32 pages • 1 hour read
Sarah Shun-lien BynumA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
One of the most prevalent themes in “Likes” is the generational divide between Dave and Ivy that keeps them from understanding each other. This manifests most prominently in Ivy’s social media presence and Dave’s inability to understand it. Since Dave struggles to speak with Ivy—she often rebuffs his attempts to talk in the car—he tries to get to know her through her Instagram posts. However, he finds them inscrutable, in part because he and his generation are more accustomed to different forms of storytelling. Dave lacks Ivy’s generational vocabulary, represented clearly in the Instagram post of the pink neon sign that says “warm.” Devoid of any other context, the word loses its normal meaning, creating a moment of disconnect for Dave. As time progresses, the same words and signifiers take on new meanings, and it can be difficult for older generations to keep up.
At the same time, Sarah Shun-lien Bynum subverts the idea that Dave’s alienation from his daughter is purely generational. Ivy connects with other adults, like her physical therapist; where she is sullen and quiet with her father, she is talkative during her therapy sessions. The therapist is implied to be younger than Dave, but she is still an adult, showing that generational differences don’t have to result in divisions. Likewise, Dorothy intuitively understands how Ivy has curated her Instagram feed, a fact that confounds Dave. While Dorothy is disconnected from her daughter in other ways—she is alarmed by Snapchat, for example—this shared aesthetic vocabulary indicates that Dorothy and her daughter are connecting through gendered visual culture. They are from different generations, but they both understand their culture’s idea of femininity. Dave’s reaction to this information—calling the types of posts on Ivy’s feed “Groupthink”—reflects his disdain for youth culture in general. This is also shown in his interior monologues about influencers, which dismiss them as vapid. The contrast between Dave and other adults in the story hints that the generational divide is actually coming from Dave rather than from Ivy, as he presumes.
While Dave’s unsuccessful attempts to understand his adolescent daughter make up most of the story, his memories and reflections hint that they are not as different as they seem, and many of Ivy’s behaviors are simply due to her age. For example, he vividly remembers the names of his childhood classmates, showing that adolescence has an outsized impact on one’s psyche. Certain faces flash in his mind like “mug shots”—presumably his bullies given the negative comparison, this shows that he was also teased like his daughter. The parallels between them become clearer when Dave remembers his sprained ankle, where Ivy is also injured. This parallel resolves into a mirror image in the story’s final scene, where Dave and Ivy finally connect by making the same funny pose. This is a meaningful moment for Dave, one in which “[Ivy] had managed to convey through her body precisely what he’d been feeling since November: not crushed, not flattened, but flung, as if from an obliterating blast, against a hard, exposing surface” (201). In a moment of epiphany, Dave sees that they are not as divided as he thinks, and by overcoming the idea of generational bias, he can truly connect and commiserate with his child.
Ivy’s Instagram posts provide a lens through which to examine how identity is created, particularly for contemporary teens who have access to social media. As Ivy approaches her 12th birthday, she becomes further entrenched in the turbulence of adolescence—a time characterized by chaotic hormones, changing perceptions of the world, and shifting notions of self. It is a time when self-doubt is intensified by the criticisms of peers and parents alike. As a result, adolescents often attempt to achieve equilibrium by asserting an identity—even if that identity is not yet fixed. For Ivy, as with many teenagers, Instagram provides an outlet for this expression. With each Instagram post, she shapes her identity through things she likes: ballet tights, her dog, and desserts. Her pink color palette reflects a desire to be feminine; while she is young and still defining what femininity means for her, pink is a cultural shorthand through which she can play with gender expression. This coming-of-age life stage is also embodied in images of parts of her body, which express a budding sexuality: lips, earlobes, and collarbones. Notably, Ivy rarely posts photos of her full body, reflecting her tentative entry into her teenage years rather than fully embracing it.
This tension between childhood and growing up is present in the variety of things Ivy posts, which range from these more mature images to things like “a cupcake, frosted to look like the cute face of a pig” (188). It’s also visible in two scenes that involve swearing. In the first, Ivy sings along to the radio, mouthing words muted by the censors; while Ivy wants to be taken seriously and perceived as more grown up, this is a sweet, childlike image where she doesn’t feel comfortable cursing in front of her father. In another scene, she is frustrated about school and when Dave asks if she is okay, she asks whether she’s allowed to curse. Dave acquiesces, but Ivy ultimately expresses herself with clean language—Dave even wonders why she doesn’t swear. This reluctance reflects that she is not yet ready to grow up, even as she is dealing with complex emotions like rejection.
Ivy’s collection of inspirational quotes is another illustration of her shaping her identity. By contemplating the power of others’ ideas, Ivy is attempting to determine her personal philosophy. Unlike younger children who take on their parents’ worldview, Ivy is developing her own. When Dave finds the wooden plaque that Ivy has taken from above her bed and placed it on his dashboard, he gets annoyed by its poor syntax and wants Ivy to take it back to her room. Here, Dave misses an opportunity to appreciate his daughter’s growth—while he considers the quote cliché and poorly written, she has used it to overcome her post-election despair. Giving him the sign is a gesture—she wants to help him with his pain, too. This shows how Ivy has gone beyond simply identifying aspects of her worldview and is beginning to share it with others, marking another step forward in her coming-of-age journey.
Dave’s attempts to resolve the mystery of his daughter also illustrate how writing and speaking can often fall short in helping people understand each other. Instead, the story emphasizes the power of nonverbal connection through Ivy’s social media posts and examples of physical communication. Ivy frequently has trouble verbalizing her thoughts and feelings in the story, often sitting in silence or refusing to answer her father’s questions. Instagram gives her an outlet for expressing her feelings, even if Dave can’t figure out what she’s saying. The more her father clumsily tries to engage her in conversations, the more she burrows herself in her phone. This is shown through two juxtaposed vignettes; in one, Dave compliments Ivy for being talkative with her therapist, but she bristles: “You’re making me feel like I talk too much!” (181). The scene ends and is immediately followed by an Instagram post of Ivy’s “splayed” ballet tights in the bathroom. While Ivy is self-conscious about talking, social media provides a way for her to allude to her frustration; she even feels comfortable posting a relatively intimate image of her dirty laundry. These posts allow her to forge connections with others; though neither of her parents can interpret her posts, the 74 likes on her ice cream cone photo is evidence that Ivy is making connections and resonating with other people.
Dave feels that Ivy is quiet, but he too struggles to converse with others and often finds solace in nonverbal communication. He is uncomfortable with Ivy’s physical therapist—he “[doesn’t] always feel comfortable asking her questions” (180)—but they bond on election day over their shared voting stickers. This interaction is silent; Dave points to his sticker, and the therapist responds enthusiastically with a thumbs-up. This is so meaningful to Dave that he feels goodwill not only toward her but humanity in general, and he leaves her office feeling optimistic. Likewise, he and Dorothy often talk past each other, but when Ivy is in a good mood, Dave finds his wife and enthusiastically hugs “her from behind and [makes] her topple over” (190). This gesture, while comic, also conveys their love more clearly than their conversations do in the text. Dave is anxious, but he understands gestures and can communicate through touch. After the car accident, he touches his daughter in a protective gesture: “[H]e felt her chest rising and falling rapidly against his outstretched arm” (199). Notably, the act of him touching her is not described, only the feeling of her breathing—the gesture is instinctual, communication that comes from deep within him. In this instant, nonverbal communication is the most genuine way he can interact with Ivy and ensure she is okay.
The most vivid example of nonverbal communication happens in the final scene when Ivy sees Dave and presses her cheek against the glass, standing on one leg with her body twisted into a strange shape. At first, Dave wonders what she’s doing, but her actions cut to the core of him. He calls it the “magic of dance” and reflects that her contorted posture expresses all of the negative emotions he’s been feeling since the election (201). Through movement, they reach a moment of true camaraderie and understanding, and Dave returns her gesture. Balancing on one foot is difficult for him, yet he does it. In this final moment of nonverbal communication, Ivy laughs, which makes the glass shake, indicating that the distance between them is shrinking.