100 Cupboards

“A population of dolls was scattered throughout the room. Some, china-skinned and delicate, stood in a line across the top of the dresser, each propped up by its own metal stand. A few others, with floppy limbs and stitched features, sprawled on beds, and one, a plastic child, lay on its side looking at Henry. One of its eyes was shut. A little creepy, Henry thought.”

Henry’s three cousins share a bedroom on the second floor, just down the hall from the mysterious Grandfather’s room. Penelope, the oldest, is more serene, but the two younger girls are lively and full of play and mischief; the dolls represent their spirit, and something else—perhaps a sense of magic. In fantasy and horror stories, dolls often foretell strange and sometimes dangerous events to come.

“Henry had never heard of such a thing as a forgotten door. Back at school, he never would have believed such things existed. But here was different. There was something strange about here.”

A house in the middle of nowhere, three lively sisters with interesting parents, knobs twisting in the bedroom wall, something weird that happened that Henry can’t quite recall: It’s a very different place from his restricted life back in Boston. He must, all at once, wrap his head around his parents’ disappearance, life in an entirely new place, and eerie things hidden in his bedroom wall. Henry would be a fool not to think his life had taken a strange turn. From here, it can only get stranger. By repeatedly utilizing the word “here,” instead of the name of the place—“Henry,” or even “the Willis house”—Wilson further establishes a sense of place and inculcates the reader in the presence of the story.

“If there really were forgotten doors and secret cities, and maps and books to tell you how to find them, then he needed to know.”

In a fantasy-adventure novel, there’s really only one way for the hero to respond to strangeness: explore it further. Henry begins to break free from his formal, cloistered, slightly boring life and begins to reach out to the vast possibilities that await him. There’s magic in the air, and Henry wants to catch it. This passage indicates a shift in Henry as he begins to lean into, rather than away from, adventure.

“He threw a fist in the air. ‘Two years have my black ships sat before Troy, and today its gate shall open before the strength of my arm.’ Dotty was laughing from the kitchen. Frank looked at his nephew. ‘Henry, we play baseball tomorrow. Today we sack cities. Dots! Fetch me my tools! Down with the French! Once more into the breach, and fill the wall with our coward dead! Half a league! Half a league! Hey, batter, batter!’”

Frank decides that today is the day he’ll get the door open to Grandfather’s room. He declaims like a hero of old literature on his way to war. His daughters applaud their eccentric and lovable father. There’s a wisdom to Frank’s goofiness and more to him than most people expect. In this passage, Wilson utilizes icons of literature and myth, further establishing these as the foundation of his own story.

“‘Why would any of these be in your bedroom?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Henry said. ‘I guess someone could have just been a sort of collector. You know, of little things with doors. They must have just liked cupboards.’ ‘No,’ Henrietta said. ‘It has to be more exciting than that.’ Henrietta sat up on the bed and crossed her legs. ‘Somebody hid them all, so they’re supposed to be secret. We have to get them open and find out why.’”

Henrietta has more imagination than Henry, and already she can see the potential of the cupboards. Her idea, that a secret collection must hide something important, is more exciting than Henry’s rather pale, practical guesses. This passage begins to establish the paradigm of Henrietta and Henry: She creative and adventurous, he practical and reserved, who together make a great team.

“Despite his concerns, he was truly curious about the cupboards. He knew that if they got another one open, he would be terrified. But he would be sick with himself if he didn’t try.”

Henrietta has no qualms about exploring the cupboards, even though she expects that some will contain bad things. This causes Henry to quail with fear. Like his cousin, though, Henry is filled with curiosity about their find, and it’s that curiosity that wins out. While adventure is often synonymous with danger, Henry begins to recognize that regret is just as dangerous.

“He wouldn’t go to school in Kansas if his parents were back. Something knotted in his stomach. He felt horribly guilty. Only a few days in a new house, and he had already forgotten them. They were probably miserable. But, he thought, it wasn’t completely his fault for forgetting. Strange things had been distracting him. Of course he hoped they would be found and returned. But if that was going to happen, it was going to happen whether or not he worried about it. And he was playing baseball, and Zeke did want him to come to his house, and, most importantly, he needed to figure out what was going on in his bedroom.”

Henry likes his new life in Kansas with his aunt’s nice family, baseball, and the mysterious cupboards. He feels guilty because, if his folks are found quickly, this new adventure might end abruptly, and he will be disappointed. His old family life, with its strict rules—today he drank his first soft drink!—stultified him and made him overly cautious; in Kansas, he’s beginning to stretch out, take risks, and enjoy life more. But to readers, this willingness to forget his parents probably raises a few alarm bells regarding his connection to them, therefore foreshadowing the truth: They are not his real parents.

“The yellow place was not something that would have normally intrigued Henry, and a man’s pant leg never would have. But seeing them just through a small box in his bedroom wall, which he knew to be an exterior wall facing the barn and miles of fields, made them far more interesting. And so Henry stared for quite a long time, at nothing much, which should never have been there.”

Henry’s wall of cupboards has come to life. First one door pops open and a cold, rainy wind rushes through, dousing his room; then the window box with a postcard in it lights up, and Henry opens it to find someone walking around beyond the other end of the box, someone who places an envelope in Henry’s box. That these things are happening in the wall of his room is barely believable yet clearly real. A grand adventure, one that Henry would never have even considered possible, is about to begin. He already recognizes the shift these events are inspiring in him, making him more curious and brave.

“Midsummer Sir, In the course of our contempora ritualisms, we have discerned that certane of the lost byways have been both aired et stirred. We need not explain the means of our discernimentata, as you must be no strange face to our scientistics et were no doubt awarned that you had notified us of your presence as ripely as you had done so. Former or freshe, master of the box you are. You fanger-grase the compassi, et you must kendle our intentions. Wake the old daughter of the second sire. We will not live for less. Do this et feel your freedoms breathe. Fail, et our order will sophistri in strength. See, the blud-eagle is no hen. Darius, First amung the Lastborn Magi, W.D. of Byzanthamum.”

Henry and Henrietta discover this message in the mailbox cupboard, along with a postcard addressed to “Simon” (Grandfather’s name) and a letter that warns the recipient not to re-open the cupboards. The writer assumes the children have inherited responsibility for both the boxes and Grandfather’s old dealings with sorcerers and magicians. Already the kids can sense they’re in trouble. The writing in the letter is of another world, but also of history, combining elements of Latin (“et” meaning “all) and old English. It indicates that Henry and Henrietta are engaging with more fantastical realms found in literature.

“‘I’m sure you can be as brave as a girl who is younger and smaller than you are if you try. Let’s just find out a little more about the cupboards, and then we’ll decide whether or not to tell Dad. Okay?’ She grinned at him. ‘Fine,’ Henry said. He couldn’t have said anything else.”

Though both of them are nervous, it’s Henrietta who wants to explore further the mystery of the cupboards. She shames Henry into agreeing by utilizing traditional gender and age roles, which she upends, to push him into agreement. By nature and experience, Henry is overly cautious, and a little adventure should be good for him, but his carefulness has its own wisdom, and sometimes that’s smarter than a headlong rush into possible trouble.

“Henrietta pointed. ‘You should wash the blood off your hand. It’s kind of gross, eating like that.’ Henry shrugged. He hadn’t washed for two reasons. First, because his fingers didn’t hurt that much, and he thought that washing them might. Second, because he felt about ten years older every time he saw his bloody hand.”

Henry saved Henrietta by stabbing at the hand that grabbed her arm inside the black Endor box; in doing so, Henry cut himself with his own knife. It doesn’t matter: He was brave and did what he could to save his cousin from a cupboard so black with evil that it once made him throw up. He really is years older, and much more courageous, than he was when he arrived in Kansas, and he takes pride in his bravery and maturation.

“Henry successfully kept his mind on the game, which might seem strange for a boy who slept beside a wall of magic. But baseball was as magical to him as a green, mossy mountain covered in ancient trees. What’s more, baseball was a magic he could run around in and laugh about. While the magic of the cupboards was not necessarily good, the smell of leather mixed with dusty sweat and spitting and running through sparse grass after a small ball couldn’t be anything else.”

Kansas has opened Henry’s eyes, not merely to the magic in the wall behind his bed, but to the wonders of summer, growing up, making friends, and learning new things. The cupboards have helped him discover his inner courage, but they also have their downsides. Henry relishes the release of a simple game of baseball, an activity he no longer fears and one that lets him decompress from the stresses of the magic hidden in his bedroom wall. For Henry, exploring these symbols of normalcy is just as satisfying as solving the mysteries hidden in the walls.

“I understand that the cupboards cannot remain hidden forever and can hardly expect that you have forgotten them, as memories such as the ones you formed as children are not easily struck from the mind’s page. You will rediscover the cupboards, and you will find it necessary to explore them. This is written so that you may avoid harm, such as is possible in such undertakings.”

Grandfather Simon’s journal explains the cupboards and warns the next generation about their dangers. He also admits that he can’t expect them to resist exploring the boxes, just as he and his father once did. Henry discovers the journal before Dotty and Frank, and the adventure falls to him. Grandfather’s words indicate the spirit of the Willis family—bold, curious, adventurous—and the unstoppable, unavoidable nature of that spirit.

“Henry pulled in as much of the Badon air as he could manage and listened to the breeze roll and toss too many leaves to count. The air moved gently, but the sound of its leaf passage was strong and constant, like many waters. It felt right on his face. He could smell the moss and the soft earth and sunshine. His bones tingled with—with—he didn’t know what. Magic? Memory? He couldn’t keep his eyes in one place. They kept chasing motion—motion they couldn’t quite catch. They were trying to watch the wind. This is where I want to be, Henry thought.”

Something about Badon entices Henry. He has dreamed about it before this visit, and always it seems to be a good place. Even his new friend Richard finds Badon enchanting. Blake the cat, however, knows something about Badon and doesn’t want Henry dilly-dallying there. In this passage, Wilson and his protagonist equate memory with magic, a beautiful symbol for the power of memory and nostalgia.

“There is no known protocol for how young girls ought to behave when discovering small older men puttering around in an already mysterious bedroom. Henrietta did her best. ‘Excuse me,’ she said softly.”

Henrietta finds an old man in Grandfather’s room. This must be the person who’s somehow managed to live in the room these past two years since Grandfather died. No doubt he, like Henrietta, has a key to the room, but who is he? This is the point where Henry would become terrified, but Henrietta simply walks up to the old man and begins a conversation. This presents Henrietta’s bold and brave nature and her willingness to take chances in order to solve puzzles.

“‘The boy’s white grass,’ [Frank] said. ‘Like when you leave a board in the yard. You pick it up after a coupla weeks or days even, and the grass underneath is all white and yellow. No sunshine. Only, Henry’s been under a board in the yard for longer than a coupla days.’”

Frank tells Dotty not to worry about Henry. The boy will rise like pressed grass now that he’s released from his restrictive life. Frank and Dotty know more than that, but for now they’re keeping mum.

“The boy was there for dinner, but he didn’t talk to me at all. He was older than I was, and he was lean and dark, with a bright smile and eyes that were always laughing. I’d never seen a boy sit up so straight or look right through you like he could, and he wasn’t at all afraid of Daddy.”

Dotty describes to her daughters the day she met their father. Frank came from one of the cupboard worlds and has been there ever since. He and Grandfather never could get Frank home, and finally Grandfather plastered up the cupboards to stop bad things from getting into the house. The family, and its history, are tied intimately to the cupboards. Here, Dotty also indicates Frank’s differentness and its appeal to her.

“At the bottom of the attic stairs stood a woman, not tall but beautiful, holding a mangy cat. The cat looked at Frank, but the woman’s pale eyes stared past him. She smiled, and her smooth olive skin glowed. Her hair, black as obsidian and straight, collected the light from the landing and shone as she moved. ‘Where is the boy?’ she asked. ‘Another sleeps in his bed.’ She stroked her cat. ‘And he had little strength to give.’”

The witch Nimiane confronts Frank while searching for Henry, whose blood she craves. This is the first truly evil person in the book; she cares only for her own impatient urges and will use or discard people—like Richard—as she sees fit. Frank knows something about her; it’s no wonder that he reaches for his knife just before they do battle. In this scene, we also learn of Nimiane’s ability to transform herself into a more appealing character in order to manipulate others, a typical attribute of mythical witches.

“‘Silence!’ The man’s voice was thunder. This time he gestured with his staff, and the great windows exploded into shards, showering the crowd with glass. ‘You have long kept out the Witch-Queen with your tokens! Nimiane now sees that your tokens are gone, and so will you be. We are the Witch-Dogs, and she feeds us well.’”

Henry and Henrietta listen as the wood in the structure of the ruined ballroom of FitzFaeren Hall dreams of its past, when Faeren partygoers and the hall itself met their fates at the hands of the minions of the evil witch Nimiane, who returns to haunt Henry and his adopted family. Here again Wilson intertwines magic and memory, this time the memory of the Faeren, to indicate both the history and future of the narrative.

“Then the woman coughed, and Anastasia saw her face. She had no eyes. Where her eyes ought to have been were swollen sores, red against her white skin. Around the sores were the trailing scratches of fingernails. Her head was shorn near-bald, but the stubble of her hair was dark.”

Nimiane’s body, old and weak, needs Henry’s blood to revive it. As she deteriorates, her ability to spellbind others into seeing her as a beautiful queen begins to falter; with every cough, her true appearance shows through. Her deformities hint at past evils and suggest the penalties her body has paid for her unnatural powers.

“When Henrietta reached the attic room, she looked around. It was very cold and strange with all the doors open. A tiny square of sunset poured through one, moonlight dribbled through another. Most were simply dark. Different-flavored breezes played through Henrietta’s hair. The room felt like it was breathing, like she was standing in a lung, with air moving in and out of the different cupboards. A cloud of dust was floating down from a small door near the top of the wall, and Henrietta could hear voices, singing, laughter, clinking glasses, knives scraping on plates.”

The witch forces open all the cupboards in her search for Henry. Henrietta finds them agape, and for a moment their wonders hang in the air, holding her in thrall. The author demonstrates a magician’s mastery in evoking a sense of awe; in these passages, the book’s enchantment shines through.

“It is the finding of the committee that Whimpering Child (hereafter: WC) has aided, abetted, and enabled the unearthing and potential reestablishment of old evil and is a danger to the faeren people, himself, and the tapestry of reality. WC shall henceforth be identified as Enemy, Hazard, and Human Mishap to all faeren in all districts, all worlds, and all ways. […] the committee has authorized, yea, demanded, that he be hampered, hindered, detained, damaged, or destroyed.”

For his trouble trying to rescue Henrietta from the cupboard worlds, Henry finds himself now doubly in danger. Nimiane is still alive, and the Faeren consider him some sort of wicked sorcerer who must be killed. The letter indicates the involvement between worlds and the greater scope of Henry’s actions.

“He hadn’t asked for this. He hadn’t wanted to free a witch. He’d actually had very little to do with it. Well, he had chipped all the plaster off his wall and uncovered the cupboards. There was that. But that hadn’t even been his fault.”

Henry receives a letter from Nimiane’s Witch-Dogs thanking him for freeing the witch, and a letter from the Faeren declaring him an enemy to be killed. This outcome clearly is unfair: All he did was try to figure out the cupboards. That doesn’t remove the dangers he now faces, however. Nothing is resolved, and Henry finds his world filled with peril. This passage indicates a classic element of the hero’s journey in which the protagonist is reluctant to take up the mantle but, begrudgingly, accepts his fate and role.