“Cora has never liked the name Gordon. The way it starts with a splintering sound that makes her think of cracked boiled sweets, and then ends with a thud like someone slamming down a sports bag.”

Here, Knapp’s use of language implicitly conveys how Cora’s dislike of the name Gordon is inextricably linked to her fear of her husband. She significantly associates the name with harsh sounds such as “splintering,” “slamming,” and “thud.” Conjuring images of violence and brutality, these sounds echo Gordon’s abusive behavior.

“Beneath Cora’s autumn layers, her top begins to dampen. Her sanitary pad becomes a heavy wodge between her legs, while a cold sweat mottles her forehead and prickles at the back of her neck. It’s as if every fluid part of her is attempting to escape her body. To make a run for it.”

After naming her son Bear, Cora registers the inevitable consequences of her decision to defy her husband’s wishes. Rather than describing the protagonist’s thoughts, Knapp focuses on Cora’s physical experience as her instinctive fight-or-flight response is triggered. Vividly conveying Cora’s primal fear, the description indicates the magnitude of the threat Gordon poses to Cora.

“She lives trying not to set a match to Gordon’s anger, but still she spills petrol about her, dripping it over shoes she has forgotten to polish, sloshing it across a particular shirt not washed in time. She races from thing to thing, tending to whatever might spark, but it’s always something behind her, just out of sight that she hadn’t thought of.”

In this metaphor, Gordon’s volatile temper is depicted as a highly flammable substance. Meanwhile, Cora’s behavior is described as the “match” or “petrol” that unintentionally sets the fire alight. Verbs associated with carelessness, such as “spills,” “dripping,” and “sloshing,” implicitly convey Cora’s belief that she is responsible for provoking her husband. However, her self-blame is undercut by the observation that there is “always something […] just out of sight she hasn’t thought of.” The reader understands that, regardless of what Cora does, Gordon will always find a reason to abuse her.

“Maia always seemed attuned to the undercurrents in a room. Cora saw it in the stiff set of her small frame, as though someone had placed narrow rods beneath the shoulder seams of her T-shirt. She saw it in the way her eyes moved between them, tracking their interactions, while being careful to avoid anything that could hint at an alliance. She saw it in the way Maia rushed for kitchen roll to mop up a spill Cora might be blamed for.”

In her exploration of The Effects of Domestic Abuse, the author reveals its damaging impact on Cora’s daughter, Maia. The passage conveys how her father’s violence toward her mother has shaped Maia physically and psychologically. The tension in her body, which manifests in her “stiff” frame, is echoed in her constant mental alertness to the dynamics between her parents. Although only nine years old, Maia takes on the responsibility of trying to protect her mother by attempting to intercept and prevent incidents likely to spark her father’s violence.

“Cora looks down at the baby and feels she has broken something. Less than an hour ago, walking in the opposite direction, his small form seemed filled with hope and possibility. But now, that’s tainted. Where earlier she’d seen only the peach blush of his cheeks and the delicacy of blue-veined lids, now she sees a chin dribbled red and lips pinched in popish judgement.”

The Large Impact of Small Choices is highlighted as naming her son Gordon alters Cora’s feelings about her baby and his future. Cora’s former captivation with her child is emphasized in her focus on his soft and delicate features. However, after naming him, she perceives less attractive features in her son, reflecting her belief that he has been tarnished and is destined to turn into his father.

“His mouth is a roaring O of delight.”

In this brief description of Bear as a boy, the author captures the essence of his character. His fearlessness, energy, and joyful enthusiasm are conveyed in a single sentence. Bear’s “roaring” mouth, reminiscent of a wild animal, suggests that he lives up to his chosen name in every way.

“She feels like she’s been spun around in the washer, then hung out to be blown dry with Maia’s sheets on the line. But she’s also energised, forced into an unasked-for second youth.”

In Julian’s narrative, Cora’s mother, Sílbhe, takes over the care of her grandchildren after their mother is killed. Sílbhe’s swift transformation from a retired grandmother to a substitute mother demonstrates the far-reaching impact of domestic violence beyond Cora and her children. Sílbhe’s subsequent sense of having her life turned upside down is figuratively compared to laundry being spun inside a washing machine. The simile illustrates Knapp’s frequent use of domestic imagery in the novel.

“Her mother lives in a warm house and is bought clothes to wear, but she has no more money or freedom than the woman who pushes a shopping trolley of scavenged treasures around town.”

Maia’s comparison of her mother to a homeless woman underlines the insidious nature of domestic abuse. As a doctor’s wife, Cora appears to live a comfortable and privileged existence. However, her husband ensures she has no financial independence or autonomy.

“He can almost feel his insides ticking along like the fat gold watch when he thinks of being in the studio, with the tools in his hands, making something out of nothing.”

Julian’s discovery of artisan jewelry-making emphasizes the importance of art and creativity as a form of self-expression in the novel. Julian is depicted as coming to life while he works, “his insides ticking” like a newly wound watch. The metaphor conveys his transition from a life lived in “greyscale” to fully inhabiting his own body.

“They treat her like a rare butterfly, accepting these moments when she is amongst them and appears, however briefly, to dazzle. Gordon once told her a butterfly’s average lifespan is twenty-nine days. She wonders, when she adds up these moments where she exists out in the world, if her lifespan will be any longer. And which would be better? To have those days boiled down into one intense burst of colour, or to have the pin removed from the thorax every now and then, dusty wings fluttering back to life, a little more time eke out before being locked away again?”

This passage exemplifies Knapp’s use of animal motifs to illustrate the inner lives of her characters. Cora is perceived as a “rare butterfly” by the other doctors’ wives, as Gordon restricts the occasions she appears in public. This concept develops into an extended metaphor as Cora is compared to a pinned butterfly, effectively imprisoned by her husband and robbed of motion. The image of having a pin through her “thorax” powerfully conveys the extent of Gordon’s physical and emotional cruelty.

“In a crowd, in a city, she is always looking for him. She sees the back of his head, his profile, his gait, in the form of every middle-aged man he might conceivably have morphed into during the decades since she last saw him. It makes her heart race, as though life—the world—is always on the verge of unleashing a grenade on her.”

Maia’s perspective conveys the lasting effects of witnessing domestic abuse as a child. Now an adult, she remains continually vigilant of a possible sighting of her father, perceiving him as an ongoing threat. The description of Maia’s “racing heart” demonstrates her primal fear response at the possibility of encountering her capacity. The metaphor of “unleashing a grenade” denotes Gordon’s violent, destructive nature.

“He is not unattractive, he knows that. But somehow, he lacks the confidence he feels should go with this face. It’s as though it belongs to someone other than him and he feels sure another man would wear it better. Holding their jaw strong where he carries it weakly. Maintaining eye contact where he lets it drop.”

Julian’s reflection on his physical appearance illustrates how he has been shaped by his father’s murder of his mother. The lack of authority and confidence he perceives in his own features stems from Julian’s fear that if he fully expresses his character, he will discover he is just like his father. Julian’s belief that “another man would [his face] better” hints at a subconscious connection to Bear, a more self-assured version of himself in another life.

“As the three of them wait in stony silence, an image of a childhood toy enters Gordon’s head. While Maia has been given a trio of traditional Russian dolls each wearing the same pretty smile, his set was hand-painted with the faces of monsters, each more unsettling than the last. Sometimes, he used to turn them to the wall before getting into bed at night. And all these years later, he’s disconcerted to sense a similarity around their table now, something dark and unpleasant connecting eldest to youngest.”

Knapp explores the symbolic significance of names in the novel, presenting three generations of Gordons seated at the same table. The metaphor of monstrous matryoshka dolls underlines the concept of inherited traits, suggesting that each generation is destined to possess the same destructive tendencies. The figurative comparison also hints at how Gordon Jr. fears what he has become as he recalls his childhood habit of turning the Russian dolls to face the wall.

“Cora shrinks with each week that passes, with each week that sits between her and whatever life she once had as a mother, a dancer, a schoolgirl, someone’s daughter, heart beating out of her chest as she learnt to ride a bike or felt the happiness of biting into flapjack warm from the oven before the syrup had a chance to harden.”

Here, the metaphor of Cora gradually shrinking illustrates how long-term domestic abuse strips her of identity and autonomy. The vivid sensory details in her recollection of life before she married Gordon, such as the sensation of biting into a warm flapjack and the thrill of learning to ride a bike, convey the vitality of her former self. These memories starkly contrast with the joyless existence Gordon has imposed on her.

“His head swirls with regrets, analysing how their fates had shifted unseen, as though on tectonic plates. Not once, but twice. First avoiding the concert that had been targeted in the attacks—teetering, about to cross a fault line onto another plane, until pressure, release. They continued on. Only for Lily to meet another fault.”

Bear dwells on The Large Impact of Small Choices after his decision to cancel a date with Lily saves them from the danger of a terrorist attack at a Paris concert but causes Lily to be shot at a different venue. The metaphor of standing on shifting tectonic plates suggests the complex interplay between fate and human agency. While individuals can guide the direction of their lives through the choices they make, the influence of fate cannot be predicted.

“And even though it’s just a turn of phrase, for a moment he’d felt unexpectedly touched, winded almost, to be referred to that way. My boy. When he hears Cian speak, Bear feels an odd nostalgia for something he’s never had.”

Bear is profoundly moved when Cian addresses him as “My boy.” The oxymoron describing Bear’s “odd nostalgia for something he’s never had” suggests an unconscious connection to his alternative incarnation as Julian. While Cian is a minor character in Bear’s life, he becomes a substitute father to Julian during his upbringing in Ireland.

“Julian remembers her as Mum. A soft word, which belonged only to him and Maia. Cora was one of his words. He remembers how it felt to hear her name said in a particular way. Cora! Like a red flag. Cora! Like a warning bell. Even now, the memory causes his shoulders to stiffen, his stomach to drop. He wonders if he could reclaim it for her, for the next generation. Liberate it. Yet—and it feels disloyal to admit it, as though the blame might lie with her—he bridles at the idea of forging a link between their baby and someone who died so tragically.”

Julian’s consideration of names for his unborn child echoes Cora’s situation at the beginning of the novel. Once again, the significance of names is emphasized as Julian reflects on the implications of naming his child after Cora. Just as his mother was reluctant to call her son Gordon, Julian rejects the name Cora, associating it with his father’s abuse and his mother’s tragic death. His choice of a different name signals a break from generational cycles.

“Because whenever she thinks of her mother, her whole being pricks with guilt. For not being enough. For not being a daughter Cora will confide in. For not challenging her father as she’s grown older, because the moment she’s in his presence, she’s nine years old again, hollow and scared, the wind blowing straight through her. Medicine is their only common ground. Their only safe topic. Which comes as a relief, but also a betrayal.”

Knapp illustrates Maia’s character arc in Gordon Jr.’s narrative as she becomes distanced from Cora and forges a connection with her father due to following in his professional footsteps. The situation contrasts with Maia’s childhood attempt to rescue Cora by telling her grandmother about Gordon’s abuse. Maia’s gradual change of stance illustrates the challenges of offering support to loved ones in abusive relationships. Unable to help her mother, she avoids confronting the truth about her parents’ marriage while also being consumed by guilt.

“There, on the shelf behind the checkout. Gordon’s. It’s familiar green glass. The cursive script that spells out his name. That says, Yours. And that now also says, Lily. And lawyer, and assault.”

Gordon Jr.’s changing feelings toward Gordon’s Gin emphasize his character arc and the symbolic meanings of names in the novel. When first introduced to the brand of liquor that bears his name, he felt a connection to it that mirrored his link to his father. However, as Gordon resolves to become a better person, he associates the gin with behavior he is ashamed of, such as his sexual assault of Lily and descent into alcohol addiction. His new aversion to the drink represents his liberation from general cycles.

“He was not his father. He’d thought he walked a narrow line, at any moment ready to tip over into likeness. But the line wasn’t narrow after all. It was a great, uncrossable chasm. Julian would never be like him. Even if he allowed his anger to unfurl—raised his voice in an argument—he would never be capable of the cruelties his father had inflicted. Not even close. He could finally see that now.”

Julian experiences an epiphany as he finally confronts the legacy of the past after years of avoidance. By asking Maia to share her memories of their father’s abusive behavior with him, he realizes that, despite his genetic link to a murderer, he is “not his father.” The knowledge liberates Julian, allowing him to express his emotions more freely without fear of losing control.

“She’s sixty-eight now, and although she knows the idea of being put out to pasture is a phrase others associate with obsolescence and redundancy, for her it conjures lush green fields filled with buttercups where she’s free to roam.”

Knapp uses the imagery of nature to illustrate Cora’s trajectory from incarceration to freedom after her divorce from Gordon. The author highlights how Cora’s life path contrasts with that of most individuals, as she achieves autonomy and purpose upon reaching retirement age. Her new sense of potential is conveyed in the image of “lush fields filled with buttercups.”

“Her eyes had met his, though. Only for a second. And he’d been the first to look away. She remembers that, because it had surprised her. And because in the next moment she’d noticed a small stain on his shirt. Two orange dots, as if a pan of tomato soup might have spattered up at him. She thinks of it often. Of the things it seems to tell her: that it had escaped his notice; that he was alone; that he was fallible. And it somehow makes her less afraid.”

As Cora and Gordon Sr. attend a meeting to finalize their divorce, the novel highlights Cora’s changing perception of her husband. The “small stain on his shirt” indicates that he is human and “fallible,” undermining his former presentation of himself as a god-like figure. The observation highlights how Gordon’s former control over Cora was based on instilling fear in his wife. Once he no longer wields power over her, she realizes he is weak and insecure.

“He studies Saturn’s features. He remembers feeling terrified by this face the first time he saw it, recalls the hopelessness he felt that night in the restaurant discussing it with Maia. But he sees something different in the figure now. Where once he’d seen power and rage, now he sees desperation. Fear.”

Gordon Jr.’s dramatic character transformation is illustrated when he revisits Goya’s painting “Saturn Devouring His Son.” Previously, the image of the god consuming his child was an unwelcome reminder of how his father subsumed and shaped his character. However, after confronting Gordon Sr. with evidence of his abuse and liberating his mother from her marriage, he reinterprets the painting. Saturn’s horrific act is symbolic not of power but of a fear that his sons will usurp him.