Opening Line
The author may well be more well-known as a poet than as a writer of novels or prose in general. As a result, his prose tends be deeply steeped in the language of poetry, such as metaphor and simile. A hint of this connection is made right out of the gate in the novel’s opening line:
“It was raining so hard that Kevin thought God must have torn a hole in the sky and let all of the rivers of heaven spill upon earth.”
Kevin’s Mother
The protagonist of the story is Kevin. Much of the book revolves around his relationship with his mother. That relationship is often conveyed through the literary portraiture of figurative description:
“Kevin often reflected on the difference between his mother and the other Lockhartville women. Where she skipped like a little girl, they trudged like spavined mares.”
Note: "spavined" means broken-down.
Darkness
The 20th century novelist’s favorite go-to metaphor is in deep supply here. Writers have been putting a loving on “darkness” as a metaphorical image like nothing else since shortly before 1900 arrived. It does not appear to be used up or going out of style and certainly not in this novel:
“At this instant, Kevin’s mind was engulfed by a great cataract of light. For a moment, he believed that a falling star had landed in the churchyard, almost at his feet. Then the darkness surged up around him and the earth under his feet rocked like a teeter-totter.”
Physical Description
Character description using metaphorical imagery is not limited to subjective observation. Even the most literal and objective elements of a person can be transformed into the stuff of simile by a writer well-versed in the tools of writing verse:
“Kaye squatted on the ground. Kevin threw himself down beside him. The sun was so bright that the blond fuzz on his arms and legs shone like moonlight against his chestnut-coloured skin.”
Imagery
When a bunch of different metaphorical descriptions are strung together in a row, the effect is usually termed “imagery.” This occurs quite a bit in the novel, but rarely in a way in which the individual metaphors are so distinctly drawn and quartered:
“The room drew him as a magnet draws a jack-knife blade. But he did not wholly like it. Sometimes when the six-foot-high clock standing between the curtained windows struck the hour, he started up as though he had heard the snarl of a werewolf or the wail of a banshee. And sometimes when he lay reading he stopped abruptly and looked over his shoulder, as though he had felt a hot breath on the back of his neck.”
