“Helen marched into the kitchen and gazed at the last crumbs of Sylvia’s cake. Zach and Nate were eating standing up. Melanie and Dan, Steve and Andrea, Sylvia and Lew were eating at the table. Then Helen caught her own husband throwing away a paper plate. ‘Et tu, Charles,’ Lew said. ‘You used my recipe,’ Helen told Sylvia.”

Sylvia’s decision to make Helen’s apple cake recipe shortly before Jeanne’s death serves as the inciting incident of the novel. As Helen “gaz[es] at the last crumbs” and studies her family members’ enjoyment of the cake, she feels as if Sylvia has usurped her position in the family by presenting everyone with her cake recipe. This perceived betrayal leads to the sisters’ estrangement and creates divisions within the larger family circle, showing that unaddressed slights between family members can have a lasting impact.

“For years Richard had done nothing right. He knew this because Debra had told him. Apart from working constantly and making French toast, he had done nothing for his family. He had not picked up the girls from school. He had not picked up a goddamn sock. At one point, when Debra had been overwhelmed, Richard had suggested hiring some help, thus failing a major test of character. It had never occurred to Richard that he was the one who needed to pitch in.”

In the chapter “New Frames,” the third-person narrator describes Richard via his now ex-wife Debra’s perspective because this is how Richard has come to see himself. Ever since Debra left and divorced him, Richard has felt incapable of doing anything right; even his efforts to support the family financially pale in comparison to Debra’s more comprehensive devotion to their daughters. In this moment, Richard is struggling to reconcile his desire for independence with his ex-wife’s judgments of his behavior, and this conflict conveys a different angle on The Tension Between Personal Autonomy and Familial Expectations.

“How long would this go on? Was Phoebe home for the whole summer? And if she was, what would she be doing? Obviously, she should get a job, said Dan. But how and where? She wouldn’t talk about her plans. She didn’t talk at all. All they knew was Phoebe had spent a year living with Chris, and now they weren’t together. What next?”

This passage of embedded dialogue between Dan and Melanie conveys their worry and concern for their daughter Phoebe when she fails to meet their expectations. Dan and Melanie are accustomed to having their high-functioning, passionate daughter return home and take care of everything on their behalf while she is in town. Thus, when she starts sleeping every day and refusing to communicate with them, she destabilizes their sense of order. The embedded dialogue illustrates the couple’s private bemusement as they try to devise a way to alter their daughter’s behavior—in a selfish attempt to restore their own peace of mind.

“Lily’s classmates know that she was late, but they have already forgotten. That’s how it is when you are dancing. You only think what you are doing now. You breathe. You bend and you come up again. You stand with your chest open and your shoulders back. Line up in threes to practice leaps. Wait in your corner and lift your wings to fly.”

Ballet offers Lily a way to escape her otherwise uncontrollable circumstances. Ever since her parents split up, she has felt desperate to leave her life and its associated troubles and live in an alternate era. Throughout “Ambrose,” she retreats into the fantasy world of her amateur novel about a girl who turns into a swan. At the end of the chapter, she metaphorically becomes this character herself when she gives herself over to dance; this pastime offers her a way to access a transformative experience, taking a break from her worldly concerns and entering a new plane of existence.

“Helen was not bitter. She did not covet other people’s grandchildren—nor did she indulge in wishful thinking about her childless daughters. She never asked herself, What if Pam had married? What if Wendy had found a man? No, Helen did not indulge in alternate history. […] She did not dwell in possibility.”

The use of negation in this passage creates an embittered tone that mirrors Helen’s state of mind. The narrator ironically asserts that Helen is not bitter, but the character’s entire consciousness is consumed by thoughts of things she does not do, and this pattern implies that Helen is in fact fully consumed by “covetous” thoughts and “wishful thinking.” Indeed, much of her anger toward Sylvia results from her resentment and jealousy of her sister, who seems to have everything that Helen does not. The passage also further examines The Challenges of Navigating Family Conflicts.

“Somehow, she was fated to say what people needed—not what they wanted to hear. […] She thought about those sour orange kumquats in Great Jewish Ideas where her class learned Maimonides’s Eight Degrees of Charity. The lowest level was to give when asked; the higher levels involved giving to others when they did not ask or even know their benefactor. ‘So, the less said the better,’ she murmured.”

Helen’s internal monologue in this passage conveys her desire to change. Instead of simply dismissing her husband and rabbi’s recommendations that she change how she interacts with others, Helen takes their advice to heart. As she considers her penchant for speaking her mind and decides to alter her behavior, this passage notes the beginning of her internal transformation. In subsequent passages and chapters, Helen makes herself more amenable to others by refraining from passing judgment on them.

“She had opened her heart, coming out at the end of college, and when her parents answered that no, they were not happy, no, in fact, they were not proud, Jill had done what any self-respecting person would. She had shut her heart again to carry elsewhere. For whatever reason, even at fifty-three, Wendy could not manage this. Family was her addiction. She could not stop loving them.”

Jill’s reflections on The Challenges of Navigating Family Conflicts provide insight into her wife Wendy’s relationships with her family. Whereas Jill set a firm boundary with her family after they rejected her for being gay, Wendy continues to open herself to her sister Pam’s ridicule and indifference. Jill does not understand Wendy’s inability to “manage” her family, but she remains supportive of her wife. She understands that showing the family love is a vitally important part of Wendy’s identity.

“‘No, she wanted to nurse that bird back to health! She always wanted something to take care of. She was very sweet,’ Pam added dreamily.”

Pam’s childhood anecdote about Wendy and the bird furthers the novel’s focus on The Myriad Forms of Love and Caregiving. Ever since Wendy was a little girl, she has only wanted to devote herself to others. As an adult, she continues sacrificing her own comfort in order to care for her family members, remaining undeterred whenever they disregard or diminish her efforts. Wendy’s marked capacity for self-sacrificial love makes her an example to her relatives, who often have trouble navigating their complex family dynamics.

“Their daughter, once so directed, then so fragile, was now busking full-time with her boyfriend. Once they had worried Phoebe had given up on music, never to play her violin again. Now music was all she did. Melanie and Dan had been proactive. They had been supportive. They had spoken gently and harshly to their daughter. We want you to be happy, Melanie said. We’ve already paid your tuition, Dan put in. Then Melanie made him stop. I’m gonna kill him, Dan said of Phoebe’s boyfriend, and Melanie said, It’s not just him. It’s her.”

Dan and Melanie’s inability to come to terms with Phoebe’s new carefree lifestyle underscores The Tension Between Personal Autonomy and Familial Expectations. Dan and Melanie’s dialogue conveys how variable their desires for their daughter actually are; at times they worry that she is not playing her violin, while at others they fear she is playing too much. Phoebe has learned that she cannot keep changing herself to fit their ever-shifting whims and hopes for her; instead, she chooses to forge her own path even though it conflicts with her parents’ ideas for her life.

“Dan and Steve were sidelined—but they would make their comeback. They would return for dinner, and more singing. They who had not suffered compared to other people. They who had grown up free.”

The Passover holiday disrupts Dan and Steve’s peace of mind because the brothers cannot celebrate the holiday without remembering their late father’s suffering decades ago. Because their father was a Holocaust survivor, this holiday took on a deep angst and sadness in the family’s psyche, and even today, this sorrowful, unspoken tradition continues to taint the holiday and impact the general mood. In this passage, however, the brothers begin to make peace with the past and the future. Instead of mourning the past, they are learning to celebrate their blessings—namely, their own freedom. In this way, they are more appropriately honoring their inheritance and their autonomy.

“She wanted Jamie to reach for her. She wanted Jamie to want her, so she held back. She had such height and elegance. Even in her filthy state, she acted like a queen.”

In “Sheba,” the third-person narrator inhabits the consciousness of the dog Sheba to add nuance to The Myriad Forms of Love and Caregiving. After Jamie temporarily loses the dog in the city, she feels so guilty that she tries resigning as a dogwalker. However, this passage reveals that Jamie is essential to Sheba’s vitality and well-being. The dog loves Jamie because Jamie loves her. The way the dog thinks about their dynamic also provides insight into the novel’s human-to-human relationships, where humility and pride intersect.

“As a kid, he had wondered when his mother’s scrutiny would stop. When he went to college? When he married? When he became a father? When he made partner? He turned to his stepfather. ‘I’ll always be an only child.’ ‘And I’ll always be your only mother,’ Sylvia said.”

Richard’s internal monologue in this scene conveys how deeply his familial relationships have impacted his sense of self. Now a middle-aged man, Richard still feels burdened by his mother Sylvia’s judgments. The string of questions he asks himself creates an anxious, irritable tone that mirrors his state of mind. At the same time, the characters’ closing remarks imply that Sylvia’s neurotic concern for Richard is born of her deep love for him.

“But Lily heard vines growing all around her. Over and around her bed, they twined like thorny fairytale roses. She lay still with her eyes closed, surrounded by the woody sound, and she needed nothing. She missed no one. She was safe and dreaming. Hidden for a hundred years.”

When Wyatt plays his cello for Lily to help her fall asleep, he is showing her love and care in his own way. Although everyone else in the house is confused and disturbed by the late-night music, Lily takes comfort in it, feeling that the music transports her to a fabled land of safety and “dreaming.” The use of simile and hyperbole in this passage celebrates Lily’s imaginative mind and illustrates her youthful longing to escape into fairy tales.

“Grandma Sylvia looks at Lily, and so does her dad. Everyone is looking at her, and Lily thinks she should tell the truth. Admit she got so hungry that she couldn’t help herself. But she is too embarrassed—and she is watching Sophie’s face. It’s a test! Was it real, what she promised? If the vow is binding, Sophie won’t tell on Lily. Scared, excited, eager, Lily waits. Sophie doesn’t say a word.”

Sophie’s decision not to tattle on Lily for eating Sylvia’s honey cake marks a turning point in the sisters’ relationship. The passage also directly illustrates The Challenges of Navigating Family Conflicts. After discussing Sylvia and Helen’s years-long conflict, Sophie and Lily have just made a pact to remain true to one another and never to betray each other. Their newfound loyalty helps them to find a way through their family tensions, offering them strength and confidence.

“Richard and Debra recited together, his voice gentle, hers hurt and furious. He knew what she was thinking. He could hear her say it. Really? Our daughter’s Bat Mitzvah teacher? And he was a terrible person. Wrong as always.”

The third-person narrator inhabits Richard’s consciousness during Lily’s Bat Mitzvah to reiterate the fact that he still defines himself according to Debra’s opinions of him. As soon as Debra notices Richard and Heather making eye contact, Richard panics, certain that she has discovered the truth of his new relationship and is judging him for it. Amidst his daughter’s Bat Mitzvah ceremony, he struggles to focus on Lily because he is so consumed by his anxieties over Debra. The moment reiterates The Tension Between Personal Autonomy and Familial Expectations, for Richard is still struggling to claim his autonomy in light of his ex-wife’s expectations.

“She knew they were together, and that was a relief. Actually, that was exactly what he wanted. There would be trouble. It would be awkward; it might be awful for a little while, but so much joy was waiting on the other side.”

Richard’s internal monologue in this passage creates a hopeful, determined tone. Despite Richard’s earlier concern about Debra’s potential anger over his and Heather’s relationship, he decides not to allow Debra’s discontent to shadow his positive dynamic with his new love interest. The passage’s optimistic tone implies that Richard is experiencing a change of heart and is now ready to claim his new life without shame.

“And yet, despite Andrea’s unfortunate heritage, she and Steve remained together. Were they happy? Yes, of course. They were at least as happy as everybody else. And why was happiness the criterion, anyway? […] As a couple, Steve and Andrea had staying power—a virtue Jeanne had prized more than youth, beauty, or joy. And why not?”

Andrea’s internal monologue in this passage creates a halting, doubtful tone. Although she asserts that she and Steve are happy, the use of a question-and-answer structure conveys her uncertainty. Andrea is trying to convince herself that what she and Steve have is more stable and lasting than “youth, beauty, or joy” because she fears that her family legacy might shadow her personal life.

“No one had told Debra to stay home and do everything; that came from her. Nothing compelled her but her conscience and her common sense. When the girls were babies, she had given up free time and exercise. When they were older, she gave up her job, because she could not work the kind of hours Richard did and see her children while they were awake. […] And because those were years you could not get back and because she hoped someday she would return, if not to law, to something new.”

After Debra and Richard divorce and after Richard settles down with Heather, Debra experiences a crisis of identity. With Heather in her daughters’ lives, Debra finds herself with more time, and she struggles to embrace her newfound freedom because she has “stayed home and done everything” for her family for so many years. The latter lines of the passage imply that Debra wants to be able to reclaim her independence but is unsure how to do so. This internal conflict reiterates The Tension Between Personal Autonomy and Familial Expectations.

“‘Fine! I’ll cut it.’ He said this, but cut nothing. He typed just what he had written—not because it was good, but because it was true. I still believe in art. I still believe in poetry. Cogent prose is the one resource we lack, and yet, clear writing is as important as fresh water and clean energy. He reread these words and sent the email.”

Steve’s verbose, eloquent email to Jeff conveys his longing to prove himself as a writer. Although he tells Andrea that he will take her suggestions and edit the email, Steve decides not to do so because the email is a manifestation of his heart. Steve is experiencing a mid-life crisis; he feels compelled to reinvent himself when he loses his publishing job, so he relies upon grand principles to inspire his artistic quest.

“He should be fixing Subarus. He should have gone into insurance like his brother—but no, he had become a poet, contemplating other kinds of loss. Was that a problem? No! he told himself. Come on! He could be a poet still. Nobody was stopping him. Nothing was getting in his way.”

Steve’s penchant for hopefulness allows him to retain his dreams and pursue his long-held artistic ambitions. Although Steve is discouraged about the ghostwriting gig, he does not want to abandon his writerly aspirations altogether. His stream of consciousness veers from despondency to optimism as he tries to decide what he wants and who he wants to become. Steve is essentially grappling with new ways to claim his autonomy while remaining supportive of his family.

“Sophie’s eyes were framed with long false lashes. You can be anything you want to be! Debra told her silently. Go on! Become an astronaut. A research scientist. A doctor. And yet she looked so lovely with her flowers. Hopeful, innocent, determined. How could Debra pull her from the studio?”

Debra’s observations of her daughter after the ballet convey how desperately she wants to support her children despite her internal conflict. The images of the “false lashes” and the “flowers” convey a lighthearted, feminine energy, while the references to “astronauts,” “scientists,” and “doctors” reflect Debra’s preference that her girls pursue a more challenging life path. Although Debra wants her daughters to rise to new heights, she fears quashing their hopeful, innocent determination with her own judgments, so she makes the choice to remain silent in this moment out of love.

“Why does she say this? Why does she say anything? Pam learned long ago not to confide in her parents, but now she’s blushing, and it’s not the wine. It’s happiness. Here she is whipping out her phone to show them a photo of Isabella’s painting. The portrait of John, radiant with his green eyes and the glowing dome of his pink forehead.”

In this scene, Pam’s interaction with her parents, Helen and Charles, conveys her desire to be seen, understood, and loved. For years, Pam has kept her parents at a distance, fearing their ridicule and judgment. In this scene, she opens up to them about John and Isabella and is surprised to experience happiness as a result. The passage implies that showing vulnerability is essential to cultivating lasting intimacy in familial relationships.

“‘What are you thinking?’ Pam asks, although she can imagine. Helen is thinking that John was a mirage and there won’t be an instant granddaughter. Not even a granddaughter once removed, a step-granddaughter, a granddaughter by adoption. Helen says none of this, however. She asks, ‘Why don’t you come here for the weekend?’”

Helen’s internal monologue contrasts with her lines of dialogue in this passage, conveying how drastically she has changed. Although Helen has a litany of things she wants to say to Pam about her relationship with John and her hopes of embracing Isabella as a granddaughter, she withholds these remarks out of love and welcomes Pam back to her home.