The Lighthouse: A Novel by Michael D. O’Brien, Post #3

This is the third post on Michael D. O’Brien’s novel, The Lighthouse: A Novel.

You can find Post #1 here.  

Post #2 here.  

 

 

Summary

Chapters 5 & 6

Chapter 5: Save Us from Peril

A week or two after those four intruders showed up to Ethan’s island, Ethan noticed a fifth, a boat about a quarter mile south, and when Ethan espied it through his telescope he could see a man on board wrapping metal chains around himself and uncoupling the boat’s motor.  Ethan realized the man was about to drown himself with the weight of the motor.  He stripped himself down, heroically swam to the boat, pulled himself up, and physically stopped the man from continuing.  In the struggle, the man hit his head, became unconscious, and was profusely bleeding.  Ethan slowed the bleeding down, drove the boat to town, and was then able to get the man to a hospital emergency room.  Later when the man, whose name was Esau “Skillsaw” Hurly, awoke at the hospital, he and Ethan got into a confrontation on why Esau tried to kill himself.  In the dialogue we learn that Esau was the man who had burned the church down and we also learned he had been abused as a child.  Ethan developed bronchitis from having been in the cold water and could not visit Esau again for three weeks.  In the interim, Esau died. Ethan heard Hurly’s life story from Elsie who had known Hurly as a young man.

Chapter 6: The Visitor

In July, a sixth intruder came to the lighthouse, a young marine biologist who was boating along the shore and stopped at the island to talk to Ethan.  The young man was Ross Campbell, and he was a talker.  Ross was particularly interested in puffin birds.  Ethan took him to their nests, and when the talk shifted to boats Ethan showed him the boat he had refurbished but had not yet launched.  After some resistance, Ethan agreed to let Ross help him launch it.  It would be a project of several days.  Before the final moment of dropping her into the water, Ross realized that Ethan had forgotten to rig the boat with items to dock her.  Ross volunteered to take his boat into town and buy the necessary hardware.  When he came back, they installed the equipment and dropped the boat into the water and docked her.  Still there was no motor to take the boat out.  Although Ethan was paying for one, the two decided to go into town to get an inexpensive one.  After haggling with the boat equipment supplier, Ethan and Ross took back a motor and other accessories and by that afternoon had the Puffin out on the ocean.  With a boat now, Ethan was able to get back and forth to town more easily.  He brought Elsie a gift, a small model boat Ethan sculpted that matched the Elsie’s husband’s boat.  During the autumn he made a four foot replica of an eighteenth century ship and left it anonymously at the doorstep of the newly rebuilt church.

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Thoughts and observations on Chapter 5, “Save Us from Peril”

I thought the chapter with Skillsaw Hurly the best written in the book so far.  Skillsaw Hurly turns out to be the most three dimensional character in the book.  He is bitter and cynical, and has done a very evil act (setting fire to the church) but we get to learn of his hurt, or at least intuit it.  We suspect he’s been abused as a child, possibly by a priest, and so his core being is not simply evil.  There are causes to his persona, reasons for his alcohol addiction, and justifications for his bitterness and cynicism toward the Catholic Church.  In his bitterness and perhaps repulsion of his act, he has reached a level of despair, and so wants to commit suicide.  Wrapping the chains across his body to allow him to drown is almost a visual of a crucifixion.  His life has been a scourging at the pillar, and his recurring drinking bouts is an effort to find peace.  And finding peace is trying to find Christ.

I also thought the writing and especially the dialogue in this chapter was superior to anything we have read so far.  O’Brien created realism in this chapter, not clichéd characters and stock situations.  I’m going to give an extended quote here because I thought this was outstanding.  Ethan is visiting Skillsaw in the hospital trying to get him to reveal why he tried to kill himself.

They stared at each other until Ethan grew tired of it and said:

 

   “Why would you want to kill yourself?”

 

   “It was an accident,” the old man growled.

 

   “That was no accident.”

 

   “Who are you anyway? Police?”

 

   “I’m the lighthouse keeper. I found you and brought you in.”

 

   “Well, good for you. You’re a hero. Don’t you call the cops on me, ‘cause I ain’t gonna let nobody send me to the loony bin. And I need a drink.”

 

   There was nothing to say to that, so Ethan asked again:

 

   “Why did you do it?”

 

   “Ah, no reason. It was just time to check out.”

 

   Ethan continued to sit, staring at the man, wanting to go, though he couldn’t. And couldn’t say why he couldn’t.

Ethan looking at Hurley is suggestive of looking into a mirror.  Both men have had childhood trauma.  Ethan’s trauma could have manifested into alcoholism as well, but perhaps by the grace of God didn’t.  Technically Hurley is Ethan’s doppelganger, his literary double.  The dialogue continues.

 

   “You can leave now,” said Hurley. “Have a nice day.”

 

   “I’m not leaving.”

 

   “Tough guy, eh?”

 

   “I’m not leaving. And you’re going to tell me why you tried to kill yourself.”

 

   “Lots of good reasons.”

 

   “Give me one.”

 

   “None o’ your business.”

 

   “You made it my business. I had to swim out to your boat. It was a long way, and the water was cold. I untied you and stopped your bleeding. I got your motor hooked up again, and then I brought you here. That’s about half a day of my life. Probably a case of bronchitis too.”

 

   “Don’t try t’ guilt me out. It won’t work.”

 

   Ethan coughed. “Maybe pneumonia, if it takes hold. A little explanation would be appropriate.”

 

   There’s a five-dollar word. You’re a smart fellow, aren’t you?”

 

   “Not so smart. But I’m wondering why.”

 

   “Nice guy saves town drunk. Hero goes home to his happy life. Bad Boy Skillsaw goes back to the bar.”

 

   But even as he said it, Hurley averted his eyes and kept them averted. Beneath the bitterness, the mask of cynicism, there was a measureless grief.

“A measureless grief.”  Hurley is hurt, hurt inside, and can’t overcome it.  “Measureless” is like at the bottom of an ocean, the bottom of which he was going to drown himself.

 

   Ethan was not a demonstrative person, neither a toucher nor a hugger, mainly because there had never been anyone who had stayed around long enough to show him how it was done—or how to receive it. Now, tentatively, he reached out and patted Hurley on the shoulder.

 

   “Get yer hands off me!” the old man snarled.

 

   “I’m sorry.”

 

   “Nobody touches me. I been touched before. I know what it’s all about.”

 

   Tears began leaking out of one eye, then the other.

 

   Ethan had no idea what this might mean, so he waited. Time stretched painfully long, then it slowed, and Ethan felt the eternalness he sometimes experienced while gazing at the sea. A sort of peace, an inner stilling.

I found this interesting and yet puzzling.  Why would Skillsaw’s tears given Ethan the impression of eternity?  And why would it suggest “a sort of peace, an inner stilling”?  Perhaps there is something cathartic to Ethan to come across another person’s inner trauma.

 

   Hurley turned his head and met Ethan’s eyes.

 

   “Back then, I told myself I’m not a bad person,” he said.

 

   “I don’t think you’re a bad person,” mumbled Ethan.

 

   “You understand nothing. Let me finish my story.”

 

   Ethan nodded. “Please, go ahead.”

 

   “Gimme ten dollars, and I’ll tell you an appropriate story.”

 

   “I don’t have ten dollars with me.”

 

   “Ten dollars buys a good bottle o’ wine or a jug of bad rum, like home-still Newfy Screech. Ever drink screech?”

 

   Ethan shook his head.

 

   “Interesting. So now you know.”

 

   “Now I know what?”

 

   “My life ain’t worth ten dollars. Or maybe I’m saying it’s worth only ten dollars, but nobody’s got the cash to spare.”

 

   “I don’t understand, Mr. Hurley.”

 

   Hurley snorted. Hurley, is it? My, you’re respectful. Polite. A nice man you are, sure enough. You’re one o’ the good guys, not one o’ the bad guys, like me.”

 

   “Are you a bad guy? I don’t think so.”

 

   “Well, not in the beginning, maybe. It starts when you think you’re not the kind who does bad things. Then, little by little, so quiet, so slow you hardly notice it, like a lamprey hooking onto a salmon, sucking out its life without being noticed, you do small wrongs that get bigger and bigger, and more of them. First you’re standing on dry land watching the tide come in. You can hardly see it change. It looks harmless. Then before you know it your feet are wet, and soon your legs. And then you’re swimming for your life, because you told yourself that you couldn’t drown—not you—‘cause you’re the good guy.”

 

   “Mr. Hurley,” said Ethan, his voice soothing, trying to calm him, reaching out to pull the blanket up around the trembling unshaven neck. With his free hand the old man batted Ethan away.

 

   “Evil,” he croaked.

 

   “What evil?” Ethan asked.

 

   “You’re sinking and your head is full o’ darkness, but you keep saying to yourself, ‘This is right; this is good.’ But you know deep inside yourself that wrong isn’t right and right isn’t wrong, so you make yourself blinder, do more evil because evil was done to you and life owes you.”

The dialogue continues to where Hurley confesses to the arson and justifies it on the hypocrisy of the Church.  Hurley defines himself by his hurt, a rightful hurt, but when you define yourself by the hurt it is impossible to overcome it.  Does Ethan define himself by his hurt?  Has he overcome it?  We’ll have to see.

###

Thoughts and observations on Chapter 6, “The Visitor" 

I don’t really have a lot to say about this chapter.  Ross Campbell is a nice young man who bonds with Ethan, and though reluctant Ethan bonds with him.  In a way, Ross is Ethan without the childhood trauma.  Their relationship demonstrates Ethan’s lack of worldly experience given that a young man half of Ethan’s age seems to know the ways of the world better.  On the other hand, Ross could be Ethan’s son, and there is a sort of fatherly relationship Ethan projects.  [Edit: I did not know at the time Ross would turn out to be Ethan’s biological son.] Ross will come back in subsequent chapters, so unlike a lot of the other characters that cross Ethan’s life, Ross is structurally part of the story. 

I will say this, I don’t find Ross that interesting a character, but we don’t know much about him yet.  Perhaps O’Brien will give us more of his backstory. 

Other than Skillsaw Hurley, the novel really lacks interesting characters to hold interest.  And I’m afraid to say that goes for Ethan as a character.  We are at the 60% mark in the novel and I cannot say I am engaged with any of the characters.  The only character that was interesting was killed off in one chapter.

Let me speculate on what a different novel might have looked like.  What if O’Brien had run the narratives of Skillsaw and Ethan in parallel with intertwining connections with some climax toward the end of a major conflict between the two.  The Skillsaw part of the narrative could have started early and we could have seen the dramatization of burning the church and Ethan trying to figure out what happened and who did it.  Call me crazy, but I think that’s a more engaging story than this.

###

Ellie’s Comment:

I think the premise of this book is very good, it's just that for me, the execution lacked in many places. Like you said, Manny, there was a lack of characters that I cared for, frankly. It was a good book, just not a great one.

 

And honestly, this book was pretty predictable and full of schematic and kind of shallow characters that just did not do it. I wish some of the passages about building the boat would be replaced with getting deeper into Ethan's mind, because it feels like, even after finishing the book, that I don't know him at all.

 

I will say that I think the building and repairing of the boat stands for a sort of universal call to creating (or sub-creating, as Tolkien would say), being engaged in any creative process, trying to utilize the materials and the skills that the one Creator gave us. I found the passages about the building and repairing of the boat quite engaging, actually, but... it just lacked some spark?

 

I think Ross was meant to be... a vision of Ethan, like you said Manny. A vision of something he never was and could now never be, but something/somebody he could now appreciate.

Kerstin’s Comment:

The boat launching is rather tedious. I found myself skimming through the paragraphs. Do I really need to know every little step in the process? In second-rate novels minutia is often piled on as filler that adds nothing to the furthering of the plot. This is where the wheat and the chaff are separated, the good authors from the mediocre.

Am I going too far?

My Reply to Both:

I agree with both of you Ellie and Kerstin. Yes there is symbolism but symbolism in the absence of interesting characters or interesting drama doesn’t create reader engagement. No, you are not going too far. I felt the same.

 

I’ve read the next two chapters and will put up a summary soon, but the minutia of their work will be even more excruciating in those chapters.

My Comment:

It occurred to me after thinking about our comments on the two dimensionality of O’Brien’s characters whether it was intentional.  Before Michael O’Brien was a writer of fiction he was an artist who specialized in Byzantine icon type imagery.  Eastern Orthodox icons mandate that artistic representation be only in two dimensions.  Limiting to two dimensions, I believe, eliminates the incarnate implications and implies transcendence.  I may not understand the theology fully.  Someone help me out here if you understand the theology better than I stated.

 

Nonetheless, if Obrien is trying to capture an iconic effect in realistic fiction, he is writing in the wrong medium.  A novel in realism requires verisimilitude, that is the semblance of reality.  Once he established the ground rules of a “real” person in a “real” situation, then the character has to seem real, and yes one of the criteria of seeming real is three dimensional personality.  If he were writing of an elf in a fantasy world, then the ground rules might be different.  But Ethan is intended to be a real person in a fixed time and place with the ground rules of what the reader experiences of reality. 

 

Could O’Brien have intended Ethan and all the characters to be two dimensional?  I don’t know, but probably not.  It is a thought given O’Brien’s other artistic interests.  Since the novel does work in the medium of realism, I would assume O’Brien intended the characters to feel real. 

 

By the way, working in realism does not imply that O’Brien could not have incorporated metaphysical elements such as talking to his sculptures.  It comes across as creepy because of the execution not because it violated some aspect of fiction.

###

Retrospective Thoughts Post Reading of the Novel

Skillsaw remains the most interesting character in the novel, one that O’Brien should have weaved deeper into the plot.  He is Ethan’s doppelganger and we will see that Ross too becomes Ethan’s doppelganger.  In a comment later in the novel, I will surmise that the most interesting novel out of these three characters would have been the lines of the lives of Ethan, Skillsaw, and Ross in parallel and then interweaved together.  The “Save Us From Peril” chapter was the best written, the freshest dialogue, the most interesting of all the chapters in the book. 

Sunday Meditation: When the Temple Will Topple Down

After two weeks of deviations from Ordinary time, this Sunday we return to the Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C.  We are one week from the end of the liturgical year.  Next week we end with the feast of Christ the King. 

The readings toward the end reflect the end of time, and so we get apocalyptic readings, and the fire-and-brimstone reminder of what avails us at our end of life.  Today Jesus predicts the end of the Temple, which He associates with end of times.

 

Here is the Gospel passage.

 

While some people were speaking about how the temple was adorned with costly stones and votive offerings,

Jesus said, "All that you see here-- the days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down."

 

Then they asked him,

"Teacher, when will this happen?

And what sign will there be when all these things are about to happen?"

He answered,

"See that you not be deceived, for many will come in my name, saying, 'I am he,' and 'The time has come.'

Do not follow them!

When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for such things must happen first, but it will not immediately be the end."

Then he said to them,

"Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom.

There will be powerful earthquakes, famines, and plagues from place to place; and awesome sights and mighty signs will come from the sky.

 

"Before all this happens, however, they will seize and persecute you, they will hand you over to the synagogues and to prisons, and they will have you led before kings and governors because of my name.

It will lead to your giving testimony.

Remember, you are not to prepare your defense beforehand, for I myself shall give you a wisdom in speaking that all your adversaries will be powerless to resist or refute.

You will even be handed over by parents, brothers, relatives, and friends, and they will put some of you to death.

You will be hated by all because of my name, but not a hair on your head will be destroyed. By your perseverance you will secure your lives."

~Lk 21:5-19

Bishop Barron gives an incredibly insightful homily explaining it so well.  The end of times means a shaking up of the old order in all its facets.  Watch this, it’s super.

 

“Nature itself is giving way to something new.  Something has been shaken and now unveiled to us.”  I found that so profound.

For the pastoral homily, I turn to someone I have never heard before, Fr. Michael Adebote from the Parish of the Resurrection of the Lord in Maine.  Clearly he is an African priest who has come to the United States to serve.  He draws the spiritual fruit right out of this passage.

 

“We are more aware now, brothers and sisters, that the true sacred temple was not just the physical building anywhere but Jesus Himself!”  This is that the pastoral take away from today’s Gospel.

That says it all!

 

Sunday Meditation: "By your perseverance you will secure your lives."

 

Let’s return to a John Michael Talbot hymn.  Enjoy “Behold Now the Kingdom.”

 

“For you shall see with new eyes!”

Faith Filled Friday: The Nature of Christ’s Peace

I came across this striking quote in the October 2025 issue of Magnificat (Vol. 27, No.8) in one of the meditations (p. 280-1) by the Mexican mystic and spiritual writer Blessed Concepción Cabrera de Armida who is sometimes referred to as Blessed Conchita.  According to her Wikipedia entry, she was a prolific writer.  This quote comes from a book she wrote on meditating on the nature of Jesus, both on His human and divine natures, What Jesus is Like.  I’ve put that book in my cart for a future purchase.  Looks like a great advent read.

 

Fr. Mark Goring tells us a little about Blessed Conchita as he describes another of her books.

 

Here is this most notable quote.

 

Peace is not something negative: a lack of conflict.  It is rather something positive: a glimpse of heaven, a beam of tranquility, a ray of God’s own happiness.  The calm that comes from peace is not transitory, but something that is permanent and immortal, like a day when the sun does not set…. The person who is at peace is like a lake that is perfectly serene.  A lake in which God is reflected, in which Jesus the God-Man is imaged.  To achieve that peace, that serenity, one needs a profound humility, a great purity of heart, a tranquil conscience, and a trusting love…. Suffering which we willingly accept brings us peace.  It makes us like him.

            -Blessed Concepción Cabrera de Armida 

First, the notion that peace is a positive value rather than a negative runs counter to our temporal minds.  We envision peace coming after conflict and turmoil, such as after war or some great disturbance.  But I think she’s got that right.  War and turmoil take peace away.

Second, she tries to describe what that peace is: “a glimpse of heaven, a beam of tranquility, a ray of God’s own happiness.”.  It is not transitory but everlasting, “like a day when the sun does not set.”  It comes from God and is God. 

Third, she describes attributes of a person who has this peace: a perfectly serene lake which reflects Jesus.  Jesus is peace and we achieve peace by becoming Him.  One needs humility, purity, conscience (which can be seen as righteousness), and love.  This comes right out of the Beatitudes (Mt 5:3-12).  To be blessed is to achieve the beatitudes and perhaps make them manifest in the world.  “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the children of God.”  When I read that verse, I imagine “peacemakers” as those who resolve conflicts and wars.  But that might be too narrow a definition.  Peacemakers are those bring tranquility to a moment.  “Lord make me an instrument of your peace” St. Francis of Assisi is said to have prayed.  Bringing such peace is bringing Christ to the moment.

Fourth, to arrive at those attributes, we have to become Christ, especially through the willing acceptance of suffering.  Jesus gives this advice to Martha in Luke 10:41-42 when Jesus says to the hyperactive Martha in response to Martha’s sister Mary: “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things.  There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part and it will not be taken from her.”  Mary has achieved peace in Christ.

I must say that arriving at such peace is very hard to do.  To willingly go through Christ’s passion and crucifixion is not easy in this temporal world.  After all, on this side of heaven, the sunset does give way to nightfall.

Conchita’s passage is so wonderful, I consider it Found Poetry.  Found poetry are passages that were not meant as a poem but a reader sees poetry in it.  With all due respect to Conchita, let me take the parts of her passage and arrange it as a poem.  Remember, this is Conchita’s work, not mine.

 

Peace

 

A sudden glimpse, a beam of tranquility,

The ray of God’s own blessedness from His eternal face,

We sit below a sunset that never ends,

Nightfall is extinguished, and with that

The anxiety that is not of the better part.

 

Peace came dropping slow.

The drops now pooled into a smooth lake.

What is that reflection staring back?  God’s face!

We see Jesus in the circles of a tarn.

We sit at His feet reflecting light.

 

The kingdom is for the meek and merciful,

The purity of one’s heart shows us God.

We remember the trials of persecution and of turmoil;

We now have comfort and are satisfied.

We are planted at our seats as the children of God.

 

Haha, that was fun composing it.  Let me know if my poem is any good.

The Lighthouse: A Novel by Michael D. O’Brien, Post #2

This is the second post on Michael D. O’Brien’s novel, The Lighthouse: A Novel.

You can find Post #1 here.  

 

Summary

Chapters 3 & 4

Chapter 3: The Family

After finishing the Puffin wooden headpiece for the boat, Ethan still had half a log from which he could carve something else.  The sense of loneliness in his life led him to the idea of carving a woman from the log.  He carved a modestly dressed woman and when complete he called her his ”wife.”  He was so happy with carving the wife that he then decided to carve a “baby” to go with the mother.  And then that led to a “big brother” and a “big sister” for the baby.  He had created a family.  That spring, Ethan took his annual walking tour vacation, this year walking around Cape Breton Highlands National Park.  On his journey he met a farmer, Roger, and was invited to lunch with Roger’s family, Clare, Roger’s wife and their five children.  When he departed, he broke down into tears.  When he returned he learned that while he was away the Catholic Church in town had been burned down deliberately.  Ethan then carved a father for wooden family.  Then he carved another father, with a boy on the father’s shoulders.

 

Chapter 4: Tidal Wash

One summer, the year after the church had been rebuilt, a number of intrusions in a span of six weeks came to Ethan’s island.  The first intrusion was a local boat who was hired to show an elderly married couple from Japan, and their somewhat radical granddaughter who served as an interpreter.  The second intrusion was a dozen visitors from a luxury yacht who decided to conduct a hedonistic picnic on Ethan’s island.  Ethan asked them to leave and a conflict ensued, and Ethan’s threat to call the Mounties was enough to chase them off.  The third intrusion was of two boys who moored their boat on Ethan’s island and couldn’t get their boat back into the water.  Ethan helped them push the boat out and suggested they go to a small island where there was an old sailing ship that had fallen apart but made for an adventurous pilgrimage.  The fourth and final intrusion came while he was bathing in the sea.  A young woman, Catherine MacInnis, came by while hiking the coastal road.  She wanted to see the lighthouse, and Ethan accommodated her.  He felt love for her, served her tea, and spent an afternoon with her, but their encounter was not fruitful, and she moved on.

###

My Comment:

We're at about 40% of the book here. I'll put together some general thoughts, but I can't say I'm overwhelmed. It's not bad but nowhere am I seeing greatness here. I'm wondering what other people think.

Kerstin Reply:

Some of it falls flat for me too. It is an easy read, but I can’t say I’m captivated, especially after the odd carving of the family.

Ellie Reply:

I am glad I am not the only one. The book is not bad, but I found Ethan's actions a bit strange, like Kerstin said. I understand the longing, but then why did Ethan willingly separate himself from the rest of the world?

 

But I am curious to see where the book is going to lead, especially with the carving.

My Reply to Ellie:

Yeah, I think we are experiencing the novel's contradictions and flaws. See my thoughts on Chapter 3. 

###

Thoughts and observations on Chapter 3, “The Family:”

This was the weird chapter.  There are three parts to this chapter: the carving of the wooden family, the dinner with the real family while hiking, and the story about the burning of the Catholic church in town, but the carving of the wooden family was so salient that I had to remind myself what else was contained in the chapter.  Ethan had a wooden log and something compelled him to sculpt a woman out of it.

 

  The forlorn atmosphere in the room pressed upon him, a feeling that something, or someone, was missing. Gazing at his carving tools, folded neatly in their pouch on the countertop, he reminded himself to put them away in the workbench drawer in the other room. As he rose to do just that, his eye was caught by the pine log that tilted against a corner wall. After he had cut off a portion for the puffin carving, he had not taken the unused section out to the shed for storage but had kept it here in the kitchen for the aroma it gave.

So the inspiration comes from a feeling, and my first thought was that it came from a remnant of the psychological trauma of being abandoned as a child.  Perhaps it’s from the “mother wound” he had as a child.  Some psychologists might call his dysfunction as having received a mother wound.  It’s probable that this is what O’Brien is suggesting.  However, the “forlorn atmosphere” that presses upon him could suggest a spiritual communication.  And I think we will learn he has such locutions.  Perhaps it’s both.  However Ethan goes beyond just carving statues.

 

And so he made the woman. Months of labor she demanded of him. Love she asked of him, though gently, without pressure, and like all men he was certain that he was courting beguiling though sometimes he would ruefully smile as he realized it was the other way around. He kept her clothed, though her body was womanly beneath the folds of her dress. He made mistakes with the chisel. Learned from them. Corrected them. How to cooperate with the grain to make a flow of line simulating cloth, implying fertile shapes. How to carve the small feet pressed together. Then the finer details of toes, collarbones, ears, the threads of hair, the definition of human eyelids, more complex than a puffin’s. Splinters festered, were expelled or extracted with a pin. Blood was spilled and soaked into the wood.

 

   Abiding love. It always costs, if it would endure.

 

   And finally, when she was completed, or nearly so:

 

   My wife.

If I’m not mistaken, that’s the second time he bleeds on wood.  Blood while working wood would suggest the crucifixion.  Ethan has certainly suffered from his childhood trauma, so I think that is adequately earned.  It does again put the carving of the sculptures into a religious context.  But talking to the sculpture, calling her his wife, compelled to sculpt a baby, who calls him “papa,” sculpting siblings, and a father to make this a family is just downright creepy.  What I’m not sure is whether O’Brien wants us to think this is just psychological depth of the character or he wants the reader to think creepy.  Is it just poor execution from O’Brien or does he intend this strangeness?  I would like to know other’s thoughts on this. 

If he is just trying to show psychological depth that is very poor characterization.  If he intends, on the other hand, for us to take it as creepy, then how does that fit into the rest of the novel?  Ethan is supposed to be a balanced person in a crazy world, and yet Ethan is crazier than the world?  The story seems to be working against itself.  Second, whether it’s supposed to be psychological depth or a result of severe trauma, the novel could be fatally flawed, and I won’t know for sure that until I get a little further.  Such a trauma in a character has to be narrated.  All O’Brien does is tell us in the most cursory way that his mother abandoned him.  Such an event in the central character’s life that causes him to be abnormal requires dramatic narration. Take for example William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury.  There are three characters with their own section in that novel, all with childhood traumatic wounds.  Each character parallels Ethan in dysfunctionality.  Faulkner has flashbacks to the trauma so that the reader experiences it, knows it, and feels it.  I am halfway through the novel and where is this flashback to Ethan’s childhood?  It’s absent.  We are left with no tangible pity for Ethan, and so we start losing interest in him.

Following this creepy section is a section where Ethan meets up with an ideal family of a mother, father, and five children.  Ethan admires them, and when he leaves he cries, supposedly because he longs for the same.  What am I supposed to think about Ethan’s mental state?  We can tell he’s wounded but he seems normal here.  But just a few pages back he sculpted a family where the wooden child called him papa.  The ideal family wish coming after the creepy family section just falls flat.  Is he normal or isn’t he?  To me this is just confusion.

Finally the burning of the church will have implications later in the story. 

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Ellie’s Reply to My Thoughts on Chapter 3:

I agree with you on all points Manny and I love what you said, especially the lack of flashbacks to Ethan's childhood and with having no real pity to hold onto, because we don't know about his hardships. To me, his character seems so incredibly underdeveloped and to me he felt a bit... stereotypical: the lighthouse keeper, the loner, the seemingly aloof, the traumatized (but by what exactly?)... I admit the novel is not as long as, let's say, War and Peace, but I've read shorter books where the characters seemed more tangible.

 

I think the scene with the family was just poor execution of a real longing that was in Ethan's heart. I understood the longing as something that came from beyond, I would even go so far as to say it came from God, but then again, there is no notion that Ethan was ever religious or believes in God except for one conversation, maybe. It all felt a bit strange to me, to say the least. 

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Thoughts and observations on Chapter 4, “Tidal Wash:”

In the fourth chapter, O’Brien gives us four vignettes, none of which still establish a story line except possibly for the fourth one which could potentially develop into a story.  O’Brien, though, does situate the time—“the year after the church was rebuilt.”  When exactly is that?  I think it would have to be the furthest in time that we have reached.  The boat has been refurbished when Ethan is around forty years old.  He had the leftover log, so he sculpted the wooden family.  He went on the hiking trip where he met the ideal family, and then spent the night at Elsie’s house where he learned about the church being burnt down.  So if the church has been rebuilt it must be roughly a couple of years later.  Ethan is now in his early to mid-forties.

Why have these vignettes?  For one thing it allows O’Brien to show life at the lighthouse.  It also allows us to see Ethan interact with the world at large.  More importantly I think is that it allows O’Brien to develop several themes.  The vignettes are little cadenzas, to use a musical term, where O’Brien can highlight themes in parallel variations.

The first vignette highlights what I think is one of O’Brien’s themes of generational decay.  The Japanese tourist are an elderly married couple and their freakish granddaughter, with the blue spiked hair, nose ring, and startling clothes is a forward generation.  After trying to explain why her grandmother got cancer—apparently from the Fukushima nuclear power plant disaster which would situate the time after March of 2011—Ethan reacts to the granddaughter’s rude explanation.

 

“Oh,” said Ethan, still not understanding, and rattled by the girl’s apparent hostility. He had a vague sense that Japanese culture was based on respect and reverence for family ties. He was confused by how starkly her manner seemed at odds with this. Then he recalled a few young people he had seen in Halifax, dressed like her, behaving like her, so perhaps it was some kind of universal break with the past. But why so much anger? So much disdain?

That universal break from the past is a theme in the novel.

The second vignette is of a group of wealthy people off a yacht that stop at his island to picnic but without permission and with boorish manners.  The women casually remove their tops to sunbathe.  This again suggests the generational decay of modern morals, but frankly there have been boorish, wealthy people in all generations.

The third vignette is a couple of boys, brothers, the oldest thirteen, the other around three years younger, moor a boat on Ethan’s island.  Ethan helps them push their boat out and directs them on a safer adventure.  Are the boys projections of Ethan and his brother if he had lived a normal childhood?  Could be.

The fourth vignette is of a young lady who while hiking stops by the island to look over the lighthouse.  Ethan is infatuated with her, and even sees her as a soul mate. 

 

They stopped and faced each other. They shook hands. She looked him in the eyes. His habit of dropping his eyes was discarded. He tried to say something but did not. He could not. He had no pattern in his mind for this kind of thing, no memory or model or language.

 

 She seemed to understand.

 

She smiled at him and then turned and walked away. He stood on the road looking after her until she was no more than a brushstroke on the horizon. She went over a hillock between grassy dunes and was gone.

 

He nearly ran after her. Instead, looking back at the causeway, he saw it rapidly disappearing, and decided to run to the island. He made it home, wet to his knees.

“He had no pattern in his mind for this kind of thing, no memory or model or language.”  I think that is the takeaway of this vignette.  His childhood experienced lacked a good relationship with his mother, which I think O’Brien wants to suggest has formed his adulthood.  I think this scene could be part of a larger story if she returns and the relationship develops.  I have not gone far enough to see whether that is so. 

The first two scenes highlighting the generational decay strike me as coming close to today’s polemics of the antimodernist reaction in conservative Catholic circles.  I don’t care for polemics in novels, even if I agree with them.  The problem with polemics is that the ideas can be superficial because they are stock political discourse.  If an author wanted to use the polemics of his day in his work, he really has to derive something deeper from them than the common discourse and present them richly.  I’m afraid O’Brien doesn’t even come close here.  Both scenes are flat, two dimensional, and of stock quality. 

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Celia’s Thoughts on Chapter 3, The Family:

In “The Family,” Ethan carves a set of figures: a wife, a baby, two older children, himself, and finally another Ethan carrying a boy on his shoulders. This striking act of creativity reveals his longing for family and perhaps a form of healing through imagination. The presence of “two Ethans” suggests the man he is now contrasted with the man he wishes to be — one surrounded by joy, relationship, and legacy.

Ethan later steps away from the island and meets Elsie, a widow whose husband Norbert was lost in a storm. Her grief embodies the cost of the sea — the very danger Ethan’s light is meant to guard against. She also mourns the destruction of St. Brendan’s Catholic Church by arson, underscoring themes of faith, community, and loss. Through Elsie, Ethan encounters real human sorrow, reminding him that his hidden service connects directly to lives like hers.

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Symbolism in Chapter 3

• Symbolic Creativity: The carved family reflects Ethan’s inner ache for connection — something he can only create in art, not in life.

• Foreshadowing through Elsie: Her story of loss ties Ethan’s vocation to real human need, showing that his quiet light is part of the struggle against the sea’s dangers.

• Faith Thread: The burning of St. Brendan’s church functions like a parable — even institutions of faith can be destroyed, yet individuals like Ethan, faithful in hidden service, keep the flame alive.

Celia’s Thoughts on Chapter 4, Tidal Wash:

“Tidal Wash” is a jarring chapter — an invasion after the quiet, reflective mood of earlier sections. Ethan first encounters a group of uninvited Japanese visitors who arrive to view the lighthouse as if it were a tourist attraction. Their presence is intrusive — not hostile exactly, but disruptive. The granddaughter, acting as translator, comes across as a parody of the sullen teenager, casting a pall over the scene. This intrusion is followed by a group of wealthy yacht owners who spread out arrogantly across the island, treating it as a backdrop for their pleasure. Their loud, careless behavior stands in stark contrast to Ethan’s reverent relationship with the place. Where Ethan’s lighthouse and island have functioned like a monastery, these intrusions feel like sacrilege — like tourists wandering into a sanctuary mid-Mass with beer coolers.

 

This clash highlights a contrast of values: Ethan stands for simplicity, humility, and service, while the visitors embody consumerism, arrogance, and thoughtlessness. O’Brien uses these episodes to show that even remote sanctuaries are not immune from disturbance. The outside world will intrude — and Ethan must decide how to respond. At first, the Japanese group and the yacht party seem like villains, but more deeply they serve as symbols of intrusion. The discomfort we feel as readers mirrors Ethan’s sense of desecration, reminding us of a Christian paradox: the light shines for all — even those who mock, misuse, or ignore it.

 

The second half of the chapter shifts tone dramatically, almost like a cleansing after the ugliness of intrusion. Two young brothers, vacationing with their family, run aground on a sandbar. Ethan quietly helps them to safety, performing an unheralded act of service. This reversal underscores his vocation: to help, to rescue, quietly and without recognition. Later, Ethan meets Catherine MacInnes, whose presence is calm, respectful, and resonant. Unlike the others, she does not trample on his solitude. Catherine’s encounter feels like the first glimmer of a meaningful relationship — a bridge between his isolation and the community beyond the island.

 

By the chapter’s end, serenity is restored. O’Brien shows that not all intrusions are desecrations; some bring grace, humility, or friendship. The sea keeps sending people: some exploit, some need saving, and some offer connection. Ethan’s task is to discern which is which. The artistry of “Tidal Wash” lies in its structure: chaos → rescue → encounter. It reminds us that Ethan’s life is not static — people will continue to arrive, each revealing something about his vocation and his capacity for grace.

My Reply to Celia:

Good summaries Celia. My impression was that Elsie was a friend before chapter 3. One thing that I haven't mentioned in my comments is that in germ in these early chapters we see Catholicism. Ethan is completely ignorant of Catholicism, and every so often he comes across it and learns something. Elsie is that Catholic connection for Ethan.

 

I do like how you see the structure of "Tidal Wash." Chaos → rescue → encounter

Frances’s Reply to Celia:

Very nice, Celia. ‘’The sea keeps sending people. . . ‘’ Beautiful insight." 

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Retrospective Thoughts Post Reading of the Novel

Two major criticisms of the novel came to the fore here.  First, Ethan’s character is severely underdeveloped.  Here we are nearly halfway through and it seems he’s just a stick figure of a character.  O’Brien has told us in the most cursory of exposition of Ethan’s childhood trauma.  There needed to be more than exposition for such a critical element to the novel.  There needed to be more character development than just he wishes to seek seclusion.  This isn’t a parable.  A novel requires verisimilitude.  There was still time at this point to back fill such narrative but O’Brien doesn’t ever get to it.  In the end, Ethan is just an idea and not a real person. 

Second, the conversations with his carving figures come across as just creepy.  Is Ethan supposed to be creepy?  No, I don’t think so.  This was just poor execution.  There is a disconnect between this attempt at psychological depth and Ethan functioning in the real world.  Yes, we understand that O’Brien wanted to show a hole in Ethan’s heart from being abandoned and not growing up in a functional family.  But he either needed to provide seeds for such a strange detail of talking to carvings or needed to show that hole in some other way.  Meeting the farmer family with five children was an attempt at that.  Perhaps O’Brien should have developed that more.

I liked Celia’s characterization of the intrusions to the island as a sacrilege.  The characters in these vignettes are also two dimensional, but I think that’s okay for vignettes.  Problem is that all characters (except for Skillsaw) are two dimensional.

The blood on wood imagery is stark in chapter three.  I wish O’Brien had developed that further.  Did I miss it later in the novel?