Storytelling Theme Analysis

“Mom told me, ‘Don’t be like Icarus, Ellie. Caution is our friend.’ Because I was immature back then, I asked, ‘Aren’t we supposed to take risks?’”

“That’s a good question,” Jay said. “Not immature at all.”

“Mom thought I was being—in her words—obstinate,” Ellie said. [...] “What I’m trying say is: this summer, investigating my cousin’s murder, we might skirt the line between wise and unwise danger. It’s hard to know that you’re flying too high until the feathers start dropping.”

“Here,” Lenore said, handing Ellie a velvet-wrapped parcel. “He wanted you to have this.”

Gingerly, Ellie unwrapped Trevor’s Swiss Army knife. “He used to carry this during hikes,” she said. “Every hike. Even little ones in Grandma’s yard. Just in case.” She held it carefully. “I’ll always carry it, too.”

“That’s Trevor,” Lenore said. “Prepared for just about anything. It didn’t help him in the end.”

“The two made off with four hundred dollars, Marlboros, and ten bags of dried meat. I remember a news reporter saying, ‘They killed a man for just four hundred dollars.’ And I thought that the word ‘just’ was completely unnecessary. No amount of money would make the crime less heinous. I don’t care if there was four billion dollars in that register, Ellie.”

Despite all of the warnings Ellie had heard her whole life, the fact remained: waking up a human ghost was like getting struck by lightning. Extremely unlikely but dangerous enough that precautions had to be respected. When it came to attracting electricity during a thunderstorm, there were ways to improve the odds. Fly an aluminum kite. Stand under a tall tree. Wave a metal pole at the tumultuous clouds. Likewise, if somebody wanted to wake up a ghost, they could repeat the deceased’s name, disturb their burial ground, or otherwise meddle with the dead person’s body, possessions, home, or family.

“Nathaniel Grace learned a lesson from the fire. He made friends with other Pilgrims by hurting the people who frightened them more than he did.”

Page five continued, with a picture of a boxy building, “Nathaniel Grace made a hospital with the money he earned. He saved many lives.”

[...]

The final page displayed an anatomically accurate drawing of a leech. It belonged in a biology textbook, not a historical biography. Brett concluded: “Nathaniel Grace is a great American because he saved the lives of many people like presidents and war heroes. Without him, the country would not be the same and there would be no Willowbee. He founded the town to be a good home.”

“But you knew the story,” Vivian said. “Somebody told it to you?”

“Yeah. A teacher. I can’t remember which one. Could have been during English class a few years ago.”

“Did it help you learn about volume, density, and displacement?”

“Uh-huh. It’s hard to forget a story about Archimedes streaking through a city. The mental image alone is burned into my mind.”

“It helps my students, too,” she said. “That’s why some stories are particularly important. They’re more than entertainment. They’re knowledge.”

“Only one kind of monster uses guns,” Vivian said.

“I am a neutral force,” Dr. Allerton said. “My healing balances my harm. Ellie, I tried to help you and your family. Did you know that I collected scholarship money for Trevor’s child? Well? Enough to pay for college! For grad school! You just wouldn’t let it go. Everything is a mess now.”

“Shut it,” Ellie said. “All the scholarships in the world can’t be a father to Gregory.”

“I guess I should start from the beginning,” she said. “When I was a kid, my parents took me to the pound. That’s where I met a dog...”

She’d say his name and tell his story. Maybe, someday, he’d follow the words home.