Distance and Alienation Theme Analysis

Geographical and personal distance are key to Alistair MacLeod’s “The Lost Salt Gift of Blood,”  in which the narrator journeys 2,500 miles to Newfoundland to see his son John. The narrator fathered John while visiting the village as a graduate student, but hasn’t seen him since. As he awkwardly attempts to reconnect with John, MacLeod illustrates that emotional alienation cannot be resolved by closing a geographical gap. In charting the narrator’s failure to meaningfully connect with his son, MacLeod demonstrates how emotional distance and cultural difference can alienate people from one another—sometimes irreparably.

In “The Lost Salt Gift of Blood,” MacLeod shows that even when people reunite with one another geographically, the emotional distance between them persists. At the beginning of the story, for example, the landscape draws attention to geographical distance. The harbor rocks “loom yearningly out towards Europe,” and the harbor is “like a tiny, peaceful womb nurturing the life that now lies within it,” connecting physical closeness to intimacy and peace. However, some distances are still too far to be crossed: “beyond Cape Spear lies Dublin and the Irish coast […] seeming almost hazily visible now in imagination’s mist.” In actuality, Ireland is nearly 2,000 miles away. The description of “imagination’s mist” disguising the distance foreshadows the distance between the narrator and John. Although the narrator imagines their alienation can be overcome, this dream hides a distance that is, in reality, impassable. When he finally realizes that geographical closeness cannot heal the rift between them, he considers telling his son, “come away from the lonely gulls and the silver trout and I will take you to the land of the Tastee Freeze”—from Newfoundland and a relationship with his grandparents to the Midwest and a relationship with his father. However, he concludes, “I do not know enough of the fog on Toronto’s Queen St. West […] and of lost and misplaced love.” In other words, he realizes that geographical closeness doesn’t affirm emotional closeness—and that after 11 years apart, the emotional distance that hovers between them may linger for life.   

MacLeod outlines this alienation and emotional distance in terms of both geographical and cultural distance. The narrator’s geographical closeness actually emphasizes his ignorance of his son’s world. His alienation from Newfoundland culture is first clear when he watches a group of local boys fishing. When the boys are shouting encouragement, the narrator “[wishes] also to shout some enthusiastic advice but […] [does] not know what to say.” He sums up his experience with “my feet are wet and chilled within my shoes. No place to be unless barefooted or in rubber boots. Perhaps for me no place at all.” He has come to be with his son, but the only home his son knows is “no place at all” for him. In addition, while the grandparents and John are playing music, he feels like an “alien of [his] middle generation” and “tap[s] [his] leather foot self-consciously” while “the three of them […] sing, spanning easily the half-century that touches their extremes.” The two grandparents and the child share a culture the narrator lacks. The songs also suggest interpersonal alienation (“all he’d ask I would deny”) as well as isolation (“all alone as I strayed by the banks of the river”) and geographical separation (“wide is the gulf, love, between you and I”). Finally, the narrator’s alienation from the setting parallels the reader’s own alienation from the story’s universe. MacLeod is sparing with information, leaving the revelation that John is the narrator’s son to very late and never giving the details of the narrator’s relationship with John’s mother Jennifer. Like the narrator, the reader enters an unfamiliar world without understanding its foundations.

Lastly, although the narrator experiences a brief emotional connection with the grandfather, the ending affirms that the narrator’s alienation from his son, the town and its people are irreparable. Although short-lived, the narrator’s time with the grandfather is marked by a sense of community. The narrator refers to them as “we”—“we are warm within the dark”—suggesting intimacy rather than alienation. When the grandfather offers the narrator a drink, “before tasting it, [he knows] the rum to be strong and overproof,” demonstrating comfort with local customs. For a moment, it seems he may be able to overcome his emotional distance. However, later, he decides he has been “too much at home with […] this man’s house and all the feelings of his love.” His failure to connect with the old man contributes to his decision to leave John behind, believing “[he has] collected many things [he] did not understand” and “[he does] not know enough of the fog on Toronto’s Queen St. West and […] of lost and misplaced love.” His choice to separate himself from his son—possibly for good—is founded on his ignorance and alienation. MacLeod reaffirms this when, preparing to leave, the narrator says, “‘I think I will go back today’ […] I try to emphasize the ‘I.’” Though his emphasis affirms he is not taking John away, it also reinforces his isolation, an “I” rather than a “we.” His efforts at connection in this scene are also marred by alienation. When he “[turns his] head to the others” while accepting a beautiful stone from John, “they are both looking out through the window.” Similarly, though the narrator responds to the woman’s “I don’t know if you know what I mean, but thank you” with “I think I do,” suggesting tacit intimacy and knowledge, he and the couple also refute any possibility of further connection—at least in the near future—by agreeing they have no way to keep in touch. 

The story ends in insurmountable alienation between the narrator and his family. MacLeod contrasts this with a salesman on the narrator’s flight home, who reunites with his children as the narrator continues on without his son. Although both fathers have given their children the “gift of blood”—the gift of life and of family—the story affirms that forming a genuine and lasting bond requires far more than that.