Happiness Falls

In a chapter that takes place entirely in the past, Kim provides background information about the family’s history, which is important to the difficult familial choices represented in Part 3. Kim characterizes the family members as individuals, but also as a cohesive family unit, and their shared history contextualizes their collective experience. Setting the first chapter of this section in the past makes the return to the present more abrupt, echoing in rhetorical technique the interruption described in the plot, as John and Mia decide to barge into Eugene’s hearing at the beginning of the following chapter.

Happiness Falls is set in 2020, and includes increasingly specific details about the real world cultural and political climate of that time, which increase the novel’s sense of verisimilitude. The intersection of current events and personal desires is sometimes jarring. For example, when the family learns that Eugene won’t need to go to the detention center due to a COVID-19 outbreak, Mia is delighted: “I realize how despicable this must seem, but fuck it, I’m going to say it—it was great news, a goddamned miracle! A COVID outbreak!” (192). She realizes that her reaction might seem off-putting, since COVID-19 has killed millions of people, but by focusing on the particular ramifications of this outbreak for only her family, the novel puts the Consequences of Small Actions theme on its head—here, a large negative event has small consequences that are beneficial for the select few. References to the pandemic have so far mostly facilitated the slightly off-kilter tone of the novel, and explain plot details like the fact that Mia is home from college. With Eugene’s reprieve from the detention order, the pandemic setting actively affects a key plot event of the novel.

The actions of Detective Janus are an overt reference to the 2020 protests about policing in the US: Mia hopes that locking up Eugene “would be too extreme for a nonverbal special-needs child, especially given the climate right now, in the wake of George Floyd” (196), the man whose murder at the hands of a police officer mid-arrest sparked protests and outrage. Detective Janus does not understand how to approach Eugene or interpret his actions; her knee-jerk response is to handcuff him and lock him up, which highlights the danger people with cognitive disabilities face when interacting with police officers. The specific reference to George Floyd raises questions of police brutality and systemic racism. Kim also provides a nuanced take on how police goals differ from those of the family. The police believe they are investigating a crime and looking for a suspect; meanwhile, Hannah, John, and Mia want to find out what happened to Adam, but also need “to defend Eugene and keep him safe at home” (200).

The contradiction between these aims is striking; also striking is the unhelpfulness of the detective in a novel that plays with the mystery genre. Detective Janus’s untrustworthiness (her last name comes from the ancient Roman god Janus, who literally has two different faces) is contrasted with the work of the upright lawyer Shannon. Unlike Janus, who hid her knowledge of the video showing Adam and Eugene in conflict from the Parkson family, Shannon’s list of Adam’s possible deaths obfuscates nothing—it has been made with “no judgment, no bullshit” (198). The collective decision to focus on exonerating Eugene advances the theme of Unbreakable Family Connections: Hannah, Mia, and John are deeply loyal to Eugene, despite their fears that he could have been involved in Adam’s death. This decision also prompts a shift in the narrative structure, as Hannah, John, and Mia become investigators themselves.