68 pages • 2 hours read
Lawrence ThorntonA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
The motif of birds—specifically non-birds of prey—is significant in the novel. In their ability to travel long distances, birds represent a far-reaching network of other victims of tragedy, emphasizing Shared Tragedy as a Building Block of Community. This motif is thus first developed during Carlos’s visit to Esperanza, when Carlos follows “three Argentine goldfinches” toward the Sternbergs’ ranch (74). In leading Carlos to the Sternbergs, the finches have helped him forge an unlikely connection, made meaningful by a similar experience of tragedy. Without the finches’ almost supernatural intervention, Carlos may have kept driving on, forfeiting an opportunity for friendship, understanding, and a new perspective with which to develop his gift.
In addition to their suggestion of community, birds also reflect resilience. On their ranch, Amos and Sara Sternberg host a variety of birds, such as “parrots, macaws, and dozens of goldfinches” (75), and trace their interest back to their imprisonment at Auschwitz. There, the birds had landed on the electrified fences, only to vanish in “bright bursts of flame and smoke” (79). However, much to the Sternbergs’ surprise, the birds adapted, avoiding the camp entirely. Thinking back, Amos credits the birds as “sensitive to evil” and senses their relevance as “signs” (79): Watching the birds, the Sternbergs could understand the potential for survival.
After his encounter with the Sternbergs, Carlos develops an interest in birds himself, similarly reflecting his characteristic hope in the midst of dire circumstances. He dresses the child actors in his play The Names in bird costumes, signifying both their hope and defiance as they proclaim the names of the disappeared. Though Martín and other friends doubt Cecilia’s return, Carlos remains optimistic. This burst of hope is accompanied by a meaningful purchase: Two parakeets who might be “cousins to those the Sternbergs keep” (198). Singing in the background, the birds imbue the novel’s climax with an encouraging sense of hope, ultimately paving the way for Carlos’s reunion with Cecilia.
The vehicle of choice for Argentina’s militants, the Ford Falcon becomes synonymous with the junta’s coordinated effort to abduct suspected dissidents, becoming an important symbol of authoritarianism and death in the novel. Tellingly, all of the Falcons look similar: They sport green paint and scratched-out license plates, transporting “the regime’s enemies to jails, detention camps, or fields” (20). This example of sameness symbolizes the militants’ common devotion to the state; together, they abandon “individuality” (92) in the interest of a “single-minded vision” (91). The novel’s inclusion of these dark-green government-issued vehicles reflects the military government’s practices; thus, for many Argentinians, the Ford Falcon became associated with terror during the regime.
Furthermore, the name of the cars’ model—Falcon—is significant. Though elsewhere in the novel birds are associated with resilience, hope, and community, here, they take on a notably different connotation. Falcons are birds of prey, and to link them with the junta is to symbolically emphasize the predator-prey relationship between the junta and the rest of Argentina. Expanding upon this characterization, Thornton uses the manufacturer of the cars, Ford, to comment on the influence of international interests, as Ford is an American brand. This gestures toward the US’s involvement in masterminding the coup that replaced Argentina’s democratically-elected government. These Fords, then, reflect America’s willingness to back the junta, undermine democracy, and endanger Argentinian citizens for the sake of international leverage.
About half an hour after Cecilia’s abduction, Carlos returns home from the Children’s Theater, still unaware. Curious that Cecilia isn’t home, Carlos takes a brief inventory, noticing a plate of crudités—an appetizer of cold vegetables—left out on the kitchen table. Throughout the novel, as Carlos reflects on this pivotal moment, he returns often to the crudités, establishing a symbolic association between them and Cecilia’s disappearance.
The presence of the crudités highlights her abduction’s suddenness: Upon noticing them, Carlos first assumes that “Cecilia must have run short of something for dinner”(23) and left the house abruptly. After realization sets in, Carlos imagines Cecilia setting “the crudités on the table” (46) and answering a mysterious knock at the door—her last gesture before her abduction. In this light, the crudités represent the before, a period of relative aloofness in which the junta’s horrors had existed only abstractly. Carlos becomes hesitant to discard the crudités: When one of his caring aunts nearly throws them out, Carlos panics, having “attached something final to those dried-out vegetables” (25). As the crudités wither, Carlos has no choice but to grieve.