The Stone Carvers Metaphors and Similes

The Stone Carvers Metaphors and Similes

Klara Loves Eamon

Part of the narrative involves a tragic love affair before Klara and Eamon. The portrait of the young Klara falling under the spell of patriotic Irishman is encapsulated in a metaphorical image that brings to vivid life the tumult of emotions associated with such a time in a young woman’s life:

The weeks passed and Klara was no better able to explain the suffocating tension that seemed to enter with Eamon through the door, how his presence made the clocks tick louder and louder in a silence that grew like a lengthening shadow.

Born to Carve

The needle and the chisel are the central symbols of the story. They are also the subtitle for Chapter I. The entire world of these characters revolves around the tools required for carving. That word is made plain through metaphor by one of the characters:

“The world always somehow takes us back to the chisel. Something happens and we have to respond.”

Everything is Carving

Everything is somehow or another ultimately related to carving. The references to the act of carving—to the use of the needle and the chisel—abound even within imagery one least expects it might:

She stood on the ladder, eyes squeezed shut, scraping these imagers from the deepest recesses of her memory as if using a sculpting tool on the inner curve of her skull.

Klara in Contemplation

Klara is presented in a moment of contemplation of her place in society. She takes stock of her life and what she is in comparison to what she could be. She is not a carver, she is a seamstress:

She knew she was a purveyor of costume, of disguise, a fabricator of persona, one who touched only the protective surface, never the skin, never the heart.

Sleeping Kiddie

Ever look at a child fast asleep and thought it looks like nothing more than a child who is fast asleep? Maybe, but only rarely. Angels spring to mind as a very common metaphor for such an image. But not everyone immediately connects the innocence of children to the ideal of cherubim:

A dreaming child is like a weed underwater, each limb languid, heavy beneath a dept of sleep.

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