52 pages • 1 hour read
Jennifer HillierA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Content Warning: This section of the guide discusses child abuse, drug and alcohol abuse, sexual assault, and murder.
At the end of the novel, Paris’s mother attempts to define Paris/Joey: “Get off your moral high horse,” she chides her. “You think we’re so different, you and me? We’re exactly the same. We’re survivors” (338). Given Paris/Joey’s chameleon life—her willingness to create and then destroy identities and to move in and out of relationships—Hillier makes the mystery of the novel revolve not around “whodunit” but around who Paris/Joey really is. That is, is she vulnerable, or a cold-hearted murderer? Hillier constructs Paris’s character by hinting toward secrets kept from the reader until later, making her character elusive to build suspense.
To understand Paris Peralta is to grapple with The Traumatic Impact of Abuse. She experiences sexual abuse with racist undertones as both Charles Baxter and her uncle exoticize her because of her Filipina heritage. That experience reshapes her perception of herself as helpless and alone. Her stint in the strip club in Toronto is an expression of that lack of self-respect and her lack of identity. When she steps out on the stage, she tells herself she is someone else and even adopts a stage name, a persona that she names after her abusive mother. With Jimmy, Paris found the safe, protective, paternal love that she had never had. Drew is key to her character development throughout the novel, since the only challenge to her self-loathing is The Resiliency of Love that Drew shows.
Paris/Joey, however, fights to survive. She is calculating and deliberate. For example, she distrusts Zoe and Elsie. Like the yoga that she masters, she controls her mind and body and seizes opportunities to maintain her distance from people. She kills Charles; she lies in court and allows her mother to spend 20 in prison for that murder; she finds her only friend dead on the floor of their apartment and decides in “three seconds” to switch identities with her and then torches the apartment (236). She coolly outmaneuvers her mother’s blackmail demands. However, in the end, survival alone is not enough. As she sinks into the darkness of the farm pond she feels the strong pull of Drew’s rescue—she is ready now with Drew at her side to play the most difficult role of all: herself.
Ruby Reyes is the novel’s antagonist. Hillier gives her correspondingly typical qualities: She is vicious and calculating. For example, the scene in which Ruby deliberately and coolly extinguishes a cigarette on Joey’s shoulder reveals a woman of extraordinary cruelty. Furthermore, she sexually exploits her daughter as bait to secure wealth, social status, and a grand and spacious home.
Nevertheless, Hillier also highlights a backstory for Ruby that draws attention to abuses and racist injustices that she endures. Joey acknowledges as she sorts through the confusion of her mother’s arrest that she admired what Ruby had made of herself and that her mother had done her best, considering where she started. As a first-generation Filipina immigrant with no education or experience, Ruby lives with the intolerance and racism of her adopted Canada. She scrapes to make a living for her daughter. She uses her sexuality to survive. Her own mother struggled to show her love. She grew up without the love and comfort of a family. She has a string of lovers to provide her with comforts, ending with the two-year affair with Charles Baxter, a white man and respected bank president who holds institutionalized power over Ruby.
As the center of the sensational murder trial of her lover of two years, Ruby Reyes is dubbed the “Ice Queen” She becomes fodder for the tabloid press which uses racist stereotypes about the emotional inscrutability of Asian people and the “seductive” nature of Asian woman to construct her “Ice Queen” persona: “the other woman, the seductress, the home-wrecker who’d lured a happily married man away from his wife and family” (81). Her role as a constructed character in the sensational press speaks to the theme of Violent Crime as Entertainment.
Ruby coaches her daughter against her will to reveal Charles Baxter’s molestation publicly on the stand as a strategy for her own defense, which is that she killed Baxter to protect her daughter. Ruby, as her name suggests, is like a cut gem: from afar she may be stunning, but up close the flaws—her moral imperfections—are glaring. Despite her clear vulnerability to sexism and racism in Canadian society, Hillier makes apparent her predatory paranoia and her willingness to harm others to construct the novel’s antagonistic forces.
In the noir murkiness of the novel in which each character resists easy definition and clings to secrets, Hillier uses Drew Malcolm as a moral compass. In a world of moral relativism, he maintains a code of right and wrong; for example, he agrees to marry a woman he does not love because she is pregnant. He is noble and upright. Hillier never portrays his love for Joey/Paris in physical ways—it is presented as nobler and more transcendent. Ruby cannot fathom Drew’s kind of love, “You knew Joey for, what, a couple of years? And you weren’t even fucking her?” (162). His characterization is juxtaposed with the crudeness and cruelty of other characters.
He is, by training, an investigative journalist. He is restless with mysteries and diligent in efforts to bring the guilty to justice and bring accountability to violent crime. His podcast, Things We Do in the Dark, is dedicated to bringing to light high-profile criminal cases and anatomizing them. Nevertheless, his podcast speaks to the theme of violent crime as entertainment. Although he is the novel’s moral compass, he makes money from turning crime into public media.
He cannot accept that the girl he loved, Joey, died in an accidental house fire. He blames himself. He is haunted for nearly 20 years after by his belief that he had not done enough to protect Joey. His view of her as a delicate beauty with vulnerable sensitivity and a fragile sense of self-worth presents a heteropatriarchal view of romantic relationships. Furthermore, Drew’s moral sensibility is challenged when he sees Joey in the strip club: “He understood what was happening. He just didn’t want to see” (212). He chastises her for cheapening herself. Hillier subtly draws attention to gendered power dynamics that obscure the fact that Drew was himself a patron generating demand at the strip club.
The fight in the car on New Year’s Eve haunts him. However, Drew is given a second chance. In reuniting with Joey, helping her to thwart her mother’s blackmail plot, and rescuing her from drowning, Drew emerges as the novel’s romantic hero, epitomizing the theme of the resiliency of love.
Elsie is Jimmy’s friend of more than 50 years, his trusted attorney, and his tireless defender through multiple marriages, a cocaine addiction, and the ups and downs of a career that was just beginning to take off again. Within the genre of a murder mystery thriller, Elsie Dixon is the culprit whom the author obscures with red herrings and reveals in a denouement. Within the twists of revelations and secrets, Elsie emerges in the last few pages as the one who killed Jimmy Peralta. She took the straight razor out of Jimmy’s collection of handsome razors and plunged it into his femoral artery.
Elsie Dixon is a complex character. While she is the killer who in turn tried to make it look like death by suicide and then allowed Paris to be charged with murder, Hillier also makes her partly a sympathetic figure, because what defines Elsie’s character is her motivation—the resiliency of love. For more than 50 years, Elsie loved Jimmy Peralta: “I didn’t want his money. I wanted him. Don’t you get that? For fifty goddamn years, I loved that broken, selfish, arrogant man, and half the time he couldn’t even remember when we had plans” (319). Her words in the denouement speech highlight the fact that she felt jilted. The marriage to Paris, half Jimmy’s age, had been for Elsie the last straw. “What was I supposed to do? Watch him be happy with you?” (320). When Paris confronts Elsie with her suspicion that she might be the killer, Paris is listening to Jimmy’s vintage cassette player to the Fleetwood Mac classic “Dreams,” which contains the lyrics “listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness/Like a heartbeat, drives you mad.” With this allusion, Hillier suggests to the reader that “loneliness” drives Elsie’s murder motive.
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