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59 pages 1 hour read

Dot Hutchison

The Butterfly Garden

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2016

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Part 1, Pages 3-42Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Part 1, Pages 3-42 Summary

Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of kidnapping, death, rape, child abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, and sexual violence and harassment.

At FBI headquarters, Special Agent in Charge Victor Hanoverian studies a young woman, perhaps still a teenager, through a one-way mirror. She is one of several girls who have just been rescued from a catastrophe, one that killed a number of other girls. So far, the agents have had difficulty learning the names and backstories of the rescued girls, but all of them share a peculiarity: a colorful design on their backs, each one slightly different. The girl behind the glass, whose left arm and both hands are thickly bandaged, has been quarantined for special questioning by the FBI, mainly because the other girls seem to regard her as a “leader”; another reason is that she refuses to open up about her past. This makes Agent Hanoverian wonder if she might be an accomplice rather than a victim. Special Agent Brandon Eddison, Victor’s gruff second-in-command, brings the news that the other survivors refer to the girl, whom he calls a “tough nut,” as “Maya.”

Maya, a “beautiful girl” with “golden-brown” skin, shows no fear of the agents and cuts off many of their queries with puckish sarcasm. She refuses to tell them where she lived before being kidnapped but offers that the man who abducted her and the other girls was known only as the Gardener. She begins her story by describing her waking up, with a splitting headache, in a mysterious place called the Garden. A beautiful, “Amazonian” woman who calls herself Lyonette presses a cool cloth to her head and offers her a painkiller. She, too, is a captive of the Gardener, and in the hours that follow she gives Maya a brief tour of a part of their prison. 

Maya’s room has thick glass walls, with tracks outside the door where opaque, soundproof walls come down periodically to trap the prisoners in their rooms; beyond is a hallway leading to a cave, which looks out onto a rapturously beautiful garden full of flowers and butterflies. A manmade cliff and waterfall loom over a trickling stream, which meanders into a sylvan pond ringed by stretches of sandy beach that lead to other caves and rooms. The vast atrium is solidly enclosed on all sides by glass, like a gigantic greenhouse. Sadly and wearily, as if she has given this tour many times before, Lyonette welcomes Maya to the Garden.

Maya, treating her FBI questioners with cagey distrust, continues to fend off their more pointed questions, a tendency Victor recognizes from his own teenage daughters. Finally she tells them that the large tattoo that covers her back, which the FBI techs have determined to be a “few years” old, is the work of the Gardener himself. During the weeks that he tattooed it onto her, she was lightly sedated and did not see his face. Warning her to remain very still throughout the torturous procedure, the Gardener explained that he was “marking” her because “a garden must have its butterflies” (16). 

Maya now backtracks and tells the agents about her life just before her abduction. She was sharing a big loft apartment in a dangerous neighborhood with seven other women, a “strange mix” of teenagers, college students, and a retired sex worker. The latter, a woman in her thirties named Sophia who had two young daughters, was a motherly figure for the rest. These girls, Maya says, were her “first friends,” and she worked with most of them at an Italian restaurant, where they were waitresses. Maya evades Victor’s questions about how she ended up in the big city at such a young age and continues her story of her imprisonment in the Garden. For the first few weeks, as the Gardener puts the finishing touches on Maya’s elaborate tattoo, he never allows her to look at him. Finally, when the tattoo is finished, he groans with satisfaction; christening her “Maya,” he says that she is his and rapes her.

The interview is interrupted by Brandon Eddison, who draws Victor aside to show him a large collection of IDs and driver’s licenses belonging to the abducted girls, found among the Gardener’s belongings. One of them, a New York ID, is Maya’s, showing her name as Inara Morrissey; however, it is a clever forgery, with the Social Security number of a long-deceased child. However, the ID has the address of her loft apartment, and tax records reveal that Inara worked at the Evening Star restaurant in New York City for two years prior to her abduction. As Eddison returns to the task of identifying the other girls from their IDs, Victor interrogates Inara about her fake ID and the Evening Star restaurant. Mostly hiding her discomfiture, Inara says she bought the ID from a professional forger for $1,000. She says she loved the anonymity of New York, where people with troubled pasts can lose themselves, and no one asks many questions. When Victor gently probes her about her past, she shows a flash of anger, then stubbornly returns to her story about the Garden.

Shortly after Inara’s rechristening and rape by the Gardener, Lyonette invites her into her room, which is almost identical to her own, but furnished with numerous origami creatures that Lyonette has made. With a mirror, she shows Inara the “terrible” but “lovely” butterfly tattoo on her back, which she says is a Western Pine Elfin butterfly; her own tattoo, she adds, is a Lustrous Copper. All of the girls are forced to wear backless black dresses that leave their tattoos visible. Soon another captive joins them, a girl only five feet tall but, like all the Gardener’s prisoners, “stunningly” beautiful. Named “Bliss” by the Gardener, she is notably less resigned than the gentle Lyonette and shows a caustic sense of humor. She advises Inara not to forget her real identity, to always remind herself that’s she’s just playing “a part” for the Gardener, as a way of keeping sane. She tells Inara to “check the hallways” (35) for a sobering reminder of what happens to captives who fail to adjust or who have a mental health crisis. 

While identifying the rescued girls, Victor and Eddison discover a new problem: One of them is Patrice Kingsley, the missing daughter of US Senator Kingsley, who will undoubtedly push her way into the investigation and create a media frenzy—which could threaten the victims’ privacy at a very vulnerable time for them. Moreover, if the senator discovers that Inara is a person of interest in the case, she could insist on charges being filed. Returning to their questioning of Inara, they finally get her to open up about her past. Her father, she says, was her mother’s third husband, and their marriage was dysfunctional almost from the start, with constant fighting and extramarital affairs. Inara was forced to do the grocery shopping and other errands at a very young age. When she was six, her parents took her to a theme park far from home, then thoughtlessly abandoned her on the carousel so they could each go off on a spontaneous fling with a random pickup. Not wanting to go to a foster home, Inara phoned her next-door neighbor, who drove two hours each way to bring her back home, then tried to molest her in the car. Escaping from him, she returned to her unhappy home.

Part 1, Pages 3-42 Analysis

The Butterfly Garden, though primarily a horror/suspense novel, has elements of the police procedural, with two FBI agents (Victor Hanoverian and Brandon Eddison) whose detective work frames the novel’s action from beginning to end. Honest and forthright, Hanoverian and Eddison shepherd the reader through the story’s central mysteries, providing a moral presence that juxtaposes the relentless darkness of the novel’s action. Moreover, in a story of graphic crimes against women that are rooted mostly in toxic masculinity, the two male agents relieve the novel’s bleakness at regular intervals, offering a nuanced vision of masculinity, one that gradually softens the protagonist’s own distrust of men. As such, their narrative role serves not only the resolution of the novel’s mysteries but also the protagonist’s psychological closure and emotional healing.

In the novel’s first pages, the two detectives act as proxies for the reader, because the central figure (Maya/Inara) begins as an unknown quantity: evasive, mysterious, and perhaps untrustworthy. The agents suspect that she might be an accomplice to the Gardener’s crimes, either before or after the fact. Inara’s slipperiness and possible complicity provide narrative suspense and explain why she, out of the 13 surviving victims, becomes the focus of the investigation. As Inara tells her story, the story’s procedural trappings gradually recede, as the agents’ role becomes one of listening rather than detective work. The novel reveals itself as a young woman’s first-person account of horror and abuse—relieved regularly by the agents’ sympathetic ear, which also helps to ground the story’s more surreal aspects in the familiar world of the everyday police procedural.

Fending off the agents’ questions about her life prior to her abduction, Inara begins her tale with her first sights and sensations upon waking up in the Garden. As such, she frames the experience as a sort of birth, as a new being fully formed, without history—like Eve in the Garden of Eden, the first of the novel’s many instances of Biblical Allegory, Satire, and the Violence of Power. Like the Garden of Eden, Inara’s bucolic prison is despotically controlled by an imperious, godlike creator (the Gardener) who wields absolute power of life and death over its inhabitants. His power over them resides mostly in their isolation and in his mastery of technology: With a remote-control device, he can instantly trap them in their rooms, and his surveillance cameras, which observe them at even their most private moments, give him a godlike omniscience over them at all times. 

By “marking” them with his unique, elaborate butterfly tattoos, and renaming them according to his own whim, he “creates” them anew, as the biblical God created Eve from the raw material of Adam’s rib. Through these quasi-religious rituals, he believes, they become his, to do with as he likes. The Butterfly Garden’s many biblical analogies are a trenchant reminder of how male domination of women, sexual and otherwise, has long been rationalized, even sanctified, by the use of religious dogma. Tellingly—as becomes clear later—the Gardener, despite his many crimes against women, nevertheless sees himself as benevolent and highly moral. Inara hints at this when she reminds Eddison that Adolf Hitler (like the FBI) thought of himself as one of the “good guys” too.

Lyonette, an “Amazonian” young woman who has been a prisoner of the Garden for almost five years, helps Inara find her grounding, as she does for all newcomers: a nurturing, often lifesaving role that Inara will take up after Lyonette’s death. The surrogate “family” that the Gardener’s captives construct for each other, which is pivotal to their sanity and survival, speaks to the theme of The Power of Interpersonal Relationships in Surviving Difficult Situations. Inara has experienced this kind of motherly (or sisterly) support system only once before in her life, after fleeing her loveless, neglectful family at age 14 for New York City, where she forged a makeshift sisterhood with a clique of hard-living waitresses looked after by Sophia, a former sex worker. As Inara begins to share details of her pre-Garden past with the agents, she suggests that her relationships in New York, like those in the Garden, were still no substitute for a true, loving family life, or even true friendship, both of which were denied her. Describing herself as a “shadow child, overlooked rather than broken” (37), she believes that she has never been loved and that she might actually be incapable of loving. 

Both in the Garden and in New York, Inara did not choose her companions: They were thrown together by chance, and as a result, her friendships seemed to her largely transactional, a stratagem for mutual survival, not a true connection. The Butterflies did not even share their real names with each other until their last day of life. There are also hints that Inara’s traumatic family life, which has left her incapable of crying, has also blinded her to others’ feelings for her—a common effect of childhood abuse and neglect on one’s self-esteem. When, at novel’s end, she is reunited with Sophia, she discovers that she was not as “overlooked” as she thought.

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