54 pages 1-hour read

The Library at Mount Char

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2015

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Character Analysis

Carolyn Sopaski

Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of cursing, sexual violence, rape, mental illness, child abuse, child sexual abuse, child death, death by suicide, animal cruelty and death, graphic violence, illness or death, physical abuse, and emotional abuse.


The Library at Mount Char’s protagonist is Carolyn Sopaski, an approximately 30-year-old woman with a knack for planning and keeping secrets. She is ambitious, cunning, and so fixated on her agenda that she struggles to relate to others and is sometimes oblivious to their experiences. Skilled at reading people, Carolyn effectively uses manipulation tactics to gain cooperation toward her goals. Her intent is not malicious, but it shows a self-seeking disregard for people’s rights. Her statement—“I won. That’s the only rule I’m aware of” (306)—exemplifies this and associates her with the rebel archetype, a character who believes rules are meant to be broken and is often driven by a desire for revenge. She also shares traits with the ruler archetype. She’s obsessed with the pursuit of power and becomes consumed by it.


Several other archetypes can be seen in Carolyn’s story, imbuing it with a sense of the universal and profound. Her motivation spurs two archetypal journeys, the quest for vengeance and the quest for knowledge, which in her case is the source of power. These journeys inform and depict The Succession Conflict and Parallels to Greek Mythology. The scene in which Carolyn revisits her “Adoption Day” memory delineates her crossroads, a time in which a character must make a major decision that leads to change or penance. Her decision to resurrect Father follows, leading her to a monumental choice about how she’ll rule and to her character transformation.


Two conflicts shape Carolyn’s arc the most: her struggle to survive the abuse and trauma that Father and David inflict, and her consuming pursuit of power and revenge. Both change her in ways that she comes to regret. The first, her past abuse and trauma, informs the second. Her plan to overthrow Father isn’t only about acquiring power. She sees it as her only way to escape an intolerable life, as well as a path to revenge. To survive the trauma, she must repress any traits and emotions that make her vulnerable, like compassion and honesty. To succeed in her quest for power and revenge, she needs to hide every feeling or thought that might draw suspicion, even from her conscious mind. She must wear a figurative mask, pretending to be like-minded and obedient to Father. This conflict develops a thematic message about The Emotional Toll of Wearing a Mask.


A key event early in Carolyn’s character arc is the murder of Isha and Asha. It represents the loss of her innocence and the origin of a drastic shift in her life and identity. Afterward, she is shaped by hate and distrust, symbolized by her standing “alone in the dark, both in that moment and ever after” (8). At age 16, Jennifer warns her that she’s showing signs of the “particular species of crazy” that David and Margaret exhibit (256), which she sees as a nonadaptive response to abuse and trauma. It leads her to embrace and cultivate the same horrors that traumatized her. She gradually becomes more and more like Father, despite hating him. Margaret and Steve provide clues that Carolyn is nearing a point of no return for her inner humanity. Margaret delightedly says they’re the same now, and Steve sacrifices himself in protest, dying by suicide. After her crossroads, Carolyn tells Steve, “I’ve had enough revenge. I’m done” (377). This revelation and her actions to undo the harm she’s caused mark her transformation, completing an arc that demonstrates The Human Capacity for Cruelty, Compassion, and Change.

Steve Hodgson

Steve Hodgson is both a romantic interest and a foil for Carolyn, as well as a source of humor in the narrative. His figurative role as Carolyn’s heart coal—an idealized memory of him that sustains her without the complications of actual attachment—moves her toward conquest and the loss of her humanity, while the real version of his character helps bring her back. Though Carolyn is the protagonist, her seizure of power is motivated by revenge rather than a desire to improve the world, so in the end, it’s Steve who brings about the world’s salvation. He achieves this by making the ultimate sacrifice, his life, thus embodying the martyr archetype. His character diverges from this archetype in some ways, making him more flawed and therefore more complex and authentic. His criminal history and ongoing struggle to lead an honest life make him empathetic toward others and create a compelling personal arc.


The author reveals Steve’s character in several significant ways, including his emotional baggage, his relationship to Buddhist ideals, and a secondary interpretation by Father. Steve blames himself for his friend’s death 10 years ago and has been consumed by guilt ever since. He’s built his identity around it and consistently describes himself as “an asshole” and “a piece of shit” (32, 34). He’s trying to be a better man, however, and is guided in this endeavor by Buddhist philosophy. The values of his chosen religion—compassion, altruism, non-attachment, moral courage, and the alleviation of suffering—reflect Steve’s values. Father’s remarkable insight qualifies his interpretation as an accurate and unbiased view of Steve’s character. He says of Steve: “He meant well, and he was a brave boy. But if you hadn’t been around, he would have found something else to martyr himself over. […] Some people have an enormous capacity for feeling guilt, deserved or otherwise. The bit with his friend dying cemented it” (364). Through these traits, his emotional baggage, and his Buddhist values, Steve is central to a thematic look at the human capacity for cruelty, compassion, and change.


In one scene, Steve describes his motivation through a metaphor: “Sometimes I feel like a new plant, like I just sprouted from the dirt, like I’m trying to stretch up to the sun” (29). This presents an ironic contrast to his final transformation, in which he becomes the sun itself. He develops his central flaw when he commits his first burglary: As he crossed the house’s threshold, “the dry husk of his old life fell away and was abandoned” (179). This moment symbolizes the loss of his innocence. Comparing his life before that to a dry husk indicates this loss resulted from hardship and trauma. Steve’s most important epiphany develops during the month he spends in the Library trying to get through to Carolyn. Erwin’s insights about the connection between trauma, emotions, and language cultivate the perspective that Steve needs to understand Carolyn. Carolyn’s choice to suspend Steve as the new sun can be interpreted in many ways, but Steve’s Buddhist values and Father’s description of his character suggest this is an outcome Steve would want. He’s letting go of earthly attachments, alleviating suffering for all humanity, and experiencing eternal joy.

Father

As one of the story’s antagonists, Father’s name conveys his godlike position of power and authority. The backstory reveals he has also gone by the names Adam Black, Ablakha, and Abla Khan, but in the scope of this text, he’s known by the name Father. He can be viewed as adjacent to the creator archetype, but his statement that he didn’t create the universe distinguishes him from this archetype and from the type of deity seen in monotheistic religions. The mythology that surrounds his character is more comparable to that of the Titans and Olympian gods of Greek mythology or the gods and giants of Norse mythology. Like these mythologies, Father’s reign is marked by conquests, battles for power, and betrayals within his own family. Father’s character fuels this archetypal premise, thus portraying The Succession Conflict and Parallels to Greek Mythology.


Hawkins uses descriptions that evoke biblical language to characterize Father as a godlike figure: He “had mastered the crafting of wonders. He could call down lightning, or stop time. Stones spoke to him by name” (6). In another example, his voice “cracked mountains and called light out of darkness” and “rolled through the children’s minds like thunder” (349). His use of torture to control the librarians is another significant source of his character development, such as when he burns David alive in the bull and when he makes Margaret wait in fear for him to murder her. These actions portray Father as sadistic, bolstering the novel’s theme of the human capacity for cruelty, compassion, and change. While he seems to be motivated by desires to inflict pain and to preserve absolute power, Carolyn’s epiphanies in the narrative climax call this into question. His true motive has been preparing Carolyn to be his successor, for which he believed acting monstrously was necessary. His complex motives and ambiguous intentions add depth to his character.


The parallels that emerge between Father and Carolyn’s characters reveal a good deal about Carolyn and shape the book’s themes. The way she views him is partly a projection of how she views herself. She says: “All that matters about him is that he’s really, really smart. That and the fact that he was born into a terrible time, probably worse than you can imagine. Something like hell, except real” (239). Though she hates Father, understanding what drove him helps her eventually recognize that she’s become like him. At the appropriate time, Father cements this lesson by showing her the truth and treating her with kindness and respect.

David

David is one of the novel’s two main antagonists. In his role as the librarian assigned to the catalog of murder and war, he epitomizes cruelty, violence, and abuse of power. His character contributes significantly to the narrative’s horror and dark fantasy elements. David’s physical appearance, which figures much more prominently than that of the other librarians, is an indicator of his inner state. He smells of rot and decay, has flies buzzing around his head, and his hair has hardened into a sort of helmet by the blood he squeezes from his victims’ hearts. He’s often covered in blood and human entrails, and the contrast of his flak jacket and tutu comes across as macabre rather than silly. David’s actions portray him as sadistic: In addition to raping and killing Carolyn in Interlude 4, for example, he tortures her emotionally by saying he won’t stop until she screams for him.


Despite the depth of David’s inhumanity, his character has some complexity. His relationship with Mrs. McGillicutty exemplifies this by showing that he still has some capacity for affection and gentleness. Flashbacks showing him as a child go even further to demonstrate depth and complexity in his character. As Carolyn revisits her “Adoption Day” memory, she observes: “There was David, reaching down to help a younger child who had fallen in the grass. ‘You OK, Mike?’ David said. His voice was kind” (346). In Interlude 1, Michael and Carolyn talk about David being too friendly to be a fighter, but he changes after Father burns him alive in the bull, illustrating the impact of abuse. This evolution of his character helps demonstrate the human capacity for cruelty, compassion, and change.


David embodies the shadow archetype—an opponent the hero must destroy or neutralize and that can symbolize the darker side of the hero’s own psyche. Father’s revelation that Carolyn was the librarian for murder and war in several versions of the past develops this symbolism. In those pasts, Carolyn also began as a kind, innocent child and became a monster. Father says she was worse than David, him, and even the Emperor, then adds, “[W]orse than anything, anywhere, ever. You were a demon. A devil” (371). Given this, David’s character represents the capacity for evil within Carolyn and all humans, which must be mitigated by wisdom, supportive friends, and compassion.

Margaret

Margaret is a librarian assigned to the catalog of death. Father routinely murders her so that she can explore the forgotten lands, which is the novel’s version of the underworld. Through her connection to death and the forgotten lands, Margaret resembles the creature of nightmare archetype. She isn’t summoned from the darkest parts of the human psyche, but Father’s abuse chips away at her until all that remains is the archetypal desecration of the human body. After one of her resurrections, Carolyn looks at her and thinks: “She is barely here anymore. All that’s really left of her is the smell” (17). After being killed and resurrected countless times, she’s now like the dead ones, zombie-like people who have only been halfway brought back from the dead.


Margaret’s thematic significance is in her response to abuse and trauma. Jennifer describes it as an avoidance mechanism and a “particular species of crazy” in which the traumatized person embraces the pain and chaos they’re forced to endure (256). She says Margaret has the worst case she’s ever heard of and is a “lost cause.” Margaret displays a form of dissociation—a separation of mental processes from one’s central consciousness. It’s the only way she can survive the torture Father inflicts on her, but it makes her emotionally numb and ultimately leads her to delight in violence and depravity, illustrating the human capacity for cruelty, compassion, and change.


Margaret also functions symbolically as Carolyn’s first clue about the traumas she will face and her final warning that she’s becoming the very monster she fought to overthrow. A few weeks after “Adoption Day,” Carolyn sees nine-year-old Margaret hiding from Father. She’s shrieking and trembling, unable to speak, with blood-streaked tears. In this moment, Carolyn begins to understand the horrors that await her. After Carolyn tells Margaret about killing David and ensuring his eternal agony, Margaret says she’s become a horror, just like her. This helps Carolyn recognize the need to change her ways and be a more compassionate person.

Erwin Leffington

Erwin Leffington, the Homeland Security special agent, is the story’s archetypal trickster. His larger-than-life persona adds needed humor to balance the text’s darkness and emotional intensity. For example, he considers skipping the White House visit because he doesn’t care about winning medals but opts to go because he’s curious how the Oval Office carpenters did the baseboards and crown molding. He’s a maverick whose nonconformist attitude creates levity. Erwin’s behavior in the Oval Office is also humorous—he adopts terrible grammar, spews curse words, and spits tobacco—but it’s also thematically significant. He’s putting on a facade to make people think he’s less intelligent and capable than he really is, just as Carolyn does. This helps develop the thematic message about the emotional toll of wearing a mask.


Erwin’s relationship to Carolyn reveals important aspects of her character. Through his incredible skill in combat and as a special agent, he parallels Carolyn’s power on a more realistic scale. This skill has earned him a spotlight, acclaim, and informal authority that allows him to operate, like Carolyn, outside the normal restraints of society. He also relates to her experiences with trauma, and his insights develop the connection between trauma, emotions, and language. Erwin’s function in the story is also to reinforce meaningful parallels between Carolyn and Father. Just before he shoots David, Carolyn says: “And then…from the east…Thunder” (273). This implies that Erwin is to Carolyn what Nobununga was to Father, emphasizing the similarities between their conquests and their character arcs.

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