The Lamb

“The tub yellowed near the plughole and there was a peachy hue up the curve of the bath. It was the same color as my skin. Milky and a little buttery, like the outer edges of a bruise. Mildew and dried-up water peppered the glass screen. Black mold had crawled up the plaster and between the grout. The bathroom was small and the dark corners harbored cobwebs, rings of damp and hairline cracks.”

The text uses description and visual imagery to convey the cloying claustrophobia of Margot’s life. Rose uses the simile of a faded bruise to describe the sickly color of the bathtub, making Margot’s very surroundings appear diseased. Margot’s home, like the woods that surround it, thus contains hidden dangers and ugly secrets, reflecting Nature as Refuge and Danger.

“We are what we eat, Mama always said.”

An example of the text’s use of gallows-humor, Ruth’s utterance of a famous wellness mantra is unintentionally ironic as the food she is eating is human meat. Ruth uses the maxim to explain why strays must be kept happy before they are killed, so that their happiness becomes part of the consumer.

“But when the men saw me closing in from behind Mama, they looked right through me. They wanted Mama’s fingers on their skin. That’s when I realized that, as adults look at children, they don’t really see them. They see a body without a mind. Something that does what it’s told. Something that will only understand when it’s older.”

Margot is not just the Little One of the novel for Ruth and Eden, she is also treated as marginal by most grown-ups she encounters, such as the pair of stray men lured by Ruth. Margot’s keen intelligence senses that most people treat children as invisible, even though children see everything. Margot’s marginalization is central to her emergence as the real heroine of the story, showing how children are so much more resourceful than adults understand.

“‘I forget I am a giant,’ he once said. ‘Did you know giants sleep under the crust of the fells? If you look carefully, you’ll see them breathing in and out as they slumber.’”

The gamekeeper introduces Margot to the myth of the giants sleeping under the fells (moors), the story recurring as a motif throughout the text. Rose draws the tale from British folklore and many other legends from around the world, in which kings, gods, or legendary heroes slumber under a hill, the wind their breath. For Margot, the giants come to represent ambiguous figures whose slumber makes the world safe. Later, after Ruth and Eden die, Margot will note that she has put the monsters into a deep sleep so the homestead is protected, turning the giants into a symbol of The Importance of Breaking the Cycle of Abuse and Violence.

“My spine curved and my knees met my chin. She once told me I was her sweet ammonite fossil and I was only hers to unearth. Since then, I’d grown fond of the idea of becoming lost under layers of muck and rock and sand. I coiled up in my blanket, squeezing my eyes shut. I pretended to be a well-slept ammonite fossil just like Mama wanted.”

Ruth uses the metaphor of a tightly whorled ammonite fossil to describe Margot. The comparison reflects The Problem of Parental Domination: While Margot interprets it as a sign of affection, it is also sinister in that Ruth wants Margot to be a buried, small, and dead, with her insistence that Margot is “only hers to unearth” reinforcing Ruth’s desire for control. Margot’s desire to make herself into a fossil shows how a child facing abuse may walk on eggshells to placate the abusive parent.

“Mama told me her teeth were the only thing she wanted to change about herself. Even though I am beautiful, Little One, people don’t trust women who have bad teeth. I’ve met men who called me a savage because of these things, she once said, pulling up her lip with her finger to show me her canines.”

Ruth’s teeth function as a symbol in the text, representing both her monstrous appetite and containing allusions to the fairy tale of Little Red Riding Hood, in which the wolf’s teeth help to reveal his true identity when he is disguised as Red Riding Hood’s kindly grandmother. They position Ruth as a fairy-tale beast or monster waiting to grab a child.

“What he didn’t understand was that blood and bruises were normal where I came from.

Mama didn’t feed me from breast or bottle. She gave me blood.”

Margot’s reflection shows how radically different her upbringing is from the worst thing kind Steve could ever imagine. Since Margot is so used to violence, she dissociates herself from the physical bullying of the boys on the bus. Margot’s response to the bullying indicates how badly Ruth’s abuse has affected her, while the bus driver’s compassionate concern gestures toward The Importance of Breaking the Cycle of Abuse and Violence.

“‘Do you like music, Youngen?’ he asked out of the blue. I nodded. At first I was quiet. I knew most adults were up to no good. I didn’t trust a single one. But this one was different from the others. He wasn’t a stray. There was something of a house about him—something all strays were without.”

As this passage shows, Steve, the driver of Margot’s school bus, represents hope and empathy in the novel. It is Steve who awakens Margot to the possibility that not all adults are strays—with strays here implying dehumanized creatures. By behaving humanely with Margot, Steve forces her to see other people as human as well. “Youngen,” Steve’s endearment for Margot, is significant, as it is distinct from the Little One Ruth uses. While Ruth’s nickname is diminutive, cutting Margot down to size, Steve’s emphasizes Margot’s youth, and thus her capacity for change.

“I’d learnt not to speak while Mama was sad or angry. Or happy. It was only safe when she seemed like she was floating. When she was like that, I used to imagine parts of her would disperse like dandelions in a gentle breeze. Mama was most loving when she was somewhere else. I loved her the most when she was on the verge of falling asleep. Mama was softer then, like a real human.”

Margot’s assertion that she watches her words and timing around Ruth is an accurate portrayal of a terrorized child, reflecting The Problem of Parental Domination. At the same time, Margot cannot help longing for her mother’s love, cherishing the time when her monstrous parent seems “like a real human.” Margot’s ambivalent feelings toward Ruth foreshadow how she will gain greater awareness of Ruth’s true nature as the novel progresses.

“‘Right, well.’ He coughed. ‘Perhaps stop messing around so much and be more sensible, and you won’t be so blotchy.’ He stood up and brushed himself down, shrugging off the concern.”

Mr. Hill, Margot’s class teacher, represents the callous larger world that often turns its back on the marginalized because caring is too inconvenient. When Mr. Hill notices the bruises on Margot, he pauses for a moment, only to blame her for getting the bruises because she messes around. He decides to slot the bruises as injuries from playing, because confronting other possibilities would be bothersome.

“‘We can’t save each other. Not really,’ Eden said, pinching my shoulder with her fingers. ‘What people don’t know, Little One, is that the most dreadful things happen out in the open while the sun shines bright up in the sky and no one can do a thing about it. Those who watch don’t care and pretend they don’t see. They burrow and forget.’ If Mama’s fur was stolen, or Abbie’s, I would find the hunter that stole it and I’d make him my stray. He would be the one to rot beneath a burning sun.”

This passage presents Eden and Margot’s opposing philosophies. Eden’s view is nihilistic and competitive, since she believes every person is out there on their own. Since no one cares for the suffering of others, there is no point pretending people can save their kin. Margot’s view, on the other hand, is informed by love and a clear sense of justice. She believes people can save each other and punish wrong-doers. Margot’s thoughts foreshadow her heroic role in the novel and The Importance of Breaking the Cycle of Abuse and Violence.

“‘Here, Little One,’ Eden said. ‘Only one finger for tonight. A grown-up tummy is much bigger. When you’re grown, you can have as many fingers as Mama and me.’ She dropped the finger on the table before me. It landed with a soft bounce and the wood slurped up the butter, absorbing it into the fine grain. ‘It was Eden’s idea to breadcrumb it,’ Mama said, fussing over a bowl of flour. ‘And she’s used salt and rosemary. It’s about time we started eating as we deserve.’”

Eden talks to 11-year-old Ruth as if she is a much younger child, using terms like “tummy” for stomach and “grown-ups” for adult, which indicates the extent to which she infantilizes Margot. Margot’s habitual deprivation of proper food is yet another act of abuse from Ruth and Eden, reflecting The Problem of Parental Domination. This passage is also an example of the text’s food imagery, juxtaposing the delectable aspects of cooking with the horror of what is being consumed.

“In the thickest tissue of my brain, dark thoughts and impulses formed. I didn’t feel the hunger in the same way Mama did.”

The novel is a coming-of-age story for Margot, as indicated by lines like these. As Margot grows in self-awareness, she begins to question Ruth’s version of herself. Though Ruth has always insisted that Margot shares her craving for human meat, Margot wonders if the craving is the result of Ruth’s conditioning. As she begins to empathize with others and form connections in the outer world, Margot thus begins to formulate more independent notions of her own identity.

“‘Men love the idea of women. They love the question about a woman. The mystery yet to be solved. Then, when he discovers she has a personality all of her own, neuroses and quirks, just like him, he decides…’ Mama didn’t finish her sentence. ‘Your papa didn’t love me. He wanted a wife. That was the part that made my hunger stronger than I’d ever known.’”

Ruth often manipulates narratives to suit her own purposes, such as how she blames Margot’s father and tries to cast him as someone who unfairly oppressed her. As Margot will later discover, Ruth actually killed and ate her husband and will use this fact to torment her daughter further. In trying to frame herself as a victim of others’ power, Ruth evades addressing how she herself thrives on violent domination of others.

“The smell was a harsh mix of bleach and rotting eggs, putrid and impatient to find its way up my nose and crawl into my lungs. A hook hung from the middle of the ceiling. From it, Mama had fastened the feet of the stray. The carcass had been stripped bare. Beneath it there was a copper basin collecting the blood. Inside, broken-up dandelions and their stems floated in circles, all twisted and twined with hair from the stray’s scalp.”

These lines are an example of the text’s use of gore and body-horror, which is more evocative than graphic. The butchering and skinning of the stray happens off the page, yet the image of a human carcass suspended over a basin, flowers and hair floating in the collected blood, are enough to create a visceral response.

“When the sun hit the pool and the trees sprinkled new leaves onto its surface, the water looked like copper. Pine needles from upstream and newly formed scum drifted over the water. The pool forming at the bend was deep and still. It looked like ale, a rich brown with shimmers of gold.”

These lines show how the text’s depictions of nature sometimes provide a respite from the grim happenings in the cottage, reflecting Nature as Both Refuge and Danger. Rose uses food and color imagery to create a brief, perfect interlude, the water compared explicitly to rich, brown ale. However, such idyllic scenes are also what lure some of the strays to the woods, putting them in harm’s way.

“Mama relaxed, pulling closer to Eden. Their skin looked as white as snow beneath the water. When the hot sunlight came through the clouds, they shared a kiss. This was true love; fighting and then crashing into one another again like waves.”

Ruth and Eden find love and acceptance in each other. Their pairing is often described using imagery from the wild, showing it is a natural, easy fit that fulfils the women. To Margot, the women bathing in the river appear to be made of snow and water, flowing effortlessly. The apparent beauty of their connection momentarily hides the cruelty and violence that truly unites them.

“‘I haven’t had a kit in an awfully long time. Hard little buggers to catch. But worth the fuss. To feel a little baby inside you is like nothing else.’ Eden put her eyes on me and did not move them. They came with the weight of stone as they fixed on my cheeks. Mama watched her intently.”

The fairy-tale horror of a child sensing it is about to be eaten by a monster, is heightened by quotes like the above. Eden repeatedly refers to the tender, delicious meat of baby rabbits and other animal cubs, foreshadowing her plans for Margot. The fact that she stares at Margot while uttering the words creates an ominous atmosphere, Margot alerted to the fact that Eden is, in fact, talking about her.

“She carried something terrible with her. She kept her grief subdued and quiet—so much so, it had begun to rot.”

After Eden tells Ruth and Margot the story of her own metaphorical filicide, Margot senses the pain behind Eden’s collected front. Eden’s restlessness and hunger, as well as her constant references to Margot as Little One, are linked with her trauma around childbirth and The Problem of Parental Domination: Eden felt controlled by her father, who forced her to give birth, and now seeks to control others instead of breaking that cycle.

“‘I’m not bored of you. I’m sick of you. Of all the stupid things you say. Of that disagreeable nature your papa gave you. Of all the things you’ve done to this body. My body.’ She took the flesh of her belly between her fingers and squeezed tight. ‘Do you think this is what I’m supposed to look like?’ Mama’s eyes welled up. She bit her lip. ‘I could have been so much more than this […] I’ve wondered for a long time what you’ll taste like. The gamekeeper tasted like euphoria. Because that’s what he gave me. But you, Margot? You’ll taste of regret.’ The door shut behind her with a sharp slam.”

Ruth’s lines illustrate The Problem of Parental Domination. Instead of seeing Margot as an individual human being with her own intrinsic value, Ruth only measures Margot’s worth based on whether or not Margot is exactly as Ruth wishes for her to be. Ruth’s lines also convey women’s bodily anxiety around pregnancy and childbirth. Mainstream narratives may downplay this fear, but women’s stories and feminist literature often explore it.

“It’s impossible to truly know someone who hides so much of themselves and consumes so much of others.”

Margot’s assessment of Ruth shows Margot’s tremendous growth in the novel as she draws towards The Importance of Breaking the Cycle of Abuse and Violence. From the childish voice of the first chapter, Margot now sounds wise and sure, even though she is in duress. Although Margot once thought Ruth was beautiful and strong, she can now see that Ruth lacks courage and is irredeemably selfish, “consum[ing]” others both literally and figuratively through her desire for control.

“‘It will be warm. You will be in so many pieces, but you will be at peace inside us. You are a promise. You are a promise that we will both feel full and warm, always,’ Mama whispered to me, but her words were drifting away. I knew the words had been stolen from Eden’s mouth. They were simple, empty echoes. Hollow promises. I didn’t feel full or warm. I felt alone and scattered.”

While Ruth loves Eden’s stories, calling her a natural story-teller, Margot can see that Eden’s words, which Ruth borrows, are hollow. Ruth tries to sugarcoat Margot’s death and consumption, but Margot now sees the manipulation for what it is. The fact that Ruth parrots Eden’s words once again reinforces her tendency to hide behind others. These lines also deepen the mood of sadness infusing the end of the novel, since Margot cannot be comforted by empty words. She knows her end is near, and she feels scattered and lonely.

“‘I know you think I’m a monster, but we all have a bit of dark inside. And light too,’ Mama whispered, combing her fingers through my hair.”

Ruth, like Eden, tries to tell manipulative narratives to justify her own violent and selfish behavior. In trying to claim that everyone has “a bit of dark inside,” Ruth evades responsibility for her own violent and harmful behavior, trying to frame it as inevitable and natural. This sentiment stands in marked contrast with the bus driver’s teachings, as he has taught Margot that all humans have the responsibility to do good in the world despite the many evils in it.