“She had married Colm Davis soon after Dad was gone—not because it made her happy, but because, according to Liam, she was scared she wouldn’t be able to provide for herself and her two kids.”

This backstory about Mairin’s mother’s hasty wedding to Colm Davis highlights the traditional roles for women, especially Irish Catholic women, which have such a strong influence on the demands put upon Mairin. The social and cultural restrictions cause particular tension in light of the countercultural revolution taking place in the US in the 1960s, which informs the setting of the novel and speaks to The Cost of Contravening Social Norms.

“‘Wait, you mean that’s what you have to do?’ Mairin was aghast. ‘You have to give it away? To strangers? Like you’ll never see your own child?’”

Forced adoption occurs several times throughout the novel, and each time causes a painful separation and a rift in the birth mother’s identity. Here, Mairin realizes The Cost of Contravening Social Norms when she learns that Fiona, as an unwed mother, will be forced to give up her child for adoption even though she does not want to. Fiona’s plight speaks to the heavy taboos around single motherhood and the policing of women’s sexuality at the time.

“The house didn’t seem safe anymore, not the way it had when Dad was alive.”

Colm’s attack on Mairin is one of many instances of violence perpetrated on women by men, especially men in positions of power. This episode signifies the end of Mairin’s innocence and will catapult her into the restrictive environments of the Good Shepherd. Mairin’s reflection that the house no longer seems “safe” speaks to her vulnerabilities as a young woman who has little status or voice in her social milieu, which is highly patriarchal.

“If it feels wrong, it is wrong.”

This instruction that Liam gives Mairin about how to protect herself becomes a motif in the novel. The counsel to trust herself is key to Mairin’s enduring sense of independence, considering authorities like her mother and the nuns at the Good Shepherd insist they know what is best for Mairin. This trust in her own instincts will prove her salvation in several respects, adding to the novel’s larger argument that obedience to authority isn’t always in one’s best interests.

“It was a place frozen in time, an ancient fortress haunted by echoes that whispered against the gray stone in a mysterious, heavy rhythm.”

This first image of the Good Shepherd Home foreshadows the associations Mairin will find true to the place: The attachment to centuries-old rules and restrictions, its monolithic and unbudging inflexibility, and the oppressive atmosphere of life there. This passage establishes the place as cold, dark, and constricting, turning the Home into the embodiment of The Legacy of Institutionalized Violence.

“The betrayal by her mother moved through Mairin like a sudden frost. In the deep center of her soul, the truth froze into a hard, cold stone of certainty. She wasn’t a bad girl. She didn’t need to be reformed or turned from a sinful past. They were leaving her at this place because Colm couldn’t be trusted to leave her alone.”

Mairin understands right away the cruelty inherent in the decision to send her away because her mother doesn’t trust Mairin’s stepfather, and fears she is at risk of sexual assault. Mairin’s diction in this passage speaks to how harsh her unjust punishment is; the “sudden frost” she feels and the truth that “froze into a hard, cold stone” speaks to the lack of compassion she is experiencing. Her insistence that she “wasn’t a bad girl” echoes the novel’s title, undercutting the idea that she is a “wayward” girl. Her unfair treatment speaks to The Cost of Contravening Social Norms for young women who speak up against abuse.

“A fist connected with her ear, causing her head to ring and her vision to blur. Mairin gasped, her hand flying to her burning ear. Tears welled up in her eyes, not just from the blow but from the realization that she was now a resident of this place.”

The physical blow from Sister Rotrude, who strikes her, is as painful as Mairin’s realization that she is not leaving the Home of the Good Shepherd any time soon. This passage captures both the physical and emotional violence that are used as tactics to subdue the girls, forming part of the novel’s exploration of The Legacy of Institutional Violence.

“The nuns of the Good Shepherd were supposed to be preparing the girls for independent living when they reached eighteen, but what they actually did was make them scared to face the world.”

Angela’s reflection captures the central tragedy of the book in that this institution, which is meant to deliver guidance and support, has become a place of repression and violence, which leaves the girls with a legacy of trauma rather than life skills. The bad effects of the Home’s mistreatment speaks to The Legacy of Institutionalized Violence.

“The act of rebellion gave them some kind of odd team spirit, a sense of shared purpose. When the last girl was done, they stood around in the shower room, regarding the pile of hair in all colors and textures, all different lengths.”

The girls’ act of cutting their hair becomes a moment of solidarity and resistance to the oppressive conditions under which they live, a way to try to defy those who would punish them. The combined hair becomes a metaphor for their shared experience and the way they have bonded together.

“This had begun to feel like her world. The work, the harsh discipline, the isolation, the deprivation felt normal. She was beginning to forget that she loved to learn and strive for high goals, that she dreamed of a life that was expansive and filled with adventure.”

Helen’s experience shows the effects of continuing deprivation on the spirit as she feels herself beginning to adapt to her circumstances. Her former dreams represent the freedom and opportunity she wishes she had but which life at the Good Shepherd is denying her. Helen’s chapter adds yet another perspective on the harm the girls are suffering at the Home.

“One’s no better than the other, but it’s a lot easier to be a dandelion. The artichoke has a harder path.”

Her father’s metaphor comparing these two different plants, the dandelion and the artichoke, becomes a lesson in resilience for Mairin. This comparison forms a motif in the novel as Mairin remembers at other points that the hardy dandelion, a weed, can flourish where a delicate plant like the artichoke will struggle.

“It’s the Lord’s work […] to be a beacon to those who have lost their way. That is the mission of this place—bringing you girls real hope for a brighter future.”

Bernadette’s conviction that the purpose of the Home of the Good Shepherd is charitable work is an ironic contrast to the reality of abuse the girls suffer. In contrast to the younger girls, Bernadette offers the perspective of a character who has found safety, security, and shelter inside these walls.

“Cookie said she’d get her figure back, but no one explained how Fiona would get herself back. She would never be that girl again. She would never get herself back. She would get a different girl, put together in a totally different way.”

Fiona’s sense that she has been changed by childbirth, and fundamentally damaged by the forced adoption of her child, fits with the novel’s portrayal of pregnancy and childbirth as painful but ultimately magical and transformative. This portrayal of forced adoption as emotional abuse fits with the larger theme about The Legacy of Institutionalized Violence.

“Let her do her worst […] I just had a baby that died. Nothing worse can happen to me, ever.”

This is Angela’s statement after she returns from the hospital, having been told—falsely—that her daughter was stillborn. Angela’s experience of denied motherhood mirrors that of Deirdre and Fiona, reflecting The Legacy of Institutionalized Violence.

“It was a sin. It was salvation. Instead of reforming her character as the nuns had promised her mother, this place had turned her into an unrepentant thief.”

The paradox of sin as salvation continues one of the structural ironies of the book, that the Home of the Good Shepherd hurts girls more than helping them. In a further irony, Mairin reflects in this passage that the “salvation” of escape, for her, will be earned by the crime of theft.

“Maybe she was exactly what the nuns had called her and all the others, over and over again—a wayward girl.”

Mairin’s thoughts on being a supposed “wayward girl” bring up the conflicting associations that are a fundamental part of the Good Shepherd experience. The nuns use strict discipline to force the girls to adhere to specific rules and norms, but being “wayward” means having her own ideals, goals, and personality, which Mairin cherishes.

“I’m not young […] Not after that. I’ll never be young again.”

Mairin is only 16, but her declaration to Flynn shows how the trauma of her stay at the Good Shepherd has caused lasting damage. This passage provides foreshadowing for Mairin’s sense in the opening of Book 2 that she needs to address this lasting trauma if she wants to truly heal, foreshadowing her experience of The Healing Power of Accepting the Past.

“She stood across from her mother, her feelings a jumble of contradictions—affection and resentment, yearning and revulsion, love and disappointment.”

One frequent motif in the book is motherhood and the love and protection a mother is supposed to feel toward her offspring. In contrast, Mairin’s feelings when she confronts her mother after she leaves the Good Shepherd are complicated and contradictory, as she both loves her mother and resents her for having sent her away.

“There was no VA program for girls who had been tormented by nuns. And so, memories lived inside her like a cold, dark hole of nothingness.”

This passage captures how the kind of trauma Mairin and her friends experienced isn’t widely recognized and, without appropriate methods to process and heal, these wounds continue to be painful for Mairin. The image of the memories as a “dark hole” recalls the closet where she was imprisoned.

“Despite the daily joy of her family life, there was a place in the past that was still an unhealed wound. […] She was usually able to ignore the shadows, but sometimes she would take the memories out in private and ask herself why.”

The opening of Part 5 of the book, in Book 2, titled “Now,” addresses the trauma that Mairin still experiences 50 years later. Mairin realizes that her experiences remain “an unhealed wound.” Confronting the past with the help of the others speaks to the novel’s larger theme of The Healing Power of Accepting the Past.

“In the company of Angela and Odessa, [Mairin] felt curiously at ease in a way she didn’t around anyone else. With these women, she didn’t have to try to explain about the year of darkness. They just knew.”

Mairin notes the comfort she feels being with the girls who were her support during her year of trauma, as they help her with The Healing Power of Accepting the Past. While the two Books balance a look at the group of friends then and now, the contrast shows their threads of enduring support and connection, forming a narrative continuity.

“We lifted those girls out of the gutter of evil and helped them find their way to redemption. That’s the work we did, and were pride not a sin, I would take pride in our accomplishments.”

Sister Rotrude’s attitude, which she continues to hold in Book 2, reinforces The Legacy of Institutionalized Violence, as Sister Rotrude refuses to take accountability for the harm she inflicted. Sister Rotrude’s strict ideas about sin and suffering, and her belief in the path to redemption, help explain why she believes that the harsh discipline and abuse was a corrective to help the girls avoid sin. Bernadette’s more conflicted attitude and doubts provide a middle ground between Sister Rotrude’s beliefs and the girls’ experience.

“Everly didn’t really know why she yearned to know more. She just did. She had never been able to quell the need for a connection to a hidden past.”

A narrative theme that connects Books 1 and 2 of the novel is the bond between biological mothers and their children, which helps unite Angela and Everly in the end. Everly thus has her own experience with The Healing Power of Accepting the Past, as she feels a “need” to understand her path in order to move forward. The discovery of Everly’s pre-adoption birth certificate also clears up the mystery established in the Prologue.