Definition of Foreshadowing
In Section One, the appearance of the Sea of Flames increasingly worries Marie-Laure, serving as an ill omen or foreshadowing of future tragedy. The gem is known to bring grief wherever it goes:
Rumors circulate through the Paris museum, moving fast, as quick and brightly colored as scarves.
The museum is considering displaying a certain gemstone, a jewel more valuable than anything
else in all the collections. [...] Some people call it the Shepherd’s Stone, others call it the Khon-Ma, but soon enough everyone is calling it the Sea of Flames. Marie-Laure thinks: Four years have passed.
In Section One, Doerr includes a wide array of details and context clues intended to foreshadow the impending war, hinting at an increasingly hostile social climate in Germany and an increasingly tense political climate in France. In one passage, Doerr highlights Frau Elena's increasing reticence to speak French around the Zollverein orphans, using this reality to foreshadow future events in Nazi Germany:
Unlock with LitCharts A+Frau Elena speaks French less and less frequently whenever Hans and Herribert are present. She finds herself conscious of her accent. The smallest glance from a neighbor can make her wonder.
In Section One, the appearance of the Sea of Flames increasingly worries Marie-Laure, serving as an ill omen or foreshadowing of future tragedy. The gem is known to bring grief wherever it goes:
Unlock with LitCharts A+Rumors circulate through the Paris museum, moving fast, as quick and brightly colored as scarves.
The museum is considering displaying a certain gemstone, a jewel more valuable than anything
else in all the collections. [...] Some people call it the Shepherd’s Stone, others call it the Khon-Ma, but soon enough everyone is calling it the Sea of Flames. Marie-Laure thinks: Four years have passed.
In the following example of foreshadowing, Marie-Laure imagines the descent of the German army on Paris as a giant hand, closing in around herself and her city:
Unlock with LitCharts A+Those last nights in Paris, walking home with her father at midnight, the huge book clasped
against her chest, Marie-Laure thinks she can sense a shiver beneath the air, in the pauses between the chirring of the insects, like the spider cracks of ice when too much weight is set upon it. As if all this time the city has been no more than a scale model built by her father and the shadow of a great hand has fallen over it.