“Plus, her father loved it, which is the main reason Anna chose it for the night’s journey. It serves as a reminder to the others of all that had been taken from her.”

Anna associates the Philadelphia Phoenix with her father, which makes the setting emotionally impactful for her and the conspirators. The Phoenix is also a symbol of power, and Anna wants the setting to serve as a reminder of the power taken from her and her family. Her choice dramatizes The Difference Between Revenge and Justice. Anna reshapes her father’s dream into a stage where past crimes demand present reckoning.

“Other than diamond studs in her ears, the only accessory she wears is a single lapel pin that belonged to her father.”

Sager introduces the symbol of the train pin in the first chapter. The pin is the only jewelry that Anna wears to prevent anyone grabbing onto her, but she insists on the pin as, like the train itself, it reminds her of her father. The pin symbolizes guilt, and Anna wears it to remind the conspirators of the guilt they ought to feel for destroying her family. The pin fuses intimacy and accusation, making it a material emblem of how the past clings to the present and refuses release.

“The invitation only details the trip to Chicago. There’s no mention of how they’re supposed to get back home.”

Sager frequently ends the chapters of With a Vengeance with an ominous tone to heighten the narrative tension. The one-way nature of the train journey mirrors Anna’s inability to view the future past the end of her plan for justice. The one-way journey also literalizes the theme of guilt, redemption, and the weight of the past, as the conspirators can only move deeper into their reckoning, with no safe passage back to normalcy.

“But it’s not Grauer Geist coming to haunt her. It’s her past.”

Edith’s fear of the Grauer Geist, the ghost that haunts her family, demonstrates her fear of her own past. Edith can live frugally and pretend to be the same person she was before the events of 1942, but the reality is that she is fundamentally changed by her immoral past actions. Sager transforms folklore into metaphor, as Edith’s true ghost is guilt itself, the inescapable residue of betrayal.

“What Dante doesn’t say is that, other than himself, no one is going to enjoy seeing Anna Matheson again. This, he’s certain, won’t be a happy reunion.”

Dante is separate from the others that Anna invited for several reasons. He did not participate in the plot to destroy the Mathesons, and he yearns to see Anna again after over a decade. He knows her well enough to know her intentions and understand the basic outline of her plan. His insight highlights the double edge of reunion, as nostalgia and affection are shadowed by vengeance, complicating the boundary between loyalty and guilt.

“She assumed it was because they, like everyone else, thought her father had blood on his hands. People naturally pull away from those who’ve suffered a great loss out of fear that their bad luck is transferable and will soon upend their own placid lives.”

At first, Anna tried to see the best in the people who distanced themselves from her family, assuming that they reacted negatively because they did not want tragedy to befall them, too. However, the evidence later showed Anna the true depth of their betrayal. This reflection illustrates the isolating power of grief. What seemed like superstition concealed complicity, showing how communities exile the grieving to shield themselves from guilt.

“Anna pauses, allowing all of them to think about Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, who’d been electrocuted the previous year. She assumes they’re imagining a fatal current coursing through their own pained bodies. At least, she hopes they are.”

Sager makes a historical allusion to the Rosenbergs, two American citizens who were executed for allegedly passing on intelligence to the Soviet Union during the Cold War in 1953, to ground the narrative in its 1950s timeline. The reference to the Rosenbergs also heightens the tension for the conspirators, who could face execution for treason. The invocation of state violence also underscores the theme of the difference between revenge and justice. Private vengeance is mirrored by public punishment, and both transform the body into a spectacle of justice.

“‘I have my reasons,’ Dante replies. ‘Ones that have nothing to do with you.’”

Dante’s motivations remain mysterious for the first half of the novel, before he reveals his role in providing the evidence to Anna. Dante keeps his cards close to his chest to avoid suspicion and becoming a target. His secrecy foregrounds the novel’s obsession with hidden motives, as loyalty, betrayal, and survival blur into one another when self-preservation collides with love.

“Dante did indeed break her heart, but not nearly as much as Sal had. Anna would rather touch the cooling corpse of Judd Dodge than lay hands on Sally Lawrence.”

Anna’s visceral reaction to the idea of touching Sal demonstrates the depth of Anna’s pain about Sal and Edith’s betrayals. Anna is so hurt by their actions that she’d rather touch a corpse than check the women for poison, and this hurt informs Anna’s interactions with Sal and Edith as the narrative unfolds. The grotesque comparison equates betrayal with death itself, showing how emotional wounds can surpass even physical horror.

“Now that she finds herself trapped in a real-life murder mystery, Anna understands she must think and act like the characters in those movies. Which normally would mean not trusting the seemingly innocent stranger who just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Sager makes a metatextual reference to the murder mystery genre in Anna’s interior dialogue. Anna thinks of the mystery novels that she’s read as a guide for how to navigate the murder mystery unspooling around her. This self-awareness highlights how fiction bleeds into life. Anna’s survival requires her to inhabit archetypes, blurring the line between performance and authenticity.

“The pleasure. The guilt. The utter heartbreak when she never heard from him again, not even in the weeks that followed, when tragedy upon tragedy befell her family. The boy she loved had abandoned her when she needed him most, taking her innocence with him.”

Anna admits to having been in love with Dante when she was a teenager, which makes his betrayal sting more. In the lowest moments of her life, Anna was entirely deprived of the people who loved her (Tommy, her parents, Dante, Sal, and Edith). This moment crystallizes the theme of guilt, redemption, and the weight of the past, as love is entangled with abandonment, and every remembered joy is shadowed by betrayal.

“Never did Anna think she’d be forced to plead her innocence to the likes of Sally Lawrence, Jack Lapsford, and Herb Pulaski. They’re the guilty ones. Not her.”

The themes surrounding guilt become more complicated when the group accuses Anna of murdering Judd. Anna, who knows how guilty everyone else is of actual crimes, is offended by the implication of her own guilt. Here Sager inverts the courtroom, as the guilty become judges, forcing Anna into the absurd position of defending herself against the people who betrayed her family.

“They’re the same shape, after all, and now share the same purpose. Long narrow boxes in which the dead are laid to rest. And Herb feels like he’s trapped inside this coffin on wheels, about to be buried alive.”

Herb’s connection of the train cars to caskets foreshadows his own impending murder. It also heightens the narrative tension and highlights the claustrophobic nature of the train’s setting by creating the image of Herb being buried alive. The metaphor engages with the theme of guilt, redemption, and the weight of the past, as the train, once a vehicle of ambition, becomes a mobile tomb where past crimes entomb their perpetrators.

“‘Are you afraid of him hurting her or her hurting him?’ Sal asks. Even Anna can see that it’s a valid question. Especially now that everyone aboard the Philadelphia Phoenix knows she has a knife. ‘Both,’ Seamus says.”

Seamus’s doubts about Anna adds more credence to the suspicions surrounding Anna and the incoming murders. Anna herself has doubts about her own capacity for violence, and this uncertainty serves as a red herring, as Anna does not turn out to be the killer. The ambiguity highlights how quickly justice can be mistaken for threat, showing how vengeance destabilizes trust.

“Sally never thought one night could destroy her life—and those of so many others. Yet one did. A night she will never forget and always regret. And it had started off simply. That’s the strange part. There were no signs that something cataclysmic was on the horizon.”

Sal’s reflection on the past illustrates the difficulty of her position when it comes to Kenneth. Her options were to face social ruin because of anti-gay bias or betray her boss and his family, a choice she views as “cataclysmic,” which demonstrates the guilt she feels. Her recollection shows how ordinary choices can rupture into catastrophe, underscoring how guilt lingers long after the act itself.

“They’ve spent years grieving and raging, seething and plotting…And in a few hours…it will all be over. Justice will be served, the guilty will pay, and they’ll no longer have any need to rage, seethe, or plot. It will be a life that Anna has no idea how to live.”

A large piece of Anna’s character arc is her struggle to conceptualize the future. Without seeking justice, Anna doesn’t know how to live, and she’s uncertain what her life will look like once she reaches Chicago. The passage dramatizes the difference between revenge and justice, as Anna’s life has been wholly structured by rage, leaving her without an identity once retribution is complete.

“That’s what this train is. A dream on wheels.”

Anna thinks back to her father’s description of the Phoenix, which illustrates his idealist attitude toward railroad travel. However, what was once a dream is now a nightmare, as her father is dead, and his dream of a train is the setting of several murders. The train becomes an ironic emblem, as what symbolized innovation and hope is converted into a claustrophobic arena of death, dramatizing the collapse of dream into nightmare.

“Judd Dodge has struck again. And this time he’s no longer targeting the guilty.”

Sager foreshadows the revelation of Reggie’s murderous tendencies with these ironic sentences. Reggie is not guilty of conspiring against the Mathesons, but he did kill Herb, which makes him guilty. Reggie also wasn’t stabbed by Judd; he stabbed himself to hide his guilt. The slippery line between guilt and innocence reinforces the novel’s focus on how truth is obscured when violence spirals out of control.

“Because I mean it. We’re bound together by what happened to our brothers. And that bond will remain long after this trip ends.”

Because of his degenerative condition, Seamus has given up on his future entirely, but Anna encourages him to think positively about a future with her. This is ironic, given Anna’s uncertainty about her own future and the fact that she does not yet know that Seamus has gone rogue and decided to kill the conspirators. The shared trauma, however, makes grief into a kind of kinship, binding survivors even when love or hope proves fleeting.

“‘Because I love you,’ Seamus says wearily, making it sound not like a declaration but a confession. A deep, dark secret he’s only now being forced to reveal. ‘I know you don’t feel the same way, and I’ve made peace with that. But I knew I’d never make peace with what they did, what they took from us. I needed to make at least one of them pay.’”

Seamus’s love for Anna is unrequited, and though he admits it, he doesn’t seek to make Anna feel guilty for not loving him back. He simply explains his actions through the lens of his love, which is strong but not strong enough to hold him back from his desire for revenge. The confession collapses tenderness into violence, showing how the theme of the difference between revenge and justice distorts even love into a motive for retribution.

“Despite everything, he still admires her. She’s plucky, determined. Very few of his fellow agents would have been able to pull off some of the things Anna accomplished during the night.”

Reggie’s view of Anna hints at her future role with the FBI. It also demonstrates the foil relationship between Reggie and Anna, as both have similar skills and similar tragic backstories. This mirroring of antagonist and protagonist suggests that survival requires the same ruthless traits, no matter if those skills are used for justice or vengeance.

“Everything—from the wind to the snow to the objects running alongside the rails—feels like they’re grasping at Anna, threatening to rip her from the train.”

Anna is held back by the pain of the past throughout the novel, but when she makes it to the roof of the train, the physical elements try to rip her away from the train, or the symbol of her power. Anna harnesses her determination to press forward and find Reggie, to stop him before he derails her plan further.

“His father caused all this. Think about that, Anna. Your brother and my father are dead, but the Wentworth men still have each other. That doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

Reggie’s dialogue hints at the tragic irony of Kenneth’s plot. Kenneth also lost a son in the 1942 explosion, as Tommy was secretly his and Kenneth didn’t know Tommy would be aboard the faulty train. Reggie’s grievance underscores the corrosive legacy of inherited guilt, as the sins of fathers reverberate across generations, making fairness an impossible measure.