53 pages • 1 hour read
Patti Callahan HenryA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Despite the novel’s misleading use of another character’s name in the title, Hazel Linden is the book’s protagonist and point-of-view character. The narrative follows her at different points in her life, primarily at ages 15 and 36, with intermediate points in time in between. Despite the changes that Hazel undergoes throughout her life, there are a few consistent through-lines that characterize her identity. The first is her devotion and sense of responsibility toward her sister. This is clear both when Flora is physically present as well as when Flora is a memory that takes on mythic proportions. Regardless of what else is happening in Hazel’s mental sphere, Hazel constantly “kept her eyes peeled for a girl with blond curls, laughing in the woodlands of her imagination” (271).
Hazel’s sense of responsibility for Flora is born out of a deep and intense sisterly love but also a need to step into a maternal role and prove herself as someone worthy of the challenge. This becomes an obsession that overrides all else, becoming an instinct more maternal than sororal. For example, when Hazel spends her first morning with Bridie, she conducts herself with careful grace and deportment to prove that Bridie has made a safe choice; when called by Flora in a panic, however, Hazel hurls herself toward her sister and stomps on Bridie’s foot along the way. Flora’s momentary need effectively unravels Hazel’s goal of presenting herself in a certain way. Fortunately for both girls, Bridie creates a safe and nonjudgmental environment for this attitude.
Later in life, this obsessive attitude toward her identity as a sister continues to put more precarious relationships at risk. She strains her relationship with Barnaby as well as Edwin’s trust and her professional future for the sake of a high-stakes treasure hunt that she believes will lead her to Flora. At one point, Hazel does recognize the destructive nature of this path; however, her instinct to find and protect Flora ultimately overshadows all else.
Along the way, Hazel also struggles with guilt over her failure as a sister, which crosses over into her connection with storytelling. She essentially disowns the place stories have in her life, particularly the telling and sharing of them. In one sense, she blames Whisperwood for taking her sister away; in another, she deprives herself of this world as a form of punishment. Both these factors contribute to Hazel creating a life for herself that is constantly at a distance from what she loves most. This attitude also extends to allowing herself to feel things intensely, as she did for Harry the day Flora was lost. In the novel’s final chapter, Hazel is shown launching her first book. This memoir represents a rebirth and a resurgence of the intensity she had lost; through writing down her story, she takes these complex emotions and channels them to create something new.
Although Flora is not the central point-of-view protagonist of the novel, she is the driving force of the story. This is apparent in the choice of using her name in the title, The Secret Book of Flora Lea. The novel’s very first chapter is told from her point of view, and then her voice isn’t revisited again until her new identity as Dorothy Bellamy is revealed. Flora is intelligent, imaginative, and adaptable, having been exposed to the realities of war from a young and formative age. For example, when Flora learns that Kelty’s mother has been killed, she knowingly responds, “‘Like Papa,’ […] so matter-of-fact it cracked Hazel’s heart. Death should never be matter-of-fact” (230). In some ways, this young iteration of Flora is even more well-adapted than Hazel is, because she has never lived through a time knowing anything else.
After she is taken away from her family, Flora is given a new name and grows up with a new family in Newcastle. Eventually, her conscious memory fades and she grows to embody Dorothy Bellamy. However, the mystery of her disappearance burrows into her unconscious mind, and she spends several years unknowingly searching for her own identity. This journey, ironically, creates a divide between her and Hazel as Hazel misconstrues her intentions and holds her at a distance. Dorothy dives into the stories of countless “Pied Piper” children and helps give them a voice, never knowing that she was struggling to express her own. When she does finally discover the truth, the novel avoids the easy simplicity of a heartfelt reunion; Dot finds herself caught between two realities, both of which have become a very real part of her being. She expresses sympathy for the woman who kidnapped her and recognizes the love they shared throughout her life. Additionally, the novel gives her an external life with a husband, son, and career. This gives Dot more depth and facets as a complete, dynamic person, rather than simply making her a grown-up version of the child Hazel lost. Like Hazel, Dot ultimately finds solace and renewal in the act of storytelling—in honoring the lost voice she spent all those years looking for.
Harry is the first friend Hazel makes in Oxfordshire, even before they learn each other’s names. He helps her when she’s struggling in a new place, then convinces his mother, Bridie, to give Hazel and Flora a home. He immediately becomes a positive presence in the girls’ lives, introducing them to the area and defending them against bullies who judge them for their status as evacuees (or “vaccies”). Unbeknownst to Hazel, Harry is also trying to fill the gap left behind by his father. As Bridie and Harry live in a relatively small rural community, the lack of a strong male presence in the household puts Bridie at a social and practical disadvantage; Harry attempts to stretch himself to fill this space, even as a child.
Although Harry is initially drawn to mathematics, he finds the intellectual challenge unsatisfying and moves away from this left-brain pathway toward a more emotionally driven artistic medium. This represents a point of connection between Harry and Hazel and the way in which they see the world in similar ways. Although Hazel uses words to express herself and Harry uses visual art, both are a form of storytelling—of creating a moment of narrative to make sense of the space around them. Through his journey, Harry becomes increasingly more comfortable in his own being—in contrast to Hazel, who loses and then finds herself again. Harry’s progress is one of shedding the elements that did not feel true to himself and learning what makes him feel whole. The final step in this journey is exonerating himself of the guilt he has carried all his life over Flora’s loss, not knowing that Hazel carried the same guilt with her. By the end of the novel, he and Hazel open their own business that celebrates the art of storytelling both narratively and visually, thus furthering the exploration they both began as children.
Barnaby is introduced as a love interest for Hazel’s adult self and a pathway into her future. He comes from a wealthy background that juxtaposes Harry’s and Hazel’s more modest upbringings, representing the loss of Hazel’s childhood self and the new future she is building for herself. Despite their different social backgrounds, Barnaby’s wealth and privilege initially brings them together; they encounter each other at Sotheby’s auction house, where they both bid on the same valuable piece of literary memorabilia. While Hazel is there purely as an admiring spectator, Barnaby is on a mission to add to his father’s collection. However, they bond over their shared love of literature.
Narratively speaking, Barnaby is an antagonistic force in Hazel’s story in that his objective—to move forward in his life with Hazel instead of backward—is in direct opposition with Hazel’s goal. This creates tension between them, even though Barnaby isn’t portrayed as being dishonest or villainous in any way. He makes a genuine effort to support Hazel emotionally and financially when her quest for Flora damages other areas of her life; however, his predominant practicality makes it difficult for him to entirely understand her instinctive, emotionally driven path. By encouraging her to let go of a dead memory, he believes he’s helping her heal rather than impeding her success. At one point in the novel, Hazel confesses that her trauma from losing Flora has impeded her ability to become emotionally intimate or express the sort of intense desire Barnaby feels for her. This revelation becomes a hinge between past and present, at which point Barnaby realizes he can no longer exist in this liminal space. His relationship with Hazel ends when he stands up for his self-worth and demands to be chosen, rather than simply accepted.
Bridie is a kind, warm, and welcoming influence on Hazel’s life who encompasses the overall cottage aesthetic of Hazel’s experiences in Oxfordshire. In some ways she is a personification, or living manifestation, of the home she offers to Hazel and Flora. Hazel’s first impression is that Bridie “looked like the sort of lady who would be friends with their mum, the sort who laughed and made things in the stove that smelled like home” (61). Bridie is a foil to the war-ravaged horrors Hazel has left behind in London, and the novel uses her character to create a sharper juxtaposition between the two contrasting worlds.
Despite this kindness, however, Bridie is a clear outsider in her community. This stems partly from the unexplained disappearance of her “husband” (a man who is revealed not to have been Bridie’s husband at all), as well as her nonconformist Personal Interpretation of Religion and Spirituality. She is independent and deeply insightful, two traits that have a strong impact on the way she lives but are considered nontraditional, and even subversive, for a woman during this time. This causes suspicion for Flora’s disappearance to become directed at Bridie and her home. In spite of this hostility, however, Bridie never loses her capacity for compassion. She remains true to herself and lives the way she knows is right for her. While Bridie is a largely static character (contrary to a dynamic character, she does not undergo any sort of dramatic change over the course of the novel), she illustrates the potential for human goodness and understanding at a time in which much of the country’s human goodness had been stripped away.
By Patti Callahan Henry