Out of the Closet: The Clothes Class

Clueless. 1995.

She had never read Sartor Resartus, but she had a womanly instinct that clothes possess an influence more powerful over many than the worth of character or the magic of manners.

Louisa May Alcott, Little Women. 1868.

Clothes are emotional. When you put them on, they make you feel something, and they make other people feel something when they see you in them. 

Joanna Coles, former editor-in-chief, Marie Claire magazine

The Origin

It hadn’t occurred to me to wonder what my last name “meant” until I read this passage in George R.R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones:

The benches were crowded, townsfolk and farmers mingling freely with all manner of travelers. The crossroads made for odd companions; dyers with black and purple hands shared a bench with rivermen reeking of fish, an ironsmith thick with muscle squeezed in beside a wizened old septon, hard-bitten sellswords and soft plump merchants swapped news like boon companions.

George R. R. Martin, A Game of Thrones. 1996.

This passage stuck out to me not because it invokes my actual last name (Rolater) but my mother’s maiden name: Dyer. My mother’s line, presumably, would trace back to people who dyed cloth for a living. (I remain clueless as to what a “rolater” would have done to make ends meet.) This was never something my family members have ever discussed explicitly, but the last time I saw my Grandmother Dyer alive, in 2015, she described making underwear out of the silk from my Grandfather Dyer’s World War II parachute.

Yet it was still several years after connecting my lineage to this profession before I became more interested in clothes by way of a few creative influences, which in turn started making me look at the world through the eyes of…clothes. One of those influences was HSPVA itself, or rather, an alum, Alan Gonzalez, who gave an interview to the school newspaper about his experience as a contestant on a show I had at that point never watched before: Project Runway.

from here.

Another influence was another PVA alum, writer Susan Choi, whose novel Trust Exercise won the 2019 National Book Award for Fiction and is rumored to be based on/inspired by her time at PVA, where she was a student in the Theater Department, working behind the scenes, in Wardrobe–as did a main character in the novel-within-this-novel, in which clothes were used as, among other things, a plot device when designer shirts become a means through which the Wardrobe student character exposes an illicit relationship between a teacher and another student.

But the idea for The Clothes Class officially breached my conscious mind through the intersection of two figures regarded (if to different degrees) as style icons from two TV shows, Schitt’s Creek and The Crown.

A Tale of Two Sweaters

If you want to destroy my sweater (whoa, oh, oh)
Hold this thread as I walk away (as I walk away)
Watch me unravel, I’ll soon be naked
Lying on the floor, lying on the floor
I’ve come undone

Weezer, “Undone (The Sweater Song),” s/t, 1994.

Sweater 1: Diana

The extent to which a piece of clothing can communicate a narrative was driven home to me by an article on a sweater of Princess Diana’s; its headline dubs it her “most notorious” while the url indicates this was changed from an initial designation of “most iconic”–the black sheep sweater.

Princess Diana…

The Crown shows this sweater only fleetingly, and in a cut-off frame that appears to have required changing the position of the lone black sheep to a higher row than on its original counterpart:

Emma Corrin as The Crown‘s Princess Diana…

This sweater is shown so fleetingly you could easily miss it if you’re not looking for it. As the article about it discusses, a lot of its meaning is gained retrospectively as Diana’s status as “black sheep” in the royal family becomes increasingly apparent until it culminates into what was once unthinkable in the royal family–divorce. (The show further develops this iconography by rendering Diana’s wedding dress as sacrificial lamb imagery in the “Fairy Tale” episode.)

What I’ve internalized as Diana’s “kindergarten” sweaters are showcased on the show more prominently:

(From here.)

The show’s adding the sweater over this look makes her look even younger, and highlighting her innocence in this scene, her second significant interaction with Charles, seems a deliberate choice: 

(From here.)

Diana’s also in costume as a fairy and very much still a literal child in the scene where she first meets Charles. When she marries him at barely 20 years old, she’s still a child essentially, if not legally. Fashion becomes a significant source of her power and influence, and there’s one storyline that basically shows this influence to single-handedly save the British empire when Australia is about to pull out.

The story of clothes is the story of empire and exploitation.

Sweater 2: David

As I was watching season 4 of The Crown, I was simultaneously watching the final season of Schitt’s Creek. In a concluding documentary, Best Wishes, Warmest Regards: A Schitt’s Creek Farewell, creator Dan Levy talks about how much they focused on developing the four main characters of the Rose family at the show’s outset, and how integral the wardrobe was in expressing the essence of these characters:

Wardrobe is probably the most important element in storytelling outside of actually writing because we as people say so much about who we are and what we believe in and what we want and what we think of ourselves by the way that we dress.

Daniel Levy on Best Wishes, Warmest Regards: A Schitt’s Creek Farewell. 2020.

It’s as though the clothing was thought about at the same time as the character development and everything else…so it’s become inherent to the show [Schitt’s Creek].

Virginia Smith, fashion director, Vogue magazine on Best Wishes, Warmest Regards: A Schitt’s Creek Farewell. 2020.

“I think the investment being put into wardrobe was a smart investment because that said so much about who the characters were.”

Rachel Giese, editorial director, XTRA on Best Wishes, Warmest Regards: A Schitt’s Creek Farewell. 2020.

All of the characters in this family of four have their own wardrobe-related quirks; they also somehow made away with their vast collection of designer clothes (if you count Moira’s wigs as part of her clothes/wardrobe) when they lost literally everything else. But I will focus on one, the son, David Rose.

(From here.)

David’s defining wardrobe item would be the sweater, usually in a black-and-white palette.

Schitt’s Creek 2.3, “Jazzagals”

That David’s almost exclusively black-and-white color palette matches his mother Moira’s signifies a likeness between them.

“Like Beyoncé, I excel as a solo artist…

Schitt’s Creek 4.4, “Girls’ Night”

If you take in all of David’s outfits on the show compiled here in a quick-cut context, one in particular may or may not stick out, depending on your eye. There is some variation in David’s black-and-white palette, but the most significant/striking deviation is the Givenchy flame sweater. This sweater appears in episode 4.6, when, during an Open Mic Night to promote their store, David’s love interest and business partner Patrick serenades him with an acoustic rendition of Tina Turner’s “Simply the Best.”

Schitt’s Creek 4.6, “Open Mic”

Without mentioning the sweater David is wearing as it happens, the documentary unpacks the significance of this narrative moment:

It’s such a beautiful moment, because when you see gay relationships on screen and the way they’re portrayed it’s often portrayed through a lens of tragedy or strife or struggle, right, it’s like ‘look at all we had to overcome to love each other,’ you know, and so it felt like this moment where we got to see ourselves just being in love and being joyful, so I think that scene was a watershed moment in queer representation in television history.

Philip Picardi, journalist, former EIC Out magazine on Best Wishes, Warmest Regards: A Schitt’s Creek Farewell. 2020.

Further, per Rachel Geise, it’s a moment we’re “watching [David’s queer] archness break,” an archness familiar to queer people who have used it as a defense mechanism/armor for not fitting in. So, per me, it’s fitting that David’s wardrobe in this critical moment should help to highlight that it’s critical by breaking the pattern of his black-and-white palette.

David’s sweaters find such a narrative use again when, while still maintaining their black foundation, they become more colorful during the (Emmy-sweeping) final season as David plans his wedding to Patrick.

Schitt’s Creek 6.11, “The Bachelor Party”
David Rose on his wedding day, Schitt’s Creek 6.14, “Happy Ending”

The flaming Givenchy sweater even appears to get a callback in the scene where David and Patrick get their dream house..

Schitt’s Creek 6.13, “Start Spreading the News”

Of course, appreciation of fashion sense is subjective…

Schitt’s Creek 1.3, “Don’t Worry, It’s His Sister”

Clothes can be narratively/creatively utilized in different ways, and the cultural ceremony of the wedding in particular showcases how they connect to both group tradition and individual expression therein. They can also be used for plot. The pilot of Friends showcases both when our introduction to Rachel Green–a character whose arc over the show will be largely defined by her career in fashion–is her storming into a coffee shop in her wedding dress, a wardrobe context clash that immediately piques interest. It seems intentional that Rachel is still in this dress, veil and all, in a later scene in the first episode in which she tries to explain the plot implications of her clothes–leaving a man at the altar–and does so by way of a comparison that invokes…clothes.

“Daddy, listen to me. It’s like all of my life, everyone has always told me, ‘You’re a shoe! You’re a shoe, you’re a shoe, you’re a shoe!’ And then today I just stopped and I said, What if I don’t want to be a shoe? …What if I want to be a, a purse, o-o-or a hat? … No, I don’t want you to buy me a hat, I’m saying that I am a hat–

Friends 1.1

-SCR

“Flashlight” Student Presentations

Student presentations on “Flashlight” by PVA alum Susan Choi

Presentation 1: Preston Lim

Summary

The story opens with the main character on a beach with her father. Her mother is in a beachside cabin they’ve rented out, but she can’t come because she is sick. Her father tells her he never learned how to swim and says he wants her to act thankful to her mother for teaching her to swim. Those are the last words her father spoke to her.

            She goes to a “child psychologist” who goes over her record in school as well as her past. In the office is a dollhouse, which reminds her of her father, who built one for her. The psychologist, Dr. Brickner, snaps her out of it. She notices a flashlight on his desk, which reminds her of her last night with her dad on the beach. She asks Brickner to turn off the lights and he obliges. Brickner brings up her records, which include larceny. She seems to find nothing wrong with theft, and, as she leaves, steals his flashlight.

What makes it compelling?

I think the complexity and mysteriousness of the characters is what makes it interesting. Particularly Louisa, but also her mother. Though this might not be a common craft tool, I really think it’s what makes the story stand out. The use of flashbacks is also really interesting in this story and gives backstory on why the characters are the way they are.

Louisa’s character is really complex and has gone through a lot more than she should’ve at the age she’s at. One thing I noticed is her contempt for adults- she seems to not really see a reason they should be superior to her. This is shown in the lines ““Close it all the way, please,” Louisa would say in a sharp, grownup tone.” (Choi 3) as well as “The hidden side of her contempt for adults was this pity: that they imagined they understood her and then blundered so proudly, while she had to pretend to be caught.” (Choi 10). Another thing that I felt was really interesting is the way that her father’s death impacted her. He is described as so cautious on pages 17 and 18. The line “He’d been particularly cautious, her father. Full of strange fears.”(Choi 17) stands out. The way that scene was so vivid in Louisa’s mind leads me to believe that that’s what made her so carefree and morally ambiguous. Her father was so cautious, and she sees that as what lead to his death. If he had been more carefree, he might still be alive. This is what made her the very opposite. She steals and defies authority with no regrets. She throws caution to the wind and does what she wants.

Louisa’s mom is also a very odd character. It’s obvious that she loves Louisa, but Louisa is also sure that she doesn’t need the wheelchair. This could just be Louisa being pessimistic, as she is shown to be throughout the story, but I also think it holds some weigh since she is so sure she doesn’t need it. Another thing that’s confusing about the mom is how she tells everyone that Louisa’s dad was kidnapped, whereas Louisa insists it’s not. Does her mom know something that she’s keeping to herself? Is she somehow involved in his death and is using being in a wheelchair as an alibi?

What can I imitate?

Something I noticed about Flashlight is how much foreshadowing there is, combined with vivid flashbacks that let you learn a lot about the characters. The first page and a half is a flashback, but it doesn’t feel like a corny flashback. It’s written in the present tense, which I never really thought of doing for a flashback. I think it makes it feel a lot more real and puts the reader into the flashback, which is definitely something that I could try to do more. Her method of characterization is also something that’s really interesting. It ties into the flashbacks, but it shows you what happened to make Louisa the way that she is via her memories and experiences. I really like that, since it doesn’t describe the characters or even really show you through what they do in the story- it shows you through their experiences and I really think that’s a great way to show the ins and outs of a character.

Discussion Questions

  1. On page 19, Louisa’s theory that her mother doesn’t need her wheelchair is confirmed. Why does the author add this detail that confirms Louisa’s suspicions?
  1. Why did the author start off the story with a flashback and then revisit the same moment later?

Presentation 2: Lila Mankad

This story starts with a flashback in the present tense, with Louisa, a ten year old girl, taking a walk along the breakwater with her Father at sunset, the Father carrying a flashlight in his hands. The mother is unable to come because she is sick, which Louisa believes she is faking. They have a conversation in which the Father says he is glad her mother took her to swim lessons, and she belligerently insists that she hates swimming. Her father chides her, telling her to be respectful, then the story tells you that this was the last thing he ever said to Louisa and cuts to Louisa lying in bed at night. There is a description about how every night, the mother comes into Louisa’s room with her wheelchair, and Louisa sharply rejects her care and pretty much tells her Mother to go away. 

Then, the story describes Louisa’s visit to a child psychologist that morning. There is a dollhouse that reminds her of the dollhouse her father made her. Dr. Brickner(the psychologist), tries to have a conversation with Louisa to explore her feelings about her father’s death, but Louisa is resistant, and shuts down when he gets to anything “real”. She won’t play with any of his toys or take any of his compliments, but latches onto a seemingly insignificant flashlight, that reminds her of her last walk with her dad. She requests that Dr. Brickner turns off the lights, and when he does she plays with the flashlight as they talk. Dr. Brickner continues to try to talk about her father to no avail, then talks about Louisa’s behavioral problems such as larceny, which Louisa doesn’t understand are wrong. Louisa steals the flashlight, and as she is lying in bed with it that night, comes to an epiphany as she fully realizes that her father is dead. Her aunt and mother discover that she stole the flashlight, confiscate it, and leave her alone in the dark with her realization.

What makes this story compelling?

One thing I found very interesting in this story was how the author created the atmosphere, specifically how they utilized light and darkness. The whole story has a sort of dim feeling throughout, and I think that the descriptions of light or the lack of light contribute to that.

The story starts out with Louisa and her father walking at sunset during her flashback, and right before he dies, we are given this description:

‘Far out over the water, far beyond where the breakwater joins with a thin spit of sand, the sunset has lost all its warmth and is only a paleness against the horizon.’

The sunset losing it’s warmth and becoming pale gives you an almost melancholy feeling, and the reader may subconsciously apply it to Louisa and her father. After his last words are spoken, it is revealed that the scene was a flashback, and Louisa is lying down in bed in the dark.

“Louisa lay awake, staring into the dark. The ceiling showed itself in a narrow stripe of light—first sharp like a blade and then becoming softer and softer—which began at the doorframe, where the door was very slightly cracked open. ”

This passage shifts the atmosphere slightly to uncertainty and fear. It doesn’t come as a surprise when you learn that Louisa is (recently) afraid of the dark. Another thing worth mentioning is how this is our first description of Louisa after her Father’s death, which starkly contrasts with how we saw her at the beginning.

Then, later on in the story when Louisa is in Dr. Brickner’s office, light plays an important role in setting the atmosphere as well. Louisa asks Dr. Brickner to turn off the lights and close the blinds, and when he does, we get this beautiful description.

“The dust, dissipating, glinted erratically as if flashing a code as it crossed the slim rays of afternoon light that were streaming in through the gap where the blinds did not quite meet the wall. When her eyes adjusted, Louisa could see everything, but it was pleasantly dusky, so long as she didn’t look straight into the needles of sun.”

This gives you a calmer sense of atmosphere that seems to match a child psychologist. It makes sense when Louisa finds herself saying the truth about her being scared of the alien movie. 

My last example about the atmosphere is at the very end. Louisa is playing with the stolen flashlight in her bed, when she has her realization that her father is truly dead.  Then, her mother and aunt burst into the room after they finished their conversation about Louisa and expressed sympathy. Louisa freaks out and they attempt to calm her down, then discover that she has stolen the flashlight. 

“Then they did let her alone, though she didn’t see which of them yanked the door shut, leaving her in darkness. ”

This picture gives me a sense of hopelessness, and is the first time it describes Louisa being completely and totally in the dark. It is an unhappy, almost tragic ending to the story.

What can you find to imitate or use in your own writing?

The first thing I noticed when this story ended was the particular feeling/emotion it left me with. However, the author never directly tells you the character’s emotions- they show them not only through their thoughts or actions, but how they are perceiving the world around them. I think this is definitely something that I could learn from, because it really gives you a deeper understanding of the characters and the world.

As I described in my analysis, I think that the atmosphere of the poem is interesting. I had honestly not thought a lot about how to create atmosphere in my writing consciously, so that is definitely something I will try. Subtle details changed how I perceived the whole story which I really loved.

Discussion questions

Why did the author add the uncertainty about Louisa’s father’s death?

The dollhouse was given a lot of time in the story. Why do you think that is? What did it symbolize?

Presentation 3: Luka Neal

Highlighted element: Description

“Flashlight” is a beautifully written story about a young girl who is in shock due to her fathers’ passing. The story is mostly in a third person perspective and centers mainly around the young girl, Louisa, her mother, father, aunt, and psychologist.

In the beginning of this story we are treated to a flashback of a conversation Louisa had with her father, in which she reveals to us that she despises her mother but also that her mother is sick and in a wheelchair. This immediately brings up the question of why she hates her mother rather than feeling sorry for her, a topic that will be brought up later in the story. The middle of the story focuses on an appointment with a child psychologist that Louisa’s aunt took her to. Throughout this appointment, much more is revealed about Louisa. For example, it is assumed that her father passed away because he drowned, but the first person that found Louisa on the beach said that she told them he had been kidnapped. Louisa denies this statement to the point where we are as unsure who to trust just as much as she is. The appointment also focuses on the titular item: a flashlight. There are doll houses and toys of all sorts riddled throughout the office that the psychologist encourages Louisa to play with, but she focuses on the flashlight and only the flashlight that he has on his windowsill. Afterwards, we find out she was drawn to this because her father, a nervous man, always carried one with him in case of emergency.

As mentioned before, Louisa strongly dislikes her mother because according to her she makes up everything, including the fact that she said her father was kidnapped. For most of this story you assume that this is just Louisa being in shock and being unsure of what is real and what’s not. However, at the very end of the story it is revealed that Louisa’s mother was, in fact, lying about having to be in a wheelchair.

The element I chose to highlight was the fairly vague element of description. I chose this because all of my life I have thought that description is one of if not the most important element in building a fictional environment. Not dialogue, not exposition scenes that put you to sleep using boring narration, description. This story uses description in a third person limited way. Instead of describing literally what you see, it describes what you see through the eyes of Louisa, the ten year old protagonist. I like this alot because the whole point of the story is to not know a lot about what others are thinking, and only see things through Louisa’s point of view. I realized a lot while going through this story and highlighting all the descriptive elements, but the main thing was just how biased a description can sound simply by adding words like: “Seemed”, “Believe”, “Thought”, “Wanted”. By using these words, the author very clearly establishes the main character’s perspective in a way that isn’t just outright telling you their feelings or thoughts. Not only does this help convey thoughts in a third person limited perspective, it also clearly shows who is on who’s side.

 This story has an extremely eerie tone that clouds your judgment and makes you unsure of who is telling the truth and who is not. Not only that, but it conveys adults as the very clear villains in a very interesting way, showing them not as reasonable and organized, (although they think they are all those things) but as overpowered people who constantly think they are right. I would also like to make a comparison to “Joker”, a film made in 2019 about a man who is metally ill and constantly fantasizes. I compare the two because both constantly have you asking yourself the question: Did that really just happen? Overall, I would love to implement this air of uncertainty into my stories as well as the despicable way the parents are portrayed.

In conclusion, this story, although short, is extremely moving and the way it shows the main character’s psyche is not only confusingly eerie, but also kind of endearing. It gives a look into just how uninformed you are as a child and how that can influence your opinion about not only the adults around you, but everyone around you.

Discussion questions:

  1. Who do you think the author had in mind as an audience when she wrote this? Would it be kids or adults?
  2. Why do you think the author used the structure she did? What effect do you think the flashbacks had on the plot as a whole?

Presentation 4: Zella Price

 The story starts off with a young girl named Louisa recounting the last conversation she had with her father, who drowned when they were walking along the seaside. Now she lives with her mother, aunt and uncle. Her mother is sick and has to use a wheelchair, but Louisa believes that she is faking it. One day they take her to a child psychologist but tell her it has to do with school. She is very reluctant to talk with him and quickly figures out that it has nothing to do with school. He tells her that she has counts of defiance, disruptive behavior, deception, peer-to-peer conflict, tardiness, and truancy. It is also revealed that she has a history of stealing. As she leaves the appointment, she steals a flashlight off his desk and is later confronted by her aunt and mom about it. In the end, her mom stands up which reveals that she is in fact faking it.

 The plot of the story (including the way its set up) is extremely interesting, and pulls you in right away. The fact that it starts off with a conversation helps to get you interested, and then when its followed by the fact that the conversation was the last she had with her father, it pulls you in even more because you want to know what happened to her father. The fact that her fathers’ fate wasn’t revealed until quite late in the story gives you motivation to keep reading.

 The dialogue also played a very big part in how interesting the story was. Not only did it add depth to the characters, but it also helped to greatly advance the plot. A lot of important information is revealed through dialogue, helping to deliver it in a very interesting way. But if I’m going to mention dialogue, then I can’t forget about dialogue tags! Dialogue tags are extremely important when it comes to adding more detail to a scene and can also deliver important information. They help to add context and give you an idea of how the dialogue was delivered, as well as detailing any actions done along with the dialogue. For example, the dialogue tag in the line “’Louisa,’ Dr. Brickner said, coming around his desk toward her and propping his rear on the edge, so that his suit jacket, which was already rumpled, bagged up at his shoulders and looked even worse, ‘do you know what ‘shock’ is?’” helps us visualize the scene and adds context. In the line ‘“Well, let’s see what they wrote on your form. ‘Defiance, disruptive behavior, deception, peer-to-peer conflict, tardiness, truancy, larceny—’”, Louisa’s behavioral problems are revealed through the dialogue, rather than them just telling us at the beginning of the story “Louisa has had problems with defiance, disruptive behavior, deception, peer-to-peer conflict, tardiness, truancy, and larceny.” (which would’ve been bland and off-putting) This set of lines also reveals important, new information that progresses the plot, as well as helping us understand Louisa’s character more.

 I would love to be able to recreate how amazing the author is able to make the dialogue sound. In some stories, the dialogue is just quite bland, or sounds out of place. I think the reason that the dialogue in this story is so good is because the author makes it sound very natural and real. I also really love how real the characters feel, particularly Louisa and Dr. Brickner. I also feel that the author was able to almost perfectly capture the out-of-place feeling that a mentally ill child almost constantly has. I think they did both of these things using dialogue and actions. For example, the way Dr. Brickner complimented Louisa and called her a smart girl and “buttered her up” is a thing lots of people tend to do to younger children in an attempt to make them warm up to you. They were also able to encapsulate the awkward feeling of talking to an adult about mental health, as well as the way some adults talk to you as if you’re a dog, or a toddler. I think one way they achieve this is by not trying to cram too much information into the dialogue. When you do that, the conversation tends to sound unrealistic and stiff. She also avoids using bland and overused dialogue tags, which also tends to make the conversation stiff and boring since you have no idea how the lines were spoken, or if there were any actions delivered along with the lines. In addition to that, she avoids using commonly overused words, and instead uses vivid and sensory ones. Overall, I think that the story was very interesting, and there were lots of techniques that you could take away from it.

Questions:

How does the author attempt to make Louisa a likeable character?

What are some ways the author reveals important information without directly stating it?

A Novelist of Interest

Susan Choi, a graduate of the High School for Performing and Visual Arts here in Houston, returned to talk to the students here this past March. Discussing her writing process, she described how she’s incorporated aspects of people she knows into her characters, and shared the evolution of the idea behind her third novel, A Person of Interest (2008). Choi’s father, a Korean math professor, went to graduate school with Ted Kaczynksi, who would later become the notorious Unabomber. Naturally, Choi found this tidbit fascinating, and started writing with the idea that the main character, occupying her father’s position, would, while the bombings were ongoing, recognize that he knew the bomber, and would be conflicted about whether he should turn him in. But she said she soon realized this did not actually make a very interesting story, and what would be more interesting was if the character in her father’s position started to act increasingly suspicious when he crossed paths with the FBI’s investigation. This was an aspect of the character she could personally identify with, saying she got nervous around policemen when she had absolutely no reason to be. This also provides a nice general rising-action arc: the more suspicious the character acts, the more he’ll be suspected, which will in turn cause him to act even more suspicious, which will cause him to be increasingly suspect…

And so, a summary of how A Person of Interest plays out: When a mailed-in bomb goes off in the adjacent office at the midwestern university where Korean immigrant Dr. Lee teaches math, it kills a popular young prodigy professor named Hendley, and Lee is forced to confront the extent to which he disliked Hendley without previously acknowledging it. (But he still speaks to news reporters that night decrying the heinousness of the crime.) Lee nonsensically tells the bomb squad when they enter his office that he needs to call his wife, thinking not of his more recent ex-wife Michiko but of his dead first wife, Aileen. He met Aileen when he was in graduate school, where, after failing to befriend the top student in the class, Donald Whitehead, Lee became friends with another student, Lewis Gaither, then Aileen’s husband. Eventually Aileen and Lee began an affair that went on hiatus when Aileen told him she was pregnant with Gaither’s baby. When she split with Gaither, Gaither took the baby, then called John, and once married to Aileen himself, Lee did nothing to help her get John back, implying he would leave her if she tried because he did not want to raise another man’s child. He has one child by Aileen, Esther, who was fourteen when Aileen died of cancer after she divorced Lee. Now grown, Esther’s work with wild eagles keeps her transient and frequently out of touch entirely. 

After the bombing, Lee receives a letter in his university mailbox from someone who refers to himself as his “graduate school colleague” and who references committing the bombing; Lee assumes the letter is from Gaither. When Lee is eventually questioned about the letter by FBI agents who were tracking the school’s mail, Lee lies and says he’s thrown the letter away, then later, under further questioning, admits that he still has it and shows it to the agent, Jim Morrison, telling him about Gaither. After this (and taking a polygraph test that comes back “inconclusive,”) Lee becomes a “Person of Interest” in the case, and when rumors get out about his being questioned, in conjunction with the fact that he had animosity with Hendley and didn’t show up to Hendley’s memorial, his colleagues, students, and neighbors begin to believe he’s the “Brain Bomber.” The FBI searches his house and seizes his possessions, which Lee, in front of news cameras, does not react well to. Morrison also tells Lee that Gaither is dead. The FBI puts a tail on Lee that Lee causes to rear-end him when he stops suddenly in an intersection. He manages to throw the tail off and sneak back to his house, where he sees he’s been mailed a page torn out of his doctoral dissertation. Lee, believing Gaither has staged an elaborate setup to frame him, flees the state and makes it to his old university’s library, where he finds the copy of his dissertation with the page torn out and in its place a note from the bomber. 

We then jump to the perspective of Mark, Lewis Gaither’s son. He was raised by Gaither and a woman named Ruth whom he believes to be his mother; they lived a transient lifestyle moving to different countries as missionaries. Mark drifted from them in his late teens and got into drugs and alcohol; he was surprised Ruth was even able to locate him to tell him when Gaither died in Indonesia. Recovered now but still transient, he lives an isolated existence in a small mountain town and enjoys hiking. When FBI agents turn up questioning him about his father, he’s disturbed by their question about his father attending graduate school for math in the Midwest, which he had never heard about and which Ruth continues to deny despite Mark’s calling the school and confirming it’s true. Starting to put the clues together that there are more significant questions about his origin, Mark feels himself on the verge of a crisis, exacerbated when he runs into a big garrulous family while hiking and holds a baby for the first time, thinking that the baby won’t remember anything from this time and will have to take his parents’ word for it. 

We go back to Lee on his cross-country trek to Sippston, Idaho, where the bomber’s note has directed him to a public library. The drive reminds him of all the drives he used to make between the midwest and Rhode Island, where Aileen moved with Esther after divorcing him. He recalls her dying days in the hospital, where Aileen’s sister Nora called him out for not helping get John back from Gaither when they first got married. Lee considered asking Aileen if she wanted him to try to locate John before she died, but delayed so long that she died before he did. He arrives at the Sippston library as it’s closing, and the librarian, Marjorie, tells him she has instructions from “Dr. Burt” to bring Lee up the mountain. Lee initially resists but lets her drive him up nearly impassable terrain to the cabin, where he meets not Lewis Gaither, but Donald Whitehead. Whitehead is excited to see him, but right after he admits to killing Hendley they hear an engine outside and Lee bolts; someone outside grabs him and bundles him into a car and down the mountain. It turns out to be FBI agents; Lee initially thinks they followed him to Whitehead but it turns out they followed an independent lead from a correspondent of Whitehead’s, so it’s a complete coincidence. He reunites with Agent Morrison, who tells him a news team has gotten hold of the story and so they’re on a strict timeline to nab Whitehead before Whitehead and everyone else learns they know where he is. That his place is so inaccessible and that his cabin is likely booby-trapped leads Lee to semi-volunteer, despite being ill, to go back up (in a blizzard and weighed down by a bulletproof vest) and lure Whitehead out of his cabin so they don’t have to risk getting killed going in to get him. Whitehead is suspicious due to Lee’s sudden disappearance the night before, but Lee engages him in a discussion of how he was jealous of Whitehead’s gifts. From his doorway Whitehead expounds on how he’s killing individuals to save the world from the larger harm caused by their inventions, invoking the damage of the atom bomb, and when Lee counters that Hendley would not have hurt anybody, he’s suddenly overwhelmed by grief for him and starts weeping, which finally draws Whitehead out to help him, and the FBI agents who have been concealing themselves pounce on him without anybody getting hurt. Before Lee leaves Idaho, Morrison returns a personal effect of his he knows Lee will value, an old letter from Aileen.

When Lee gets home after the news of the Brain Bomber’s capture, people are still wary of him, thinking him somehow involved. His old colleague Fasano comes to visit, and he gets a postcard from Esther that she’ll be arriving soon. Before she does he gets another visitor–Mark, who’s located a copy of his birth certificate with Aileen’s name on it. Lee confirms she was his mother and tells him she’s dead. He cooks dinner for him but before he can eat Mark reads the letter from Aileen Lee had left out on the table, which discusses him when he was a baby, and collapses into sobs for what he’s lost; Lee sits with him until he falls asleep. Mark goes with Lee to the airport to pick up Esther so he can meet his half-sister, and in the final line Esther arrives. The End. 

This novel provides a near-textbook example of acute tension (in this case the bombing of his colleague Hendley and himself becoming a pseudo-suspect) pushing chronic tension (Lee’s role in the destruction of his marriage to Aileen) to the surface and forcing it to a new resolution. As in A Canticle for Leibowitz, the acute tension of the bombing appears in the novel’s opening line: 

It was only after Hendley was bombed that Lee was forced to admit to himself how much he’d disliked him: a raw, never-mined vein of thought in an instant laid bare by the force of explosion.

This line could serve as a symbolic description of how acute and chronic tension interact generally, the “force of explosion” the symbol of acute tension and the “raw, never-mined vein of thought” a symbol of the chronic, while the “in an instant laid bare” describes how the acute brings the chronic to the resolution of a new epiphany. 

More specifically, this particular “never-mined vein of thought” is referring to the chronic tension of Lee’s dislike of Hendley, which exists before the novel starts, but that chronic tension is really indicative of the deeper chronic tension of how Lee’s shortcomings as an individual have manifested in his most regret-worthy mistake(s). Choi does an excellent job of running the development of the chronic tension on a parallel track with the acute, so that the chronic has its own narrative arc, which climaxes with the revelation of what Lee’s most regret-worthy mistake is–his not offering to find John when Aileen is on her deathbed. It’s also narratively appropriate that this mistake is not fully revealed to the reader until near the end of the novel because it shows how deeply Lee has buried it in his psyche, how much he does not want to confront it, and can only be pushed to by the mounting events of the acute tension.   

Lee’s dislike of Hendley resurfaces in a narratively satisfying way during the climax of the acute tension–when Lee is luring Whitehead out of his cabin. In this moment, when Lee invokes Hendley, he finally feels grief for him rather than bitterness, and it’s his weeping for Hendley that draws Whitehead out, while also showing that Lee has overcome some of the pettiness that has marked him as a character and been responsible for his biggest chronic-tension mistake (one can read into the moment that he’s weeping for more than just Hendley here). This is narratively neat but didn’t (to me at least) feel too heavy-handed; it felt more like a narrative spandrel, that in seeking a way that Lee was going to be able to lure Whitehead out, Choi looked back to what was prominent in the novel’s beginning and in it found a way to show Lee’s progress as a character, manifest in his weeping, which leads to his successfully completing a mission for the same guys–the FBI–who were largely responsible for wrecking his life over the previous months, though notably Lee’s own actions played a significant role in their actions toward him wrecking his life–their suspecting him wrecked his life, but they suspected him because he was acting suspicious. 

The use of an object associated with Whitehead–his houndstooth jacket–also felt like a possible spandrel in how it came to play a role in the acute-tension climax. It’s mentioned in the early flashback scene with Whitehead near the book’s beginning: 

Whitehead was wearing a rumpled green-and-gold houndstooth jacket that was slightly too large but that somehow, for this flaw, was more flattering. 

A moment later, when Whitehead tells Lee he’s “tragically impoverished,” we get: 

Lee doubted it, looking at the old but well-pedigreed jacket. He’d never found something like that at the secondhand store.

Near the novel’s end, when Lee goes into Whitehead’s cabin, it’s been raining and he’s not wearing a waterproof jacket, so Whitehead offers him one of his: 

“Here is the woodstove, Lee, here is the peg for your jacket, here’s ancient raiment of mine you can wear while that dries.” …

A blast of wood smoke and intimate odor scorched Lee’s eyes and nostrils; yet despite the strength of these foul exhalations, the houndstooth jacket drooped, a windless flag, from Lee’s hand. 

“Lewis isn’t here,” Lee said–telling himself, reprimanding himself, wringing the jacket with fury.

…he absorbed these impressions instantaneously, his mind’s shutter held open, as he turned for the door, half an arm’s reach away, and plunged through it, skidding down the two moss-slickened steps, belatedly rejecting the houndstooth jacket and then tripping over and trampling it into the mud.

Then, when Lee returns the next day, now at the behest of the FBI, the jacket appears again: 

Lee realized [Whitehead] was wearing the old houndstooth jacket. He must have ventured out to retrieve it from where Lee had dropped it in the course of his flight. And then dried it, perhaps carefully draped on the smoking woodstove. It was true that the decades had made it too small for his frame. It barely stretched from shoulder to shoulder and winged out on both sides from a gap where it should have been buttoned. Even the sleeves ended short of the thick, hairy wrists. Now Lee knew, from Agent Morrison and Dave and Wing Tips, that Whitehead had never been the scion of a moneyed and lettered East Coast family, as Lee once romantically thought. He was the midwestern son of a husbandless mother, who had raised him in sooty brick houses against a background of smokestacks. The jacket must have come from a secondhand store, like Lee’s briefcase. Perhaps it had never quite fit. 

The jacket has become associated with Lee’s realization that he’d been completely wrong in his conception of Whitehead when they were students, and that he’s been wrong in thinking Gaither’s the bomber. These two mistakes are directly connected and explain how Lee misreads the original letter that makes him believe the bomber is Gaither (a mistake that by novel’s end becomes obviously a manifestation of his own guilt), a conclusion he largely infers from the reference that “I can admit that you bruised me, that last time we met.” The last time they met is in the scene where the jacket is initially referenced, and Lee doesn’t even register that he’s been rude to Whitehead because he’s so preoccupied with his own problems with Aileen, and thus has no chance whatsoever of connecting the letter to Whitehead. The acute tension forces Lee to confront how he misunderstood Whitehead, which forces him to confront the chronic tension of how he misunderstood himself and his marriage. 

It’s a convenient coincidence that the FBI shows up at the bomber’s at the same time Lee does. Choi calls attention to this coincidence by having Lee initially think he led the FBI to the bomber because they followed him all the way from Iowa, but this turning out not to be the case. This, in conjunction with the fact that the coincidence is narratively necessary, otherwise Lee would not have the chance to redeem himself, is why I think in large part she gets away with it. 

The narrative doubles down on mistaken identity: Lee as mistaken suspect–while Agent Morrison is careful never to call him this, his colleagues, neighbors and the media end up treating him as such–and Lee is mistaken in whom he suspects of the bombings when he thinks it’s Gaither. This major mistake of Lee’s in the acute-tension situation seems symbolic of his mistake in his chronic-tension situation; both reflect his inability to see what’s really going on. The novel is so satisfying because Lee’s chronic tension makes him the perfect character for this acute-tension situation: he deserves to be misjudged and mistaken for a suspect because of all the ways he’s misjudged other people: Gaither, Whitehead, and most importantly, himself.   

That Whitehead gets a couple of mentions and a scene of seemingly little consequence in one of the early flashbacks in which Lee rashly confesses to him his affair with Aileen will lead some readers to pick up on the fact that when Morrison tells Lee Gaither is dead, he’s telling the truth, though Lee continues persists in believing for quite some time after this that Gaither’s death can’t be true, that the FBI is either messing with him or Gaither changed his name and went off the grid. Lee’s persistence in this belief is a sign of something else readers will have picked up on by this point in the narrative–his capacity for denial in the face of evidence to the contrary of whatever it is he’s denying. This will manifest most specifically in his major chronic-tension issue, his role in the destruction of his marriage to Aileen due to his unwillingness to raise John. 

Another object that plays a prominent role in the novel, perhaps coming into play in the plot more directly than the houndstooth jacket, is the letter from Aileen that Agent Morrison gives back to Lee. This gesture on Morrison’s part after Lee has helped capture Whitehead shows that he’s redeemed himself to those who once considered him a possible suspect, but it also shows how this redemption goes beyond the acute tension and extends to the chronic–Lee has regained something of Aileen by confronting how he failed her. The object also adds layers of resonance to his early utterance to the bomb squad that he needs to call his wife–in a sense, she’s answered him. The letter then comes into play directly when Mark reads it, and since it’s about how Aileen cared for him, it brings into stark relief for him what he’s lost. The object of the letter also recalls the other prominent letter in the plot, the one Whitehead initially sends to Gaither. This is what leads to Lee becoming a person of interest, but it’s important to remember that Whitehead sent Lee the letter because–in a twist that resembles how the bomber himself is eventually caught–he read the news story about him decrying the crime against Hendley (and secretly getting off on his “eloquent outrage”). Lee is not being elaborately framed as he comes to believe at one point; he’s actually brought all this on himself. 

-SCR