The Giver of Stars

“She had once been told by her favorite aunt that the best way to get through life was not to dwell on things so she packed those events into a suitcase, and shoved it to the back of a mental cupboard, just as she had done with numerous suitcases before.” 

Alice attempts to use a faulty coping mechanism to get through life. Shoving her desires into a mental cupboard doesn’t change the fact that she’s unhappy—it only makes it worse.

“A certain kind of man looked at God’s own land, she thought, as she drew closer, and instead of beauty and wonder, all he saw was dollar signs.” 

While Margery looks at nature and sees beauty not profit, Mr. Van Cleve views the land only as a means to a profitable end. This quote highlights their view not only of nature but also of people.

“Kentucky, huh? Most beautiful place on earth, and the most brutal. Sometimes I think God wanted to show us all His ways at once.” 

William admits here that Kentucky is a gorgeous land. As a black man, however, he also knows that life is dangerous for him. This dichotomy between peace and violence is an everyday affair for him.

“Izzy, right in front of them, began to change into someone quite new, her torso extending, her mouth opening wider to reach the notes. She was somewhere quite distant now, somewhere beloved to her.” 

Izzy, normally quiet and withdrawn, begins to sing for the other librarians. Her love of singing gives her confidence, and this confidence is contagious for the other women.  

“Just a little homesick, Alice answered. It was the truth, she thought. She just wasn’t sure she had yet been to the place she was homesick for.” 

Alice has left her home in England and journeyed to a new one in Kentucky. Despite calling two places home, Alice doesn’t know what it means to belong to a place until she experiences love and inclusion at Garrett’s funeral.

“You don’t think knowing that I’m here purely because I want to be—not because some ring says I have to be—is a greater kind of love?” 

Margery and Sven argue about getting married. Though religion touts marriage as the symbol of love’s fulfillment, Margery makes the case here that remaining by Sven’s side, without ceremony or convention, is a better example of true love.

“Mountain people were stoic, not given to unexpected shows of vulnerability.” 

Despite Kathleen’s usual reticence, she breaks down in front of Alice. Her breakdown indicates her grief over her husband’s death, but it also shows how comfortable she is with Alice around. Margery has also mentioned that she can let her guard down easily around Alice.

“She might as well be one of those dolls, she thought, as she walked through the bedroom. Smiling, immobile, decorative and silent.” 

Mr. Van Cleve holds on to his wife’s porcelain dolls as mementos. To Alice, they symbolize how he views women in general: cold, lifeless creatures on display, with no voice.

“It’s a tougher job than you think, sometimes, isn’t it? Not really about delivering books at all.” 

Though the librarians face many adversities for the sake of delivering books to those who request them, the library is symbolically larger than just book delivery. The librarians provide moral and emotional support for many of the people with whom they interact.

“There is always a way out of a situation. […] But you are never trapped, Alice. You hear me? There is always a way around.” 

Margery attempts to ease Alice’s suffering after Mr. Van Cleve beats Alice. She offers Alice hope and also foreshadows the hope that Alice later holds on to, when she finds a way around Margery’s conviction for murder.

‘“You know the worst thing about a man hitting you?’ Margery said finally […] ‘That it don’t matter how smart you are, how much better at arguing, how much better than them, period. It’s when you realize they can always just shut you up with a fist. Just like that.’” 

Margery explains that when violence is acceptable, men and women don’t have a level playing field. Men can simply overpower women to win an argument, no matter how intellectually or ethically superior the woman’s argument is. The woman is left feeling humiliated, although she doesn’t deserve to be, because she has no way to fight back.

“It was always the kindness that would kill you.” 

Alice tries putting on a brave face after Mr. Van Cleve beats her. She’s mostly successful, but when Fred shows her kindness—the one things she truly needs—he breaks through her defenses and she cries.

“You beat a horse and you can break it all right. You can make it submit. But it’ll never forget. And it sure as hell won’t care for you. So if I wouldn’t do it to a horse, I could never work out why I should do it to a human.” 

The town considers Fred unmanly because he refused to beat his wife. Here, he explains to Alice that beating something or someone into submission only creates resentment and bad blood.

“Alice had discovered how, for a woman at least, it was much easier to feel anger on behalf of someone you cared about, to access that cold burn, to want to make someone suffer if they had hurt someone you loved.” 

Alice finds a new purpose for her anger when she determines to help Margery. Though she doesn’t know how to help herself, she puts all her effort and anger into making sure that no one harms Margery.

“The Pack Horse Library had become, in the months of its existence, a symbol of many things, and a focus for others, some controversial and some that would provoke unease in certain people however long it stayed around.” 

The library begins as a test-run project to help families become literate. By the end of the narrative, the library symbolizes the hopes, fears, and dreams of Baileyville.

“All I can give you, Alice, is…words.” 

Fred speaks these words to Alice after she attempts to kiss him while still married. Though he stops her, he informs her that they can still express their feelings through literature. Literature serves as a vessel that helps connect people—a shared experience, even when it’s fictional.

“A baby. Alice was filled with a complex mix of emotions—shock, admiration that, yet again, Margery had decided to play life by her own rules […]” 

Margery’s behavior often shocks Alice, yet when she finds out that Margery is pregnant, even Alice can’t fathom what Margery’s thinking. Alice isn’t initially sure how she feels about a baby out of wedlock, but she’s more concerned about Margery’s reputation.

“There was not a time when Alice visited her that it didn’t seem that having Margery in a cell was a crime against nature: a flat-out reversal of how everything should be.” 

Margery is at peace in the mountains, in the outdoors. The fact that she’s cooped up in a dark, dank jail cell is a crime in itself. Margery’s weakness and detachment grow the longer she’s incarcerated in a confined space.

“[…] and the sound of each whack of the blade splintering the wood behind her made her flinch, as if it were not just the wood being rent in two.” 

Alice and Fred have a complicated relationship. They love each other, yet Alice must return to England because she can’t marry Fred. When he hacks away at the wood, it’s as if he’s confirming that their future—and his heart—is ripping apart as well.

“I worked it out sitting here. Maybe that’s the thing we need to understand, Alice. That some things are a gift, even if you don’t get to keep them.” 

Despite Fred being despondent over Alice’s eventual departure, he shows her the beautiful sight of fireflies that won’t live long. Fred reasons that Alice, like the fireflies, is a gift he can’t have long, but she’s still a gift.

“This is not about truth, Mr. Gustavsson. It’s about strategy. And no matter what the truth of this matter is, you can bet that the other side is working hardest on theirs.” 

Sven’s lawyer explains Margery’s situation point blank: Truth doesn’t always matter in a court of law, especially in Margery’s case. Truth is a creation, and the side that creates the most convincing form of truth wins.

“You don’t get to do [make your own rules] in Lee County, maybe not in the whole of Kentucky. Not if you’re a woman.” 

Margery, the speaker here, has always lived her life as she sees fit, answering to no one—especially not men. When she’s jailed, she realizes that she doesn’t really have freedom because she’s a woman. Being a good person isn’t enough when you’re a woman in a misogynistic town.

“The way Margery had isolated herself made Alice want to weep. It was like an animal that deliberately takes itself off somewhere solitary before it dies.” 

Margery prepares herself for a guilty verdict, pushing everyone she loves away. Alice likens her sad, strange behavior to animals that wish to die alone. These actions signify that Margery is indeed ready for her assumed fate.