The Night Visitors(73)
The people I have met at Family inform the spirit of this book. Their dedication, selflessness, good humor, and kindness never cease to amaze me. They gave me hope in a year that seemed at times bleak and hopeless, when it seemed that the selfish and opportunistic had gained sway in the country. Family taught me that there are kindly ones willing to help the vulnerable and that family is not determined by biology—it’s what we make from the people we help and are helped by. And in the end, that’s what I wanted for my characters Mattie, Alice, and Oren—to find their family of choice.
Reading Group Guide
Do you consider Frank a sympathetic character? Did his death change your opinion of him?
How does the hidden house layered within Mattie’s house symbolize her relationship with Caleb and the rest of her family?
How does the book’s wintry setting affect the events that take place? How does it constrain and aid the characters?
How did the alternating points of view between Alice and Mattie shape your impressions of both women?
How does the Greek mythology featured throughout the book inform the book’s setting, characters, and events?
At the start of chapter thirteen, Oren decides Mattie is Princess Leia and Alice is Rey in their game of Star Wars. To what degree does this reflect Mattie and Alice’s relationship? Are there other roles you would assign them or some of the other characters in the book?
Many characters are either running from the past or stuck in the past. In both cases, voices call to them from the past, whether it’s Mattie’s mom, Caleb, or Davis. How effectively does each of the characters deal with these voices? Are there voices from your past that echo in your ears?
Forgiveness and vengeance are major themes in the book. How do they balance and counteract each other?
How does the book’s ending subvert society’s expectations of how families are supposed to look and the roles and responsibilities people are supposed to take on?
To what degree do you think Caleb’s actions were driven by vengeance versus love?
Support between women plays a big role in the book, not only with Mattie and Alice but with Doreen, Atefeh, and Sister Martine as well. How does this contrast with the men in the book? How do you think this will affect Oren as he grows up?
Read On
An Excerpt from The Other Mother
“Can you tell me when you first thought about hurting your child?”
“It was a few days after we’d come home from the hospital. I was carrying her down the stairs . . . there’s a steep drop from the landing and when I looked over it I suddenly had this . . . picture in my head of myself lifting her over the banister and dropping her.”
“And did you ever do anything like that? Deliberately drop her . . . or hurt her in any other way?”
“No! It was just a thought. I’d never hurt my baby . . . in fact, I did everything I could to make sure I didn’t hurt her . . . to keep her safe.”
“What exactly did you do to keep yourself from hurting her?”
. . .
“Ms. XX?”
. . .
“Ms. XX, what did you do to keep your child safe?”
Chapter One
She’s crying again.
I don’t know why I say again. Sometimes it seems as if she’s done nothing but cry since she was born. As if she’d come into this world with a grudge.
“We’re almost there, sweetie,” I call to her in the backseat, but she only cries louder, as if she can recognize my reassurance for the lie it is. The truth is I don’t know where we are or how far we are from our destination. The last time I looked at the map app on the new (cheap, pay-as-you-go) phone, it showed our location as a blue dot in a sea of endless green. As if we’d fallen off the map of the known world. When we crossed the river there was a sign that said WELCOME TO THE LAND OF RIP VAN WINKLE. I feel as if I’ve fallen asleep and woken to an unrecognizable world—only who sleeps with a crying six-month-old?
“Do you want your ba-ba?” I offer, even though she just finished a bottle half an hour ago. I root around in the diaper bag on the passenger seat but find only an empty bottle. Hadn’t I made up two at the last gas station? Or had I been distracted by the woman in pressed corduroy trousers and Burberry jacket who’d eyed me microwaving a bottle with that Why-aren’t-you-breastfeeding-don’t-you-know-bottles-will-rot-your-baby’s-teeth-and-lower-her-IQ look. She was holding the hand of a toddler who had an iPhone in his other hand, his eyes glued to the screen.
At least it won’t rot her brain, I had it in mind to say but instead out popped, “Isn’t it hard traveling with kids? We’ve been driving for hours! My husband’s away on business and I’m relocating for a new job.”
Burberry Jacket eyed me up and down as if she didn’t think I looked very employable. In my ratty old sweatshirt, grimy jeans, greasy hair pulled back in a sloppy bun I suppose I didn’t. I should have left it at that but I had to add, “—as an archivist at a private library.”
Her eyes widened, either because she was impressed or thought I was crazy. The latter, most likely, from the way she clutched her electronics-besotted son closer to her. Archivist. How stupid could I get? She’d remember me. When she saw my picture in the paper—
It won’t be in the paper, I told myself for the hundred and seventh time (I’d been counting) since we’d left. I’d made sure of that.