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Content Warning: This section of the guide contains descriptions of graphic violence, physical and emotional abuse, bullying, sexual violence and harassment, death by suicide, illness and death, disordered eating, and sexual content.
In The Girl You Left Behind, Jojo Moyes explores how individuals’ acts are often morally ambiguous and easily misinterpreted. The novel challenges simplistic notions of right and wrong by showing how the lines between heroism and betrayal are blurred in extreme circumstances. By sharing her protagonists’ reasoning and motivations with the reader, Moyes shows how actions that could be perceived as betrayals—and that are seen this way by others—are in fact acts of loyalty, love, and courage.
The most significant example of this theme is Sophie’s decision to have sex with the Kommandant in exchange for Édouard’s freedom. Her story reveals how times of acute crisis, such as wartime, can force individuals to make impossible decisions, in which there is no “right” decision. The novel shows that Sophie acknowledges this to herself as she deliberates, afraid that Édouard will see her action as straightforward infidelity rather than a sacrifice to save his life. The fear of judgment is borne out when the town views her visit to the Kommandant to be collaboration. The public judgment is swift and brutal, culminating in her own brother’s furious accusation, “I know what you did with the German!” (120). By monogamous moral codes, Sophie has indeed transgressed: she has slept with a man outside her marriage, offering sexual favors to the Kommandant in return for his personal support. From the outside, this is the definition of infidelity and collaboration. Internally, Sophie’s serious deliberation and pure motivation reveals her action to be one of love and loyalty. Her self-sacrifice results in the destruction of her reputation and her imprisonment, but is ultimately rewarded by her happy ending with Édouard in Switzerland and the posthumous rehabilitation of her character, showing her actions to be vindicated by the novel’s narrative arc.
In the novel’s modern narrative, Liv faces a different form of crisis, parallel to Sophie’s in that it centers on love and loyalty for her absent husband. To fund the legal battle for the painting, a symbol of her love for her deceased husband, Liv must consider selling the house he built, which she also views as his legacy. Either choice feels like a betrayal of David’s memory, trapping her in a no-win situation where her love and grief compel her toward a decision that is inherently a sacrifice. Liv’s motivations and intentions are also publicly misunderstood, making her an object of hostility.
By interlinking her heroines with this theme, Moyes uses the novel’s parallel narratives to explore choices made in crises. Her narrative shows that they occupy a morally ambiguous space, turning on the knowledge of motive and precise circumstances.
The novel’s plot centers around a painting at different points in time to demonstrate art’s capacity to promote empathy and reconciliation in the face of war, loss, and historical erasure. Although the painting becomes the subject of a conflict in Liv’s narrative, it enriches the characters it touches, especially their abilities to empathize with others and to reach a place of emotional resolution. In the narrative arc, the legal battle around its ownership enables the novel’s ending of peaceful resolution and human connection sustained across time. The portrait actively shapes the lives of those who possess it, forcing them to confront unresolved emotions and ethical questions.
From its outset, the novel shows art to be a force for joy, consolation, and connection. The portrait is a vital anchor for Sophie’s identity. Amidst the degradation and fear of war, the painting acts as an icon to remind her of the woman she was and the love she shared with Édouard. Sophie’s flashbacks, her memories of their artistic life in Paris, become a comfort to her, the vibrancy and beauty of that time sustaining her hope and resilience. The painting also has a profound effect on the Kommandant, for whom it represents a lost world of culture and humanity, standing in stark contrast to the brutality of his duties. The Kommandant and Sophie are drawn together by wider discussions of art and his artistic sensibility becomes a sign to Sophie that she can trust him: He is “something of a gentleman” not just a “beast, a Boche” (54). The novel uses art as force for shared humanity, so strong that it crosses enemy lines and dissolves mutual prejudice.
A century later, the painting has a similar iconic role for Liv Halston. The novel shows that the painting—and the woman portrayed in it—connects to Liv beyond being a memento of David. Liv says that “there was something in her expression […] like a reminder that I would survive” (189). Though Liv does not yet know Sophie’s name or story, her painting communicates Sophie’s fight for love, hope and human connection. The painting, and art more widely, is a deeply connective force for all of the major relationships in the novel: Sophie and Edouard; Sophie and the Kommandant; Liv and Sophie; Liv and David; and Liv and Paul. Through each of these characters’ dynamic arcs of emotional and ethical growth, Moyes suggests that those who embrace artistic sensibilities have a more subtle grasp of life’s complexities, more able to empathize, review their judgments and develop deep connections.
The legal battle over the painting’s ownership transforms the artwork into a totemic object, crystalizing the book’s tensions around how memory and history deserve to be honored. Through this conflict, Moyes illustrates that art is an active force in life, capable of carrying personal and collective connections into the present and enabling a newfound understanding with the past. The novel’s final revelation of the painting’s true provenance resolves both Liv’s and Sophie’s strands simultaneously, reconciling the open conflicts in both their stories and also uniting them in a single conclusion. When the picture is given to the Kommandant in the end as the seal of a promise made and kept, the painting becomes an icon of art’s power for empathy and resolution.
The Girl You Left Behind centers around the pursuit of truth and justice across time. Key to its plotting of both protagonist narratives, this theme also explores the nature of truth and justice, and whose right it is to decide. The novel’s use of art restitution is central to this theme, as it deliberately investigates the ethics of this movement’s role as retrospective justice. This treatment is characteristic of the novel’s continual avoidance of right and wrong binaries, instead engaging in the ambiguities of complex moral dilemmas.
The Girl You Left Behind critiques the destructive nature of public judgments on truth and justice, especially when moral frameworks are too simplistic, self-interested, or based on superficial appearances and incomplete information. Through its intimate, first-person protagonist perspectives, the novel emphasizes the profound and often tragic gap between private motivations and public perception, and the fragility of a person’s reputation. Both Sophie and Liv suffer acutely from this, and the novel critiques the arrogance and inhumanity in systems that can cause this suffering: the legal system, art restitution practice, and public slander and vilification.
In the wartime narrative, the stories of both Sophie Lefèvre and Liliane Béthune ask these moral questions, showing how the court of public opinion can be perfunctory, merciless, and tragically wrong. Perceiving Sophie’s interactions with the Kommandant, her community sees only collaboration, disregarding the deeper truths they know about her character and likely motivation. The public vilification and shaming of Liliane as collaborator comes before her role in the resistance is widely known and she is, overnight, considered a heroine. The novel exposes the hypocrisy of the townspeople as well as the arrogant danger of passing judgement. Nearly a century later, Liv faces a modern version of the same injustice. Her legal fight to keep the portrait of Sophie is framed by the media and the Lefèvre family’s lawyers as an act of greed. This public narrative completely ignores what is known about Liv, David, and the painting’s provenance, assuming Liv’s guilt. Like Sophie and Liliane, Liv’s private truth is rendered invisible by a public more interested in a simple, damning story. Liv’s decision to burn papers containing the town’s accusations against Sophie is an act of defiance, as she deliberately erases the record of false public judgment to protect Sophie’s reputation. As Liv does this against her own legal and financial interests, her action speaks of strong moral fortitude. Her faith in Sophie is also vindicated by the new “truth” at the novel’s end: evidence of Sophie’s fidelity.
In its juxtaposition of two ethical spheres—the inner moral compass and external moral frameworks—the novel suggests that binary judgements can be harmful, obscuring the complex truths of individual lives.



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