“From the top of the ridge, where Stafford’s house stood, the views west toward the islands of Molokai and Lanai were, he felt, more manageable in the early-morning light, the great shimmering mass of water that filled the horizon somehow easier on the eye. There were hidden and unseen swells that moved beneath the surface of the water, but from the top of Stafford’s hillside, when the light was soft, there was no sign of movement.”

Through precise adjectives like “shimmering” and “manageable,” Finn uses diction to establish both the idyllic setting of Stafford’s retirement and his initial emotional distance from the natural beauty surrounding him. In addition, the ominous description of the “hidden and unseen swells” speaks to the protagonist’s fear of water, foreshadowing when Agnes saves him from drowning as well as the revelation that he nearly drowned on the night of Bobby’s death.

“‘We are lost people, both of us lost,’ he said to his wife at the start of their exile. ‘And the best place to be lost is paradise.’ ‘Oh, for Jesus’ sakes, Stafford,’ she said. ‘Get a fricking hobby.’”

The excerpt demonstrates the novel’s signature dry, dark humor through the contrast between Stafford’s elevated, elegiac language and Agnes’s terse tone. Stafford’s claim that he and his wife are both “lost people” hints at their respective traumas, while her coarse retort comically points out The Limits of Intellectualizing Grief.

“She was too easily wounded by uncertainty, and whenever happiness arrived or left, it did so like a great slam of a door, and he would see her face change from the girl he loved to a woman he feared.”

The simile comparing Agnes’s mood shifts to “a great slam of a door” signals that Stafford is startled by the changes in his wife and doesn’t understand their cause. The parallel structure of the noun phrases “the girl he loved” and “a woman he feared” adds to the contrast between the two sides of Agnes that Stafford perceives and emphasizes that they’ve grown apart.

“It was the last full summer before Stafford’s father died, and there was the smell of the hay and the mosquitoes and Bobby’s old dog, Skidder. There was the drumming of the big trucks on their way east from Toronto and the singing of the night trains on the tracks that followed the highway between the town and the farms, trains that lit up the fairways of the Napanee Nine with their solitary beams of light.”

This passage offers olfactory imagery (“the smell of the hay and the mosquitoes and Bobby’s old dog”), auditory imagery (“the drumming of the big trucks […] and the singing of the night trains”), and visual imagery (“solitary beams of light”). The first sentence casts a shadow of irony over the young Stafford’s joy and frames the vivid sensory details that follow as his attempt to cling to his cherished memories from a time before tragedy struck his family.

“No, he was not at the club. No, they had not seen him. No, his car was still there. Would she care for a glass of water? No? She should have a nice day then. Have a great day, Mrs. Hopkins! An awesome day. A spectacular day.”

Finn’s use of repetition in this passage creates humor while also building an atmosphere of unease. The repeated “No” in answer to Agnes’s questions about Stafford indicate that she’s asked several people about his whereabouts without success. Meanwhile, the polite responses expected from the hospitality workers create irony. As her fear for her husband grows, their polite wishes, which escalate from wishing her to have a “nice day” to a “spectacular day,” become increasingly unlikely.

“But the current would not let him go and he could not stand the vision of his body caught in its grip like a morsel of food.”

The simile likening Stafford to “a morsel of food” depicts the ocean as a ravenous creature seeking to devour him. This figurative language adds to the suspense by emphasizing the helplessness of his situation.

“She would be patient with him, because he had been so upset about the letter and the children and God knows what else and there was no point in upsetting him further.”

The author’s use of polysyndeton underlines Stafford’s distress. The phrase “God knows what else” illustrates how the narrator’s voice is influenced by the different point-of-view characters and offers a reminder that Agnes, like the reader, does not yet know what happened to Bobby.

“The china was perfect, the silver gleamed, and the antique Danish frosted-crystal water goblets were just plain fabulous. Candles ran down the center of the table, each in a tiny dish spun from liquid glass by an artist in Los Angeles whose work was attracting some of the best shoppers in the city.”

The effusive description of the table setting for Agnes’s dinner party and the observation about “the best shoppers” critique performative consumerism and offer an example of the constant minutia involved in maintaining the appearances that her social station demands. As the novel continues, Finn reveals that Agnes’s obsession with wealth is a response to her traumatic childhood, and she finds more authentic connections.

“Everyone knew which fork to use and what to say when Buzz and Patti boasted about their grandson’s recent marriage to the daughter of a well-connected senator who had taken a tough stand on drugs. Everyone knew that if Jim and Cheryl wanted to talk about their drug-addicted son, they would bring it up.”

The repetition of “Everyone knew” employs anaphora to call attention to the unwritten rules that govern the elite guests’ behavior. The characters’ unspoken critiques of one another demonstrate the hollowness of Stafford and Agnes’s relationships at the start of the novel, which contrasts with the close family they build by the end.

“But in the summer, when the ice melts and the snow is gone, it is a wonderful place, and the green water that emerges from beneath the frozen lakes and rivers is like new grass growing in an open field.”

The simile comparing the “green water” to “new grass growing in an open field” creates a sense of joy and rebirth. This peaceful, lovingly detailed description of the natural beauty of the place where the protagonist grew up contrasts with the fraught personal history that drove him to stay away for decades.

“Ants would become sharks and the slow truck lumbering past on the road would become a whale and the tractor in the distance, a pirate ship heading their way. And when the storm had passed and the pirates all killed and captured, and their own boat wrecked upon the shores of a distant island, Bobby and Stafford would stretch out on the ground and lay their faces against the earth, turning over only to watch a sky that changed with each blink of their eyes.”

The first sentence captures how Bobby and Stafford’s youthful imaginations transformed an ordinary scene into an adventure. The excerpt reveals the strength of the friends’ bond and the ways that they nurtured each other’s sense of wonder and belonging. The novel’s closing passage paraphrases this excerpt, reinforcing Bobby’s formative impact on Stafford’s life.

“‘Yes,’ he tried to say, but his voice was so cracked with the coughing and the sore throat and the lack of sleep that he sounded like a gate pushed open against its will. ‘Yes,’ he said again.”

This excerpt describes Stafford’s ailing voice with onomatopoeia (“cracked”) and a simile (“a gate pushed open against its will”). The combination underscores how quickly Stafford falls ill.

“Stafford knew these were code words and he dreaded hearing them, knowing that Emmett’s away times were events he was not supposed to acknowledge. He was to pretend that they weren’t happening at all, that he hadn’t noticed any trouble between his parents or the absence of a brother. He was to do his homework on time and be quick about taking his dish to the sink when supper was done. He was to get the eggs from the henhouse without anyone reminding him about it.”

The repetition of “He was to” uses anaphora to underscore the cognitive dissonance of a child navigating family tensions while not being allowed to “acknowledge” the source of this friction. These early negative experiences explain Stafford’s reluctance to embrace The Importance of Facing the Past.

“‘Mister, I’m just the caretaker here.’

‘And when he couldn’t find us, he came looking for us. And he found us.’

‘Oh boy.’

‘He didn’t say anything. He just looked at me and—’

‘What?’

‘He started to cry. And then he left.’”

This scene uses short sentences of dialogue uninterrupted by narration to rapidly move back and forth between Stafford and the caretaker. The caretaker’s growing alarm and Stafford’s decision to reveal his darkest secret to a stranger add to the tension of the revelation that Stafford feels responsible for Bobby’s death. The protagonist’s confession marks a key moment for the theme of The Importance of Facing the Past.

“Roger was a determined man, no less determined than Donny Shepherd who suggested they name Stafford Hopkins as interim guardian in the interim document that would serve as the Shepherds’ will in the unlikely event and so forth.”

The passage’s usage of legal jargon adds a touch of dark humor because it’s steeped in dramatic irony: The reader already knows that the “unlikely event” of the couple’s death has already occurred.

“Later Stafford would claim that the only thing he really remembered was the noise. There was the screaming, of course, the unrelenting wail from poor Lucy, who lay on her back kicking the floor. Andy, no less distraught, shouting at her to stop, begging her to get up.”

Finn uses auditory imagery to capture Stafford’s first meeting with the Shepherd children. Lucy and Andy’s “screaming,” “shouting,” and “begging” create a chaotic mood that highlights Bobby’s quiet self-possession and insightfulness.

“A silence. And Roger Nuland, smiling. Check, Mr. Hopkins. Checkmate.”

Throughout the chapter, the author uses chess terminology to portray the back-and-forth between the Shepherds’ lawyer and Stafford as a game of strategy to show how Stafford tries to get out of the arrangement. Roger’s smile and claim of “Checkmate” in this excerpt signal that Stafford has decided to raise the children.

“He had never had a flight attendant say, ‘Sorry, one each,’ when he asked for a clean blanket or an extra pillow. He had never had to listen to queries from strangers stuffed into their economy seats asking if ‘the kid’ was tired or hungry or just planning to cry all the way to Maui. He had never been head-butted.”

The author again employs anaphora by repeating “He had never.” This technique creates humor by contrasting the comfortable, elite lifestyle that Stafford is accustomed to with the messy, challenging reality of his new role as the children’s guardian.

“‘It’s Gaelic mythology, Agnes. A banshee is a woman of the barrows.’ 

[…] 

‘They’re cats, Stafford. Horrible wild cats and they need to be killed, neutered, or spayed, preferably in some kind of large-scale factory operation.’”

Finn provides comedy by contrasting Stafford’s discourse on Irish mythology with Agnes’s blunt proposal to deal with the cats that are the actual source of the disquieting noises. Stafford’s avoidance of practical solutions to the cats killing native birds in favor of literary digressions illustrates The Limits of Intellectualizing Grief.

“Agnes is a defiant little girl. She talks back and sometimes she screams. Be quiet, Agnes. Control yourself. Wash your hands. Your hands are dirty. Your mother tried to kill you, Agnes. Why do you think you are here?”

In this passage, the novel’s narrative voice shifts, becoming a chorus of all the adults who showed Agness unkindness when she was a child. This monolithic, disembodied voice of disapproval haunts her nightmares, causing her to relive her trauma and encouraging the reader to show her sympathy.

“‘She took the change purse? Jesus.’

‘Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?’”

The aphorism about “the apple [that] doesn’t fall far from the tree” callously portrays the young Agnes’s choices, which were impacted by trauma and shock, as the inevitable product of her “dysfunctional” genetics. Moments like this complicate the novel’s exploration of The Importance of Facing the Past because, unlike Stafford, Agnes doesn’t find relief by revising the details of her painful history.

“‘Whom.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Who slept with whom, Agnes.’

‘I still have the gun, you know.’

‘And I have the bullet.’”

This scene provides comic relief after the tense scene in which Agnes’s gun goes off and narrowly misses Andy. The author creates humor through Stafford’s pedantic insistence on correcting his wife’s grammar and her acerbic reply.

“I promise not to bust into your private life without an invitation and I promise to let you decide how, if, and when you share information about Cynthia with your father. He may be passive-aggressive, uptight, pretentious, intellectually arrogant, and furtive, but he’s not prejudiced unless of course you’re an actor, studio executive or agent. But let’s put that aside.”

Finn provides comedy and direct characterization of Stafford through Agnes’s observation that he’s “passive-aggressive, uptight, pretentious, intellectually arrogant, and furtive, but he's not prejudiced.” Agnes’s promises to Callie offer a sign that the mother and daughter are growing closer, which supports the novel’s message about the importance of family and reconciliation.