at me when I pass them by.”

Lucy frequently mentions the idea of “another life” in which she is not a lesbian, she is attracted to Martin, and they have a “normal” romance. The alternate-life fantasy reveals the lingering pressure of heteronormative scripts, showing how deeply Lucy has internalized the idea that her true desires lead to loss rather than fulfillment. However, she recognizes that she is not that other version of herself, and she feels like her situation is hopeless. Though the novel does lead to Martin, Lucy, and Susannah being disappointed for a time, Lucy’s idea of disappointment here is rooted in her lack of self-esteem, which causes her to think that she will never overcome her self-described cowardice.

“Every occurrence of my life only passed to lead me here, to this, and here it is, she is so close to me, this is no time to be afraid. God bless me if I am wrong. Suddenly, the worry goes. How could I be afraid? How could I be nervous with her? This is a moment of great peace, when, for the first time, I am not afraid of my feelings. I want her, I just want her, there isn’t anything sordid about it—actually, it’s the most beautiful feeling I’ve ever known.”

The release that Lucy feels from her anxiety is only the beginning of her comfort and acceptance within her relationship with Susannah. Susannah has the ability to make Lucy forget her concerns and focus on the moment, allowing Lucy to kiss Susannah in this passage. The momentous weight that Lucy places on this moment matches the scope of the romance in the novel, as Lucy will remain in love with Susannah forever.

“She puts her arms around me without hesitating, and because we are girls and we are blessed with an anticipated level of intimacy, I can do the same. Nobody notices as her hands fall on my back again, nobody cares how tightly I squeeze her. If even one of us was a boy, we couldn’t do this. It only lasts a second, because she must get on with her lovely day.”

Lucy’s acknowledgment of the different ways that boys and girls are treated in different contexts is critical to understanding why she and Susannah are as open as they are with their relationship. The safety of socially sanctioned girlhood intimacy creates cover for moments of genuine connection, masking romantic touch beneath the guise of platonic affection. They still hide their kisses, sex, and letters, but they are able to hug and hold hands at times since girls are assumed to be affectionate with each other. Boys, on the other hand, are not supposed to be affectionate with anyone, though affection between a boy and a girl is only superficially admonished, cementing the social acceptance of heteronormativity. This quote highlights the theme of Overcoming Obstacles in Forbidden Love.

“My parents don’t like to see people looking for equality, or for any change at all. They like the world as it was, not as it is becoming. If they could choose, Crossmore would revert to the way it was when they were my age. Instead, the country is changing, much slower than the rest of the world, but it is changing, and it is dragging Crossmore along with it. These pushes for equality have been uncomfortably received in my house.”

Lucy’s parents’ perspective is not unique, and many people are both opposed to change and social progress. This resistance to equality not only shapes Lucy’s environment but also frames being gay as a threat to the “world as it was,” reinforcing her sense that acceptance will never come from home. Critically, Lucy notes that Ireland is not changing as fast as “the rest of the world,” adding a layer of normalcy and disappointment to her perception of her parents. It would be abnormal for them to be accepting of others, but Lucy internalizes that bigotry within herself, deciding that she must then be “abnormal.”

“She sees me; I am hideous, and she lets a cold and heavy sigh out through her nose. And I swear I see her searching for the words she wants. But she doesn’t find them. She leaves me, she goes back to the sofa, where the television is playing on mute. I go back to bed hungry, and I hate the person that I am. Under my pillow is an old scrap of paper, where Susannah has scribbled,

I love you x

The thrill of it makes me cry, because I’m not allowed to love her back.”

When Lucy’s mother sees her, “hideous,” after catching her with Susannah, Lucy understands that her mother will never forget what she saw. After seeing Susannah’s letter, Lucy notes that she is “not allowed to love her back,” even though she has known that her relationship with Susannah needed to be a secret all along. The difference, now, is that Lucy’s mother will not allow Lucy to see Susannah at all, adding a restriction that did not formerly exist. This moment crystallizes Lucy’s shame and longing, with her mother’s sigh functioning as a silent judgment that cements the secrecy around her sexuality. The muted television mirrors Lucy’s own silenced voice, while the hidden note becomes a forbidden relic of authentic love that must be buried away.

“My love now seems to be an aggressive, political thing. It is the ceaseless search for an identity and then committing to that identity. It is a fight to exist in my own home. Is that not exhausting? Is it worth it? It feels like the good parts of loving have been thrown on the backseat and forgotten about. If I were another girl, in another house, this would not be a problem.”

Many marginalized communities note how their existence is deemed political by the current status quo, as well as the injustice of making people into political objects. Lucy’s fight to exist goes beyond her home, as anti-LGBTQ+ legislation and politics often argue that people like Lucy do not have a right to exist at all. Again, Lucy envisions a different version of herself who is not a lesbian, seeing how she could ignore all these issues if they did not apply to her.

“‘We could have had no dates. A few of us girls could have all gone as a group.’ As if. She is one of the most beautiful girls in the school, and so is Maria, and we are all very well-liked. It wouldn’t make any sense if we all went without dates. Nobody would believe it. Mother wouldn’t allow it, Eimear wouldn’t allow it, Bernadette wouldn’t allow it. There are more boys than girls our age. It would have left them without dates. These are the politics that I have decided to concern myself with. Sometimes it’s like she doesn’t care about the village at all.”

Susannah struggles to problem-solve for Lucy precisely because she “doesn’t care about the village at all,” as Lucy suspects. On the surface, Susannah’s plan seems fair, but Lucy quickly notes how all their friends are living the heteronormative life expected of Lucy and Susannah, so they are all excited to go to the Debs with boys. If Susannah or Lucy proposed going as a group, it would be suspicious and could potentially reveal their relationship. Susannah, in this passage, shows how she does not understand Lucy’s concerns. The idea of “politics” here is literal and social, revealing how conformity in small-town life operates as an unspoken governance. Susannah’s indifference to these rules underscores her outsider status, while Lucy’s attentiveness to them highlights her survival strategy within a tightly policed social order. This quote highlights the challenge of identity in small communities.

“‘Sure, what harm if he’s gay? It’s not like ye fancy him.’ Susannah starts. I don’t know why she is doing this. Yes, it’s in her character. We all know she is a liberal person from a liberal household, but this is unnecessary. All she is doing is making the girls admit they don’t like gay people. Why would she make me listen to that? ‘It’s just not nice, Susannah. Imagine someone was saying that about one of your brothers. It’s defamatory.’”

Susannah’s defense of the gay boy from Crossmore is brief, making Lucy question why she would argue it at all. Maria’s comment that calling someone “gay” is defamatory adds to the bigotry of the group. Maria’s use of “defamatory” frames being gay as a social stain, amplifying Lucy’s awareness of the hostility that surrounds her. However, Susannah’s purpose in asking the question is only to show Lucy that their friends are not worth keeping. In Susannah’s mind, if their friends would reject them for their sexuality, then it would be better to leave the group of their own volition first.

“And I see now why she has put up with all of this. It’s because we understand each other, it’s because we have this binding sort of love that is rare and good that we don’t get anywhere else. So rare and so good that I cannot even make sense of it, the same way that nobody can make real sense of God or the reasons why we are alive. I think that dancing with her tonight is the reason that I am alive. If it was the other way around, and Susannah was keeping me a secret, I would put up with it too.”

Lucy’s emphasis on how “good” her love with Susannah is, in her mind, justifies the delays in Lucy’s decision-making. Lucy realizes that she would wait for Susannah, too, if their roles were reversed, which is one of the few moments in which Lucy truly understands that Susannah loves her, too. However, the point is approaching when Lucy needs to choose, and she does not understand the importance of picking Susannah before it is too late, which is surprising considering her assertion that dancing with Susannah is “the reason that [she is] alive.” Lucy elevates her bond with Susannah to something sacred, likening it to divine mystery. The dance becomes a ritual affirmation of love but also blinds Lucy to the urgency of openly claiming that love before circumstances force it away.

“‘There are so many people in the real world, Lucy. Not everybody is your mother. Not everybody wants to get married off and live on a farm. People would love you the way you are, we just need to find those people.’ That is all true. It’s so sweet, and so exciting, but I cannot pretend that to gain all that acceptance I wouldn’t lose all that I have now.”

This passage encapsulates the miscommunication between Susannah and Lucy since Susannah assumes that Lucy is afraid of being alone. However, Lucy’s real fear is only that she will lose her friends and family, whom she sees as a vital part of her identity. Since Susannah does not feel this way, she sees the Crossmore community as just a random group of people, which she can easily find in other places at other times.

“‘Sure, is it any surprise? She was never a mother to those children. It’s no wonder they ended up the way they did.’ It’s hard to disagree with that. I don’t want to stand up for Catríona, but I don’t want Mother talking about her either. It seems that she is taking genuine pleasure in Susannah’s desertion. For all the hateful things that Mother has done, this is the first time I have truly felt hate for her.”

Lucy’s mother’s comment is loaded since she is criticizing Susannah’s mother, her brothers, and Susannah herself. Lucy knows that Susannah’s family life is difficult, but the critical element of this passage is how insulting Susannah’s family makes Lucy feel genuine hatred for her mother, who is one of the few reasons why Lucy cannot confess her love. The hatred that Lucy’s mother feels is implicitly also directed at Lucy, and her reaction in this passage indicates that she knows her mother’s true feelings. This marks a rupture in Lucy’s familial loyalty, where her mother’s cruelty toward Susannah’s family mirrors the judgment that Lucy fears for herself. Her hatred here is not just for the comment but for the underlying truth it reveals about her mother’s values.

“The girls who raised me, and whom I raised. After everything, they would not hesitate to disappear. Even with the soil that we grew from still under our fingernails and the same wind burning our cheeks, they would not wait a heartbeat. They would just go, and with them, my soul would go too. It’s overwhelming. Susannah pushes me so gently I could fall to my death. I wish I would.”

Though this passage seems to emphasize how thin Lucy’s connection is to the girls and how strong her connection is with Susannah, it actually illustrates why Lucy is unwilling to make her decision. She knows that the girls will abandon her if she chooses Susannah, but she does not truly believe that Susannah will leave if Lucy delays choosing her. As a result, Lucy feels that she can continuously delay her decision without risking Susannah’s displeasure. The shared imagery of soil and wind evokes deep-rooted bonds but also the inevitability of change. Susannah’s “push” becomes symbolic of the risk inherent in choosing love over belonging.

“It seemed then that having sex with him would be easier than marrying him. Now I’m not sure. It isn’t anything like the sex I’ve had before. That’s not a bad thing, it’s just not as enjoyable. It’s more like a favour that I don’t really mind doing for him. It’s complicated. I don’t like it, but it does make me feel close to him.”

Lucy’s description of having sex with Martin is challenging since she assures the reader that it is “not a bad thing” that she is having sex with him, but she frames the sex as “a favour,” something impersonal that she does for his benefit. As with Lucy’s other efforts to “feel close to him,” having sex with Martin is dishonest, both to him and to herself. As such, Lucy’s decision to have an affair with Geraldine is not surprising, but it adds to the moral weight that Lucy feels going into the conclusion of the text.

“I want the life I have with Martin, but with her. When I was younger, I could never understand how Mother was happy, but suddenly, I understand it. I want the reward of making us a home. I want us to be a family, in a place that we love with people that we love. The domesticity that once seemed like a prison is now a bliss to aspire to.”

Lucy admits here that she is unhappy with Martin. She is currently living the life she feared, which is a repeat of her mother’s life. However, she envisions how her life could remain the same, yet she could be with Susannah, and she would no longer mind these things. In fact, she describes this domestic life as “a bliss to aspire to,” highlighting how Lucy’s love for Susannah erases all the bad things in her life, even if only while Susannah is present. This is Lucy’s clearest articulation of her desire to merge love and domesticity, revealing that her longing is not for escape from structure but for the right partner within it.

“It’s been so long since I heard from any of them, probably because, after you left, I told Maria I liked a girl. Not you, just a girl. She was so nice about it, but I could tell I freaked her out. I think she wanted to be okay with it, but she just wasn’t. I remember all I wanted was to talk to you about it, but I couldn’t, because you were gone. Isn’t it funny that ye were my whole world, and now we struggle to even speak to each other?”

The irony of Susannah’s final line is that she and Lucy are writing an enormous number of letters to each other, with Lucy reporting that Susannah seems to write at least one letter each day. In reality, Susannah and Lucy do not “struggle” to speak to each other, but they do struggle to speak openly and honestly. Susannah deciding to end her friendship with Maria over her bigotry is a major development in their Crossmore lives, but she hesitates to tell Lucy because she knows their shared secret getting out is Lucy’s biggest fear. The tension between the claim of “struggle” and the reality of constant letter writing points to the emotional distance masked by physical communication. It also captures how fear of exposure still governs Lucy’s openness, even with Susannah.

“Regardless of what nasty comments the girls might have made about me in Crossmore, he loves me, and although he is trying, looking at me now, he can’t find a reason to stop. I have hypnotised this man into submission. I hope I have not damaged his confidence; I hope it is just love, and he isn’t as afraid to leave as I have been. Like always, I am sick with guilt. Pulling me near him, he kisses my head and tells me softly about everyone at home. It’s like he never left. If I close my eyes now, I might never open them again. I close them.”

Lucy struggles to understand herself in different contexts, which is best shown in this passage. Without Martin, Lucy readily decides to leave him for Susannah, but when he returns, she quickly falls back into the complacency of Crossmore, marriage, and heteronormative life. Though she is “sick with guilt,” she does not see a way out of her predicament without sacrificing either her true identity or Martin’s love. The act of closing her eyes is a retreat into denial, a willful blindness that allows Lucy to momentarily avoid the cost of authenticity.

“‘It’s alright.’ Already my ache is eased, I can breathe; he is saving me from himself. I never loved a man more. We have become emotional people. ‘I’m really sorry, Martin.’ ’I know.’ ’For everything. I wish it was different, I wish I was different.’ There is a soft silence. I feel his heart breaking, I feel him thinking, and he hugs me tighter. ‘I don’t. Then you wouldn’t be my Lucy.’”

Though Martin’s reaction comes as a shock to Lucy, his reaction is consistent with his character. At first, he fears that the girls were laughing at him, but when this fear is quelled, he adjusts, accepting Lucy for who she is, just as he has done across the novel. His acceptance is also well phrased, as he does not accept Lucy despite her sexuality but including it, showing that he understands how critical this element of Lucy is to her identity. Martin’s acceptance reframes Lucy’s self-perceived flaw as integral to her identity. His phrasing acknowledges that love can encompass, rather than erase, difference.

“Crossmore is as it always was: a wild and overgrown place where hearts swell and burst the most violently. We feel deeply here. No matter how far I go, I am soaked from the earth and dusted from the pollen, and I will always carry these deep feelings. So will Martin, so will Susannah, so will the others. And although we go far to escape them, at one time or another, we must return to Crossmore. To the roots of ourselves.”

The struggle of Lucy’s identity formation in Crossmore is a bittersweet story since she loves and appreciates her hometown for what it is, even when it cannot provide everything she needs. The imagery of dust, pollen, and roots frames the town as a natural place to begin a life, even as Lucy returns to confront these roots and demand a change. The “roots” are only the norms and values of a small town, and though they are potent, they cannot be allowed to hold her back. Nature imagery here symbolizes the inescapable imprint of one’s origin. The “roots” are both grounding and constricting, tying identity to place even when growth demands departure.