65 pages • 2-hour read
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Throughout the novel’s interwoven conflicts, Bannen implicitly argues that loneliness is particularly painful and damaging because humans need emotional connection and meaningful relationships in order to be happy in life. However, the author also suggests that true and lasting connections can only be forged by embracing openness and vulnerability and risking potential pain, loss, and rejection. As Hart reveals in his letters, he is tormented by loneliness, which stems from several interrelated fears. He fears the implications of the possibility that he is immortal, and the thought of outliving all of his loved ones has compelled him to keep the entire world at a distance. Thus, his real fear stems from his unwillingness to experience the loss and pain associated with forming meaningful connections, and he has never managed to process his grief over losing his mother, his mentor (Bill), and his dog (Gracie).
Moreover, in the specific context of his relationship with Mercy, Hart is afraid to reveal his true self and underlying faults because he fears that she will reject him outright, leaving him alone and in emotional pain once again. In his stubborn refusal to assume the full risks of vulnerability, he keeps secrets that endanger the connections that he has managed to make, laboring under the misguided belief that Mercy deserves someone better than him. Overcome by his fear of rejection, he resists embracing the honesty that underlies all meaningful relationships, and his reticence in this area forms one of the novel’s primary conflicts.
By contrast, Mercy understands that in order to be loved and to accept love in return, it is necessary to risk being truly seen, even if rejection is a possible outcome of such vulnerability. Unlike Hart, Mercy demonstrates her bravery and willingness to be vulnerable both in her letters and in her real-time romance with Hart, and her courageous actions demonstrate the benefits of this direct approach. Even so, Hart persists in demonstrating a problematic pattern of avoidance, constantly retreating from vulnerability because he cannot face the risk of exposing himself to new sources of emotional pain. This tendency is also apparent in his fractured friendship with Alma, his standoffishness with other friends and coworkers, and his inability to be entirely honest with Mercy.
Initially, both characters resist showing each other the vulnerability that is necessary to advance their relationship. Instead, they seek the semblance of intimacy by engaging in a “remote” relationship with an unknown person, not realizing that they are writing to one another. In the early stages of the novel, they both use their anonymous letter-writing as a shield to avoid revealing their real selves and risking rejection from their unknown pen pal. However, both Lillian and Bassareus argue that such an ethereal relationship is illusory and ultimately meaningless. Because Hart and Mercy are using the letters to distill and curate only the best parts of themselves, they cannot truly come to know each other via this medium. As Bassareus tells Hart, the letters allow them both to avoid the responsibility of taking on the difficult and often uncomfortable work required to forge an authentic relationship in real-time. Once Mercy accepts this truth, she leans into her discomfort and risks showing her true self in order to build a more lasting connection. However, because Hart’s fear of vulnerability lies in his fear of immortality, he must first reconcile his deeper fears about his own nature before he can embrace the prospect of a lasting romance with Mercy. He therefore avoids being fully honest and open until his hand is forced, and only in the aftermath of this confrontation does he realize that the pain of losing Mercy and reverting to his state of loneliness is far worse than enduring the discomfort of showing vulnerability.
This theme is primarily illustrated in the interactions among the Birdsall family members, particularly Zeddie and Mercy. As Zeddie refuses to fulfill his perceived duty to inherit the family business, his new life goals threaten Mercy’s own wishes, for Roy is so traditionally minded that he does not see Mercy as a potential candidate for taking over the family business. Despite her clear resentment over Zeddie’s change of plans, Mercy understands that being an undertaker is more a vocation than a job, and she also knows that it would be wrong to force Zeddie to fulfill this family duty against his wishes. Though their father, Roy, has long operated on the belief that Zeddie’s inheritance is inevitable, he and the entire family eventually accept that family duty must sometimes give way to personal dreams.
By accepting this new development, Mercy continues to fulfill her perceived duty as the family’s caregiver, and she constantly sacrifices her own life goals for the sake of her siblings—especially when she agrees to keep weighty secrets on their behalf. Lillian is the first to urge Mercy to relinquish her role as their surrogate mother and take care of herself for a change. However, the entire family mistakenly believes that Mercy’s current role as an undertaker is nothing more than a duty that has been imposed on her, but in her mind, becoming the official undertaker in the family business is her personal dream—one that she risks losing when Zeddie refuses to help keep the family business afloat.
While the novel does emphasize the importance of following one’s dreams, Bannen does not completely devalue duty and obligation. Instead, the narrative places the two in balance with each other, demonstrating the ways they interact and influence each other. For instance, though it is not explicitly stated, the narrative implies that Mercy would never have come to love undertaking as she does if she had not felt obligated to take over management of the business upon her mother’s death. Additionally, by being honest about her personal wishes, Mercy is ultimately able to find a way to fulfill both her duties and her dreams, and so is the rest of her family. For example, Mercy supports Zeddie in his decision to become a chef, while Lillian willingly takes on some aspects of the family business in order to support Mercy’s dreams. Thus, neither duty nor ambition is depicted as being an incorrect or selfish choice. By the conclusion of the novel, all of the family members are happy with their choices and have fully accepted the direction that their lives have taken.
As Mercy notes, some humans view mortality as a comfort: a commonality that binds them together, and in the spirit of this philosophy, the novel deliberately depicts death as a unifying and equalizing force. The funerary rites in Bannen’s world also reflect this idea, for when Mercy speaks a blessing over the bodies of unidentified indigents, she makes it a point to declare that they—just like their wealthier counterparts in the fancy handmade boats—will “all sail the Salt Sea” (43). However, Hart can find no sense of peace when faced with this notion. As a demigod, he knows that he may well be immortal; if so, he will be doomed to outlive everyone he loves. Thus, he deliberately avoids making new connections in order to spare himself the eventual pain of loss, Ironically, this is a trait that he shares with his divine father, the Warden, who experiments with mortal life and discovers that this form of existence is inherently painful.
The Warden argues that death is inevitable and should be embraced, and throughout the novel, the importance of death is underscored by the intense focus that the human characters place on their funeral rites. Notably, the humans profess belief in not one but three gods of death, each of whom presides over a different aspect of the journey: the Salt Sea, upon which the dead sail to the House of the Unknown God; the Warden, who guards the door and opens it for those who approach; and Grandfather Bones, who returns the body to the earth. The importance of these intricate death rites is made manifest in the keys that each person carries, which specify the manner in which they are to be sent into the afterlife—whether by boat, burial, or cremation. Given the cultural emphasis on the afterlife, Mercy strongly believes that she provides an important service for grieving families and for the dead themselves, as the deceased require her help to reach their final resting places. Thus, the meaning and value of death lie in its role as a great equalizer and a symbolic return to the arms of their gods.
Despite the people’s conscious embrace of their mortality, the novel also provides space for those who fear death and resist it with all their strength. The lost souls who become drudges are the primary example of this phenomenon in the narrative, for as the Warden explains, the lost souls run from him when he tries to open their door into the House of the Unknown God. Rather than accepting the natural flow of things, the souls cling instead to an empty mimicry of life as drudges, and the Warden fails to understand why until he falls in love with Hart’s mother and discovers the unique joys of living. Similarly, Hart only learns to fear death and wish for life when he realizes that dying requires him to leave Mercy behind forever. The very things that he has resisted—vulnerability, connection, and friendship—are the things that he seeks to recover when he is faced with the prospect of death. The narrative thus implies that the meaning of life lies in those moments of connection that Hart has so stubbornly avoided.



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