Train Dreams

Grainier develops in complexity in these chapters, and this shift is reflected structurally through lengthier chapters that outline the tragedy of the fire and emphasize his grief. These vignettes are situated in the middle of the narrative, and they are similarly the center of Grainier’s life story. The narrative also continues to emphasize the gap between how he sees himself—“cowardly and selfish” because he leaves William Coswell Haley to die (35)—and his true character, which proves to be compassionate, brave, and selfless in many other ways. He selflessly searches for his missing family, living a meager existence, and in the course of his errands, he transports people in need of medical attention. This harsh life has also worn Grainier down physically, and he feels the effects of his years of laboring in the logging and railroad industries. Along with his many physical ailments, “a general stiffness of his frame worked itself out by halves through most mornings, and he labored like an engine through the afternoons, but he was well past thirty-five years, closer now to forty” (58). Frontier life has rendered Grainier an old man at what is now considered a young age. His physical deterioration mirrors his emotional struggles with grief as both his mind and his body toil to survive a solitary existence.

Grainier’s isolation further highlights the theme of The Symbiosis of Grief and Solitude. Initially, although he knows that his wife and child must have perished in the fire, he still hopes for their return. Consequently, he endures a solitary existence, first by the river and then in a new cabin at the site of their old home. “Sickened by his natural grief” (43), he endures nightmares, senses Glady’s spirit, and imagines seeing her favorite chocolates and her bonnet. In his grief and desperation, his mind conjures up these images. Later, when the dog that befriends him gives birth to pups, Grainier tries to teach it how to howl like the wolves. When it stays silent, Grainier himself raises his voice: “He laid his head back and howled for all he was worth, because it did him good. It flushed out something heavy that tended to collect in his heart, and after […] he felt warm and buoyant” (53). Grainier needs an outlet for his grief and finds it in communal howling with wolves, highlighting his need to break out of his solitude in order to move beyond his grief. Grainier’s solitude is not just emotional, but physical, for when he helps to lift a lifeless Hank, the Pinkhams’ grandson, he realizes that “he hadn’t touched another person in several years” (61). This lack of physical contact is another manifestation of his grief—in his mourning, he has isolated himself both physically and emotionally.

Within this seclusion, Grainier experiences recollections that fuel the theme of Memory as Hindrance and Help. For Grainier, time does not lessen the pain of regret. A few years after the fire, he reflects while traveling for work. Thinking about William Coswell Haley, he notes that “rather than wearing away, Grainier’s regret at not having helped the man had grown much keener as the years had passed” (62). The more he thinks of the injured man, the worse Grainier feels. His memories only intensify his regret, reminding him of the possibility that, if he had helped Haley, the man might have lived. Memories also flood Grainier in his dreams as he catches glimpses of his childhood. Although there is nothing he explicitly regrets in these moments, he admits that “to be a child again in that other world had terrified him, and he couldn’t get back to sleep” (76). Moments later, Gladys’ spirit visits him and projects her memories of the fire, which are rife with grief and regret, for “she mourned for her daughter, whom she couldn’t find” (77). Although this is not Grainier’s recollection, he feels the burden of Gladys’s last moments when she falls to her death and lets Kate loose with the hopes that she will survive. Like his isolation, his continued return to memory fuels his grief instead of healing it.

Despite the weightiness of Grainier’s experiences, the narrative’s tone is occasionally light-hearted and humorous, as if to reinforce that there are positive aspects to life on the frontier. Sometimes, Grainier’s interactions are comical, like when he misunderstands Peterson and asks, “But why did you have Kootenai Bob tied up, and what has Kootenai Bob got to do with this, anyways?” (68). In a moment of confusion, for Peterson tells his tale over a series of starts and stops, Grainier mixes up the details. The result is an image of a man being tied to a dog’s leash, and humor momentarily lightens the tragedy that pervades the narrative.