56 pages • 1 hour read
Lisa GenovaA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Throughout the novel, clocks are a recurring symbol of Alice’s loss of time; as such, they function both as a marker and as a weapon. The different readings on Alice and John’s clocks at the start of the novel establish the relativity of time and the couple’s different natures and stances. Later, in Dr. Davis’s office, it is his request—and Alice’s inability—to draw a clock that humiliates and infuriates Alice; the clock, or lack thereof, is a symbol of her decline and of John’s increasing distance from her. By the end of the novel, Alice’s inability to tell time marks her decline, yet she still feels beholden to the idea of it, insisting on knowing the time before asking to go home, even if the two, at that moment, really have nothing to do with one another (280).
Alice’s BlackBerry functions as a symbol of her own wellbeing. At the start of the novel, while at dinner with Lydia, she leaves her BlackBerry behind at the table in an early indication of her lapses in memory, as she is unable to recall even using her BlackBerry at dinner (18). As the novel progresses, her BlackBerry becomes a symbol of her own agency: as a tool, the BlackBerry allows her to retain information she otherwise might know, while also holding the key to her original, ultimately failed, plan for when the disease finally took over too much of her mind. This plan fails in part because she is too detached to be capable of following the instructions in the file on her computer; prior to that, John finds her BlackBerry in the freezer, dead, representative of Alice’s own lost mind. (In an interesting, telling moment, Alice is unable to understand why she would cry over the loss of a technological device.)
Alice’s mother’s butterfly pendant serves as a charm, a connection to her past, and a marker for some of the more positive changes Alice undergoes. Broadly speaking, the pendant serves as a charm and represents the superstitious side of Alice, which rears its head from time to time, despite Alice being a logical person. As a symbol of progress, it shows Alice’s shift to focusing on the moment: she “had reserved it exclusively for special occasions” (111), but begins to wear it regularly, allowing it to become more a part of her personality, almost as a gift for herself. The fact that her mother only wore it on special occasions also suggests that Alice has begun to treat each day as its own special occasion. Lastly, it functions as a connection to her past, and as Alice reverts further into a childlike state, the pendant becomes a totem for her.
The book that Alice cowrote with John similarly functions as a totem. While it is only mentioned three times throughout the novel, it serves to indicate not only a past but a present for their marriage. When it is first mentioned, it serves as a marker for Alice to determine when they were next eligible for sabbatical, and it serves as an indicator to us that Alice and John were once not only spouses but research partners (101). The second time, Alice is in the midst of her battle, having just stepped down from teaching and feeling horribly lonely; she picks up the text as she goes through her past accomplishments, but tellingly puts it aside (193). The last time we see the text is at the very end of the novel, after Alice has fully succumbed to the disease; however, she recognizes the text, and it is enough to recognize her husband again, pull her back into the moment, and recall her past (283).
Running is a way for Alice to find clarity; for many years, she treated running “as a vital daily necessity” (19). However, running also serves as a marker for Alice’s condition and a symbol of her and John’s deteriorating relationship. It is while on a run that Alice has her first major lapse, when she is unable to find her way home from Harvard Square, despite having run that route frequently. Later, once she is diagnosed, it is suggested that she continue exercising as a way of easing her decline; however, John, who hates running, would have to go with her. At times, he does, particularly on the Cape; usually, though, he is too busy, which leads to Alice believing that he is “killing her” (198).
The sleeping pills Alice requests from Dr. Moyer act as a kind of Chekhov’s gun: we know their function, we understand the role they play in the larger narrative, and we continually wait for Alice to use them (thereby setting the gun off in the “third act”). As a mechanism for her own suicide, they, naturally, symbolize death. However, they also symbolize agency in two ways: first, by choosing to take her own life, Alice would be taking control over her death, not allowing the disease to choose the time of her death for her (or keep her imprisoned); second, in order to successfully end it, Alice must still retain some semblance of agency over her actions, so whether or not she is capable of going through with the deed serves as a marker for her own agency and deterioration. In the end, she is unable to follow through with the deed; however, it is unclear if this is truly because of a lack of agency or because of outside influence.
By Lisa Genova