Motherhood
Near the end of the text, imagery is used almost rhapsodically—no, not almost, it is absolutely used rhapsodically—to elevate the job of being a mother to the concept of motherhood and the concept of motherhood to canonical status as a pathway to sainthood. The language is as spare and direct as that found throughout the novel, yet by nature of its context feels loftier as a result of its use as imagery:
“But the woman, the mother, she watches, she waits, she loves. And she bears the weight of that love. She bears the loss of her son to war. She bears the story of Manifest. When everyone else is crushed by it, by the loss, the pain. When no one else can bear to remember. She is the keeper of the story. Until someone who needs to hear it comes along. When it will be time to make it known. To manifest. That’s what a diviner does.”
The Cigar Box
Crates become an altar and a cigar box becomes a secret treasure. The opening of the box to discover the prizes hidden inside is given all the serious due of a ritualistic ceremony that could—possibly—end with melting faces and screams of terror. As Brad Pitt once famously asked, what’s in the box?
“There was the map. Not a folded-up road map, but a homemade one on faded paper with worn edges…hen there were the keepsakes. Little things kept for the sake of something. Or someone. A cork, a fishhook, a silver dollar, a fancy key, and a tiny wooden baby doll, no bigger than a thimble, painted in bright colors, with a face and everything…like treasures from a museum, things a person could study to learn about another time and the people who lived back then.”
The Creepy House
For most people, a piece of paper nailed to a tree reading “Leave Well Enough Alone” would be enough to, well, leave that thing alone. But that would make for a rather uninvolving story, so thank goodness the narrator decides to venture forth and further explore the creepiness which awaits:
“The house was dark and a rocking chair added an unharmonious sound to the delicate tinkling of the chimes. It creaked back and forth in the dark shadows of the porch. I opened the wrought iron gate, with all its welded forks and pans, and tender-footed by way to the porch."
Aunt Sadie’s Dirty House
Aunt Sadie is no sooner described as being cranky than the narrator gets pretty cranky discussing all the chores Sadie has in store for just such an occasion. A strikingly effective—short but sweet—example of imagery is used to describe the process of beating a big Persian rug with a broom for the intended purpose of extrication of collected dust particles:
“I can tell you that was a pure waste of time, as the dust kicked up in the air like someone kicking a bad habit, only to settle into its old ways, right back on that rug.”
