Character Description
A lot of metaphor usage in the book is devoted to delineating character. Part of the reason for this is that the characters here are unusual to say the least. A few might even better be described as grotesque. Certainly idiosyncratic at the very least and to be kind. So, the type of metaphor exemplified here is prevalent:
“Papa Cornelius is a limp puppet of himself, a rag without a manipulating hand inside.”
Margarethe’s Speaking Style
The character of Margarethe is peculiarly given to speaking in metaphorical imagery. Maguire’s characters do tend to engage complete metaphor in their discourse more than most authors, but then again his works are highly stylized. What might sound absurd as dialogue in a novel about life in the 21st century madness of America seems perfectly normal in this context:
“Perhaps the cloud of darkness in my eyes now has dimmed the sharp aspect of the world to me, but I see other things that I couldn’t see before. I see how people worry and how their lives are bound and trapped along that thread.”
Kinda Depressing Philosophy
Maguire’s books also tend to be notable for using metaphor to contemplatively—usually wistfully—ponder one’s philosophy. Since a great many of the characters in the retellings of familiar stories tend to aged, these philosophical metaphors often carry a distinctively depressing lesson that embodies the hardness of a life long lived:
“How children love the broken thing! And a puzzle is for the piecing together, especially for the young, who still believe it can be done.”
Or Maybe Simple Misanthropy
Of course, one way to interpret the philosophizing that is rampant in the author’s books for adult readers is that they reveal—perhaps not even consciously—a deep-seated strain of misanthropy on the author’s part. It would be a mistake, however, to attribute any individual philosophical point of view expressed by a character to the author because to do with any of them means you should do so with all of them. And that would be madness not misanthropy. Still, there’s an awful of commentary about human beings like this one running throughout this book as well as others in the author’s canon:
“In the lives of children, pumpkins can turn into coaches, mice and rats into human beings. When we grow up, we learn that it’s far more common for human beings to turn into rats.”
Art and Digestion
Starving artists are, of course, a longstanding trope associated with the divergence between creating something sublime and merely choosing to survive. Exactly how far back this idea that great art requires an empty stomach nobody knows for sure. But one thing is for sure: rarely has the concept been constructed with such metaphorical artistry:
“But I have to eat, I can’t live by the word of God alone…I need bread too. Damn the human stomach, this fat betrayer of my ideals.”
