Warlight

Rose Williams is the mother of Nathaniel and Rachel and works as a civilian spy for British Intelligence. She represents female agency and the tensions between love and duty as she devotes herself to her family and work. She is introduced in the novel as a warm woman who is close with her children and aware of their emotional needs. Nathaniel recalls when he and Rachel would sneak into her bedroom at the crack of dawn, assured that “whatever the hour, she was always awake, ready for us” (10). In contrast to his father’s coldness, symbolized in the “uncomfortable iron garden chair” (1) that he sits in, Nathaniel’s mother recognizes the children’s shock when they learn that their parents must leave, and she physically comforts them. Nathaniel writes, “After a while [my mother] took my sister Rachel’s hand and held it against her waist, as if she could give it warmth” (1). Nathaniel remembers, “[S]eeing that I was confused, she came over to me and ran her fingers like a comb through my hair” (2). Nathaniel emphasizes his memories of Rose’s physical touch as a juxtaposition to her eventual disappearance and ghostly presence in his adult life. For Nathaniel, his mother’s abandonment, though temporary, instilled a lack of trust and security that persisted in his adulthood.

Rose’s identity is the central mystery in the novel, and Nathaniel never fully uncovers his mother’s past. Her work as a spy makes her character fundamentally unknowable, as her core self can never be fully separated from her many personas. In this way, she embodies the unknowability of the past and punctures the myth of a singular “true” identity. In the only physical description of her in the novel, she appears in a photograph as a teenager with her blond hair obscuring her face as she balances on one foot to put on a shoe. Nathaniel concedes that this may be the most accurate portrait of his mother, “[t]his almost anonymous person, balanced awkwardly, holding on to her own safety. Already incognito” (12). Nathaniel recognizes his mother by her stance, and her physical position of balancing symbolizes her multifaceted motivations and desires.

The Moth, whose real name is Walter, is Rose’s colleague and a lodger in the Williams’ home who becomes the children’s guardian. Nathaniel describes him as a “humble man, large but moth-like in his shy movements” (2). Despite their suspicion that he may be a criminal, the siblings provide a comic description of his “[t]hick black horizontal eyebrows. A large though friendly stomach. His big honker” (18), suggesting The Moth is more approachable than they assume. They give him the nickname The Moth because of “his tentative presence, of his alighting here and there” (6). Nathaniel never feels safe around him, and The Moth’s ambiguous and secretive character provides suspense to the novel. Only after his death do Nathaniel and readers learn that The Moth not only protected the siblings, but died saving their lives.

In contrast to the siblings’ initial characterization, The Moth represents discretion, gentleness, and security. Unbeknownst to Nathaniel, The Moth had taken care of Rachel and regularly took her to the hospital to treat her epilepsy. Rachel considers Walter a father figure and names her child after him. She scolds Nathaniel and proclaims, “He cared about us. You had no idea what was happening. He was the one protecting us. […]You managed to ignore what our parents had done to us” (146). Nathaniel’s ignorance of The Moth’s significance in his sister’s life is one of many instances where he doubts the veracity of his memory of the past. The Moth recalls Nathaniel’s repressed memory of a pet cat, and the symbolism of his name alludes to his association with light and the truth.

As a civilian spy, the Moth’s identity is as elusive as Rose’s, though his work at the Criterion closely aligns him with working class politics. Working with “mostly immigrant staff […] who would never be seen by the evening’s guests” (19), The Moth is an advocate for social welfare and was known for supporting unions, relieving food shortages, and speaking “disapprovingly of the advance of capitalism” (18). Despite his work in politics and intelligence during and after the war, Nathaniel observes that “The Moth was never ‘war-like’ in demeanour” (7) and enjoyed quietly playing the piano. Like Rose and her many axes of identities, The Moth “was a man of many doors” (20). The tragedy of his death lies in Nathaniel’s ignorance of all the good Walter achieved while Nathaniel unjustly suspected him of being a criminal.

Norman Marshall, better known as The Pimlico Darter, is a former boxer, greyhound smuggler, and secret government agent responsible for transporting explosives during and after the war. As The Moth’s complementary opposite, he is “tall and slim” (50), “dedicated to quickness” (35), and prone to “risk taking” (79). Nathaniel considers The Darter “an easy man to learn from. He cared less about you than The Moth did, but told you precisely what he needed you to do, as well as what about him was to be kept from others” (74). For Nathaniel, The Darter’s brash directness is a welcome trait that lightens Nathaniel’s traumatic upbringing. At the beginning of the novel, The Darter represents irreverence, spontaneity, and transgression, and he becomes both a figurative and literal father for Nathaniel when he teaches him independence and masquerades as his father for Agnes. Nathaniel regards him as his “wild, unreliable hero” and “teacher” (267) who taught him how to navigate the chaotic post-war world.

The Darter gets his nickname from his days as a boxer, and the moniker refers to his ability to anticipate his opponent and move in and out of danger. As a smuggler and fixer of dog races, The Darter’s illegal activities required stealth and a survival strategy of how to “breast your cards” (74). Nathaniel and Rachel get the impression that The Darter is evasive and hard to pin down, as evident in the number of women who come by their house looking for him. Though the siblings consider him “incorrigible” (98), and Olive regards him as “an almost extinct medieval species, a person still unaware of any of the principal courtesies introduced in the past hundred years” (48), a different version of The Darter appears at the end of novel. As Norman Marshall, he is a supportive husband and father and lives in a tidy home. Like many of the characters in the novel, The Darter represents the duality of identity and the incompleteness of Nathaniel’s impressions of the people around him.

Agnes is Nathaniel’s first love and a symbol of responsibility, perseverance, and longing. She is 17, lives with her working-class parents, and has worked since she was 14. She and Nathaniel sneak into vacant real estate listings, and she introduces him to sex, love, and a code of compassion. Nathaniel recalls, “She argued at dishonesty or unfairness. She was truthful. You did not damage others. What a wondrous code to already have at that age” (274).

Agnes’s maturity provides Nathaniel with a model of responsible youth, and he imagines that he, Agnes, and The Darter are “a believable family unit” (105). With Agnes, Nathaniel finds a free spirit guided by principles of honesty and humanity.

Agnes joins Nathaniel and The Darter on their barge and revels in the freedom of their journeys as a salve to her restricted life. Nathaniel describes her as a girl “tethered to just what was allowed her by class and lack of money, a world she’d probably never leave, who had sadly recited that dream of the pearl” (107). Likewise, The Darter describes her as a “too-caged greyhound” (105), a metaphor for the suppression of her hopes and aspirations. Nathaniel contrasts her “wildness and sense of adventure” (103) with her gentle treatment of her quiet parents in their small council flat. Agnes sleeps on a mattress she carries nightly into their living room, and the image of her homelife connotes responsibility and hardship. The trysts she and Nathaniel have in the vacant listings represent her longing to escape the limitations of her class. Agnes takes art courses in her limited spare time and wishes for a “large pearl” (101), a symbol of the means to find security and comfort.

Agnes’s story ends with a bittersweet note as Nathaniel imagines she has found her “pearl” in her daughter and new life with The Darter, but the couple still struggles to make ends meet.

In his single-minded pursuit to uncover his mother’s past, Nathaniel neglected to examine his own acts of abandonment and damage and the challenges Agnes faced as a young, unwed mother after the war. He confesses, “What was happening to them was the real story, while I still existed only in the maze of my mother’s life” (275). Agnes represents one of the many untold stories that compose the constellation of Nathaniel’s life. Through Agnes, he realizes that the answers to his past do not lie solely in the actions of others, but in accountability for his own actions.

Sam Malakite is Rose Williams’s neighbor and confidante when she returns to White Paint after her mission. Nathaniel bonds with Sam during his visits to Suffolk and describes him as “the most easygoing and stable person I’d encountered” (158). Sam represents stability, integrity, and empathy, and he provides Nathaniel with the sense of security missing from his earlier youth. Sam is described as “oak strong” (136) and having an “ox-like stature” (135), and the references to nature highlight Sam’s harmony with all living things, from the plants he grows to the animals in his fields.

Like The Darter, Sam functions as a father figure during a time when Nathaniel and his mother’s relationship is strained by distrust and secrecy. However, Sam is also a foil to The Darter, as he is not a member of British Intelligence, makes an honest living as a farmer, and does not withhold information about his mother’s death. With Sam, Nathaniel feels “those indistinct maps from childhood now became reliable and exact” (137). As an adult, Nathaniel purchases the Malakites’ property and finds security in the home of his mentor, protector, and friend. Sam’s last name alludes to the mineral, malachite, a green stone historically believed to ward off evil and protect children from harm.

Marsh Felon is Rose Williams’s childhood friend and mentor who recruits her into British Intelligence. She first meets Felon when she is eight and he 16, and their friendship develops from a shared interest in books and nature, two motifs that highlight the novel’s themes of storytelling and interdependent perspectives. Felon’s eclectic background includes experience as a thatcher, stegophilist or building climber, naturalist, and “Gatherer” (210), or recruiter, for the secret service. His diverse background highlights the various talents of civilian spies during and after the war. When he hears the naturalist on his radio program, Nathaniel remarks, “Felon is also a double-sided mirror” (231). The description suggests that Felon, as his name implies, played a duplicitous role in Rose’s life.

Felon becomes a father figure to Rose during her father’s frequent absences in her adolescence, and their professional relationship leads to Rose’s complicated life and their brief sexual affair. Nathaniel negotiates two versions of Marsh Felon in his mind. In one, he is a morally ambiguous character who may be responsible for corrupting Rose, disrupting her family, and inadvertently causing her death. In another version, Rose is self-aware, has complete agency, and makes her own decisions. Since he never speaks to Felon, Nathaniel must rely on his imagined reconstructions to create a version of Felon and his mother that is truthful to him.

Olive Lawrence is a geographer, ethnographer, and The Darter’s former girlfriend. She befriends Nathaniel and Rachel and assuages their insecurities and fears. Worldly and sensitive, Olive recognizes the children’s vulnerability and represents empathy, confidence, and an interconnected worldview. She fulfills the archetype of the teacher and instills the lesson that “[y]our own story is just one, and perhaps not the important one” (53), an approach Nathaniel adopts by the end of the novel. Her attention and expertise in interpreting warning signs in the weather and the nocturnal sounds of tiny creatures mirrors her ability to gauge the emotional states and unspoken anxieties of the children. Nathaniel credits her for making him feel seen. He recollects, “In the brief time I knew her, I believed Olive Lawrence was on my side. I stood there and was perceived” (260). Nathaniel learns that Olive was sent by his mother to check on him and Rachel, and she functions as a maternal substitute. Olive reappears at the end of the novel in her civilian persona as an author and documentarian of her world travels. Now a storyteller by trade, Olive represents the enchanting power of narrating the world from specific places and ecosystems to demonstrate the balance of nature.