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.

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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. 

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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?