Pale Horse, Pale Rider Summary & Analysis

Porter’s use of the word “pale” to describe the stranger’s face further implies that the stranger represents death, drained of all vitality. When Miranda realizes that the stranger is in fact “no stranger,” she means that she is familiar with death: that she has experienced the death of loved ones.

Miranda’s dream might have been morbid, but her reality is not much different: the country is in the midst of World War I. There is no escaping the reality of this; the realization that the country is at war hits Miranda like “a gong” the minute she wakes up.

Boche is a derogatory term for Germans, in particular German soldiers. Miranda’s description of the men as “too well nourished” and with “a stale air of borrowed importance” betrays how she really feels about them and the work they do. The men are bumbling and unremarkable, their importance “borrowed” only by virtue of the tedious, temporary job the government has hired them to do. The men cite “our American boys fighting” in order to make Miranda feel guilty—that forking over a puny $50 is really the least Miranda can do, and what’s more, it’s nothing compared to the dangerous work of these “boys” are doing. But Miranda sees the men’s rhetoric as hypocritical. In her observation that the older man “might be anything at all,” she implies that that he is motivated by the power and status this job provides him—not by virtue, patriotism, or genuine concern for the “boys fighting and dying.”

Miranda is disgusted by these men, though she doesn’t say so aloud. In her head, Miranda throws the men’s own words right back in them, asking why they “aren’t [] rotting in Belleau Wood?” Miranda’s scorn minimizes the supposed importance of the committeemen. Although they act as though they are concerned, patriotic citizens (and try to make Miranda feel that she is not), it’s not as though they’re fighting and dying in the war. They’re hardly any better than Miranda—they only talk the talk.

Miranda constantly longs for sleep. This shows how exhausted she is by the task of living. It also foreshadows the illness that lies in her near future.

Miranda’s distaste for volunteering mirrors her earlier frustration with the committeemen. She believes that the supposed patriotism that motivates all these “fresh” young women to volunteer is insincere and symbolic at best. That these women are “wallowing in good works” suggests that they get more out of what the works do for them than what it does for the soldiers. To Miranda, what these women like most is to appear patriotic and selfless; in reality they are self-indulgent. Although Porter converted to Catholicism when she married her first husband, she would eventually grow critical of religion. The reader could interpret Miranda’s criticism of the volunteers’ selfish motivations as Porter’s critique of the role of selfishness in religious salvation. To act charitably in order to achieve salvation involves an element of selfishness, inviting the reader to question whether selfishness diminishes the integrity of charitable acts.

As further evidence that the women’s patriotism is staged, Miranda points out that the girls’ laughter only seems “refreshingly gay.” The laughter is not sincerely cheerful; rather, it is manufactured to appear that way. Even the hospital possesses a staged quality: though wounded, the soldiers are perfectly, “picturesquely bandaged.” To Miranda, everything about this loathsome scene is constructed so that the volunteers may leave feeling warm, fuzzy, and important.

Adam is a ray of sunshine in Miranda’s otherwise grim, frustrating existence. Still, daydreams of Adam don’t fully erase Miranda’s ongoing anxieties. Adam—and the possibility for human connection he comes to represent—isn’t enough to rid Miranda of life’s troubles: she remains sick, anxious, and alienated. When Miranda looks in the mirror and sees that her earlier “uneasiness was not all imagination,” she confirms that the presence of love cannot completely erase the pains of living.  

If paleness symbolizes death, then Miranda’s description of Adam as “all olive and tan and tawny, hay colored and sand colored” suggests that she disassociates Adam from death. This description exudes warmth and color—it is in striking contrast to the pale, gray imagery Miranda uses in passages that concern war and influenza. Consciously or unconsciously, Miranda avoids thinking about Adam’s mortality.

Adam also avoids thinking about his mortality, but in a different way. He defends the health concerns of smoking with the inadequate, humorous excuse that he might just die in battle anyway, so there’s no use in worrying about lung disease and all the other health problems that smoking can bring about. When Adam refers to the 1918 influenza pandemic as a “funny new disease,” he minimizes the true horror and downplays the seriousness of it. Adam’s use of humor suggests that he (like Miranda) is uncomfortable with the real possibility of death, so he must minimize death into a joke.

Again, Adam avoids a problem—Miranda possibly coming down with an illness—by moving the conversation in a cheerier, shallower direction. He ignores Miranda’s concerns, choosing instead to talk about the war. When he talks about the war, though, he doesn’t bring up its heavier aspects, such as death or illness. He focuses instead on the “good” elements, like his fun training exercises. Both Miranda and Adam are clearly anxious—about illness, war, Adam’s upcoming deployment—yet both leave these anxieties unspoken.

Miranda feels as close as she can to Adam in this moment. She looks back at him one last time because she doesn’t want to sever the rare moment in which she feels even “the lightest bond” with another human. She doesn’t want to return to the solitude and alienation that is her default condition.

In the midst of a conversation dealing with difficult issues (the overwhelming amount of sickness and death caused by the 1918 influenza outbreak) Miranda redirects her thoughts to hyper-cheerful memories of dates with Adam. It seems that Miranda uses Adam to avoid confronting life’s difficulties; the fact that Adam and Miranda have fit so many lighthearted activities into the short span of 10 days suggests that Miranda is particularly desperate to escape from the prison of her mind. The war and the influenza outbreak have only increased Miranda’s sense of alienation, and she leaps at the chance to forget about her troubles, even if it’s only for a few hours spent dancing.

Like Miranda, Towney thinks putting on airs of patriotism is phony. Even though Towney looks down on the theatrics of volunteering, however, she doesn’t express her distaste out loud. Chuck’s words on the war are similarly insincere. Though he speaks harshly (“Let ‘em perish where they fall”), it is only because he is bitter and defensive about not being allowed to fight. Miranda, Towney, and Chuck’s conversation illustrates the insincerity so often present in communication. Three friends are coming together in discussion, yet none of them say what’s truly on their mind.

Miranda feels bad about hurting the actor. It’s unclear why, exactly, though it’s possible she feels upset by wasting or misusing a possibility for human connection. Her words clearly got through to the man—but not in the positive, productive way that would alleviate Miranda’s overwhelming sense of alienation.

Again, Porter foreshadows Miranda’s illness.  Porter’s use of ambiguous language when Miranda says she’s “getting ready to leave” her job makes it unclear whether Miranda means she intends to quit, or that she’ll be forced to leave because “something terrible is going to happen to [her].” The reader should connect Miranda’s ambiguous remark, “something terrible is going to happen to me,” with her previous allusions to feeling uneasy and unwell. The fact that Miranda only alludes to her fears to Chuck illustrates her own reluctance to address difficult issues. It also implicates her in the alienating behavior of others (not saying what one means) of which she is so critical.

Miranda questions how much one can really know about the people around them. Miranda is certain that there are others in the crowd with whom she might have a genuine connection, yet the possibility is shattered because nobody can break free of their public persona. What one “say[s]” is not who they are.

Miranda wants to love Adam, but she won’t let herself: “the present threat” that Adam might die in the war is too much for Miranda to bear, so she seals herself off from the possibility of grief and suffering.

The bondsman’s position onstage represents the theatricality of patriotism. That the American flag that accompanies him is “improperly and disrespectfully exposed” betrays the man’s integrity. Though he speaks of patriotism and supporting one’s country, his message is only for show. Adam’s mocking comment that he “looks like a penguin” further minimizes the man’s self-importance. The audience’s song suggests that they have been duped by the man’s appearance of patriotism—they’ve bought the message he’s selling, and they demonstrate their allegiance through their trance-like, sung response.

Miranda hates how persuasive the man was to the audience. The man’s message conveys the false truth that the war is a noble thing, and it is right and just to support it. Miranda shifts her focus beyond her distaste for the man to the larger psychological impact of war. She thinks that war shuts people deeper inside themselves, increasing social and personal alienation.

Miranda doesn’t want to accept that she and Adam might be separated—by illness or by war—so she ignores her symptoms and enjoys the night they have together. Miranda’s choice not to voice her concerns also speaks to a lack of depth in their relationship: Miranda and Adam spend most of their time going on cheery, uncomplicated dates, and they rarely discuss the issues that trouble them. Miranda’s silence also implicates her in the falseness she criticizes in others. Miranda feels alienated by the disingenuous public demeanors of others, but she is guilty of this behavior, too. 

Miranda feels unclose to Adam. There is so much that goes unspoken and untouched between them—they rarely broach difficult subjects, such as her possible illness or the dangers of war. Thus, Miranda envies this couple who—even in silence—manages to understand and comfort one another. Miranda wants this level of depth and connection in all her relationships.

Miranda’s premonition that something horrible will happen to her has come true: she has fallen ill with influenza. Porter sets up the reader for this reveal through Miranda’s consistent observations that she feels unwell or uneasy, through characters’ indirect references to an unnamed disease, and in the constant presence of funeral processions. Still, Porter only uses the word  “influenza” twice in the story, so the reader must rely on outside knowledge of the 1918 influenza pandemic to make this connection. 

Things escalate quickly. Only the night before Miranda and Adam were out dancing, and now everything is different: now, Miranda may be on her deathbed.  It’s also worth noting that even as she is surrounded by people who care for her—like Bill, Adam, and the doctor—Miranda feels desperately alienated and alone.

Miranda’s premonitions have finally come to fruition: “something” has happened to her, and that something is probably influenza. Miranda has had so much time to think about (and avoid thinking about) Adam’s death, but now the tables have turned, and she must think about her own. Miranda admits to Miss Hobbe that she likely has influenza, but she is less direct with Adam. Although Adam knows how dire Miranda’s condition is, Miranda keeps her bedside interactions with him purposely light and shallow. In the midst of this grave circumstance, Miranda doesn’t feel comfortable confiding in Adam. This underscores Miranda’s sense of alienation while illustrating the relative shallowness of her relationship with Adam. 

The tragedy of death is incurred not by the dead themselves, but by those left behind to mourn them. In the song “Pale Horse, Pale Rider,” the narrating voice plays the role of mourner.

Miranda and Adam are completely honest with one another. When Adam’s face “clear[s]” it signifies that Miranda finally feels the connection she longs for. It also foreshadows the clear eyes Miranda will witness in her later climactic dream of complete human connection. The fact that Miranda only sees Adam clearly “for an instant” suggests that in reality the human connection she craves is a rare and fleeting phenomenon—not the default condition.

Like in her dream at the beginning of the story, Miranda is able to more clearly confront the big issues—death, illness, and grief—in the realm of the unconscious. All of the issues Miranda has avoided thinking about rise to the surface when she hallucinates. Dream-Adam’s “perpetual death and resurrection” represents all the times Miranda has rejected thoughts of Adam’s mortality. Psychologically, repeatedly denying Adam’s death only causes him to die again and again—that is, denial of death only magnifies the impact of its grief.

Miranda’s dream was clearly symbolic of her denial of Adam’s death. Adam’s refusal to hear the details of Miranda’s dream reinforces that Adam, too, is in denial of his death. When Adam instructs Miranda to “be very quiet,” Porter shows that Adam doesn’t want Miranda thinking about death, further emphasizing Adam’s avoidance of difficult issues.

In addition to her mental and emotional alienation, Miranda is now physically alienated, sick and alone in the hospital.

In “Pale Horse, Pale Rider,” the color white symbolizes sickness. When Miranda suggests that the “whiteness” that surrounds her might be “the absence of pain,” she insinuates that her sickness—and the death in which it might result—could bring about an end to her alienation and suffering. Still, Miranda reflects on how the unfairness of death taunts the living. The man on the gurney did nothing wrong—he has committed no “crime,” yet he cannot evade his “punishment” of death.

Because this story is set in the United States during World War I, Miranda’s vision of Dr. Hildesheim as a German soldier positions him as a an enemy or villain. Miranda reconfigures Dr. Hildesheim as the villain because it seems that she does not want to be saved. Her life is full of alienation, suffering, tragedy, and war—but in death, as Miranda observed earlier, she might be offered  “an absence of pain.”

Again, Porter evokes the symbolic color white: Miranda hallucinates that Miss Tanner’s hands are “white tarantulas,” suggesting that Miss Tanner is not saving her, but inflicting ills on her. Similar to her hallucination of Dr. Hildesheim as “the Boche,” Miranda renders Miss Tanner as a villain who stands in the way of her desire to die and be “painless.”

Grayness, or paleness, is symbolic of death throughout the story. Although Miranda feels that death might offer her freedom from the pains of life, she is still hesitant to die. She sees death and eternity as a chaotic, inescapable “whirlpool,” and she is overwhelmed. In contrast to the unknowability of death and eternity, the granite wall that she rests against provides a comforting sense of stability.

“Granite walls, whirlpools, [and] stars,” are only metaphorical or symbolic renderings of death and oblivion. They are yet another way Miranda manages to deny the reality of death. This denial causes Miranda to descend deeper into “darkness,” or unknowability. The scene shifts and Miranda’s instinct to live (imagined symbolically as a “particle”) removes her from darkness and places her in a new, lighter frame of mind. Miranda sees “the burning blue of the sea and the cool green of the meadow”; it seems as though Miranda has been transported from darkness and uncertainty to lightness and clarity. The implication is that the realizations about life and death she makes in this new land will be clearer.

This scene is so beautiful to Miranda because she can connect to these familiar people so easily and completely. That “their eyes [are] clear and untroubled” is meant to be taken in contrast to the clouded, concealing eyes of the people she interacts with in consciousness—people who do things for show and conceal the truth, such as the artificially cheerful volunteers; the opportunistic, phony Lusk Committeemen; and all those who quietly accept the atrocities of war. All that she finds troubling and disingenuous in life is remedied in this beautiful dream world. For once, Miranda’s alienation leaves her.

Miranda’s state of bliss is shattered when she is ripped away from the dead to be brought back to life. Miss Tanner administers a life-saving injection, but in so doing dismantles Miranda’s euphoric moment of human connection.

Two conflicts have been resolved: World War I is over, and Miranda has recovered from her illness. Yet, Miranda is still troubled. Her utterance of “Sweet land…oh, terrible land” is a rejection of the crowd’s celebratory singing. Miranda rises from unconsciousness more depressed and alienated than ever before; while others celebrate, she feels “a clamor of pain.” Despite the resolution of two external conflicts (sickness and war), Miranda’s core internal conflict (alienation) persists. This contradiction suggests that an absence of situational hardship doesn’t necessarily rid one of one’s internal suffering. It also shows that the transformative visions Miranda witnessed in her dreams are useless once she is awake. Confronting her problems in dreams is not the equivalent of confronting her problems in reality: it is only another means of avoiding and denying the big issues.

The transformation of her surroundings from white (which symbolizes illness) to gray (which symbolizes death) shows that Miranda’s illness has resulted in her symbolic death. Though she recovers from her illness, she is left feeling more alienated, depressed, and dead than before.

Miranda feels alienated from all her friends. The ecstasy of her near-death experience leaves Miranda feeling disappointed to be well again. She is sad that she must return to the violence and sadness of the mortal world, and she knows none of her friends will understand this.

Adam is gone. Miranda cannot summon forth his image: she can only mourn the loss of him. She also mourns for her own life: for all the alienation, tragedy, and death she will be forced to grapple with for the rest of her life. The final line of story, “Now there would be time for everything,” is a reference to Ecclesiastes 3 in the Old Testament. In its biblical interpretation, the line invites the reader to be hopeful, even in the face of tragedy. The world may be full of death and suffering, but God also provides the possibility of life and redemption—there is a time and place for everything. But Miranda’s application of the passage is ironic and cynical. To her, “everything” does not include hope or joy or healing—in life, Miranda laments, there is time only for grief, suffering, and death.