Plainsong

“She lay in the guest bed on her back now with her arm still folded across her face like someone in great distress. A thin woman, caught as though in some inescapable thought or attitude, motionless, almost as if she were not even breathing.” 

Ella’s depression is not greatly explored in the novel, though the effect which her condition has on her children is a central premise in the book. In this scene, Bobby and Ike return from collecting the money for the newspapers and go to see their mother. They prepare themselves, combing their hair and washing their faces as though they are about to attend a formal event. When they enter the dark room, they find their mother sprawled in the bed as though she were “in great distress” (20). Seen from the boy’s perspective, Ella’s mental health is a confusing, terrifying condition. The “inescapable thought or attitude” (20) hangs over her like a ghost, almost as though she has been possessed and is no longer their mother. Bobby and Ike do not possess the mental faculties with which to understand and process Ella’s depression. It is as if she were “not even breathing” (20): the mother they once knew is, in a figurative sense, dead. 

“They went out to the kitchen and poured milk into two glasses and got down the storebought glazed cookies from the cupboard and stood at the counter eating, standing close to each other, not talking but eating quickly, single-mindedly, until they were finished and then they drank of the remaining milk and set the glasses in the sink and went back outside again.” 

With Ella in her depressive state, Bobby and Ike are forced to grow up fast. At home, they feed and take care of themselves, doing for one another what their mother would normally do for them. They acknowledge that Ella should be eating with them—that this would be the “normal” state of affairs—but quickly move on to the reality of their situation. However, there is a childlike quality to their actions which reminds the reader of their young age. When they are compelled to feed themselves, they opt for cookies and milk—a staple of childhood. This also foreshadows the scene in which Bobby and Ike bake cookies with Mrs. Stearns, who tries to fill the maternal void in their lives. 

“The girl sat at the table warming her hands on the tea cup. Gradually she had begun to tell about the boyfriend. About the nights in the backseat of his car parked out on a dirt road five miles north of town where the road stopped at an old fallen-in homestead house, where there was an old gray barn and broken windmill and the few low trees were dark against the dark sky and where the night wind came in through the open car windows smelling of sage and summer grass. And the love then. She told very briefly about that. The scent of him close up, his aftershave, the feel of his hands and the urgency of what they did, then the quiet talking for a little while afterward sometimes. And always afterward, the ride home.” 

Victoria and Maggie sit and drink tea while Victoria explains her summer romance. The story is rambling, vague, and full of run-on sentences, exactly as it might be told by a nervous teenager confessing her sins to her teacher. The blunt four-word interjection—“and the love then” (35)—is the only moment of romance in the story, though Victoria brushes past it quickly, almost as though she is embarrassed. It is as if the idea of love was a notion she entertained at the time, but she now realizes it is utterly false. The “quiet talking” (35), for example, always led to “the ride home” (35). Now, as she finds herself in a difficult position, she recognizes the hollowness of the romance for what it was. 

“Honey, Maggie Jones said. Victoria. Listen to me. You’re here now. This is where you are.” 

At the end of a chapter in which Maggie has encouraged Victoria to take a pregnancy test, this quote stands in stark contrast to their earlier conversation about Dwayne. At that time, Victoria’s rambling reminiscences seemed nostalgic and regretful. Here, Maggie projects the harsh reality in short, sharp bursts of information. Sentences like “[h]oney” and “Victoria” (48) consist of a single word, while the other three sentences measure three, three, and five words respectively. They are hammer blows, forcing Victoria to comprehend the imminent and worrying nature of her situation. Though Maggie tries to sugar coat the delivery by referring to Victoria as “[h]oney” (48), there is no escaping the truth of the matter. The pregnancy is happening, and Victoria will need to start preparing for it accordingly. 

“Leave her go then, Raymond said. But she was a good mother, you have to say that for her.” 

The manner in which the McPheron brothers talk about their cattle can be considered callous, though the function of this discussion in the context of the novel establishes their appreciation and understanding of motherhood before Victoria arrives in their home. In the above quote, the two brothers discuss a cow who is no longer able to provide calves. They discuss whether she should be kept alive based on how much feed she will take up. It is a cost-benefit analysis which might well end in the slaughter of the cow. At the end of the discussion, there is a footnote added by Raymond: “She was a good mother” (58). This appreciation for the years she has given the farm and for the many calves she has borne is an important point. Though they do not know it yet, Victoria’s arrival will alter the way they think about motherhood. The callous, financial aspect will be removed in favor of the emotive approach. Though the brothers will frequently use their cattle as a point of reference during Victoria’s pregnancy, they will never talk about her in quite the same way. As such, this quote functions as an early denotation of their understanding of what it means to be a mother, against which future understandings can be compared and contrasted. 

“I guess they never found the right girl, their father said. I don’t rightly know.

Bobby looked out the window. He said, I guess they didn’t want to leave each other.” 

In the novel, there are two sets of brothers: Harold and Raymond McPheron, and Bobby and Ike Guthrie. When the boys go with their father to visit the McPherons, they are offered a glimpse at the potential future of their sibling dynamic many decades hence. Already, Bobby and Ike are becoming more and more reliant on one another. There is no scene in which one features where the other is not present (or at the very least, nearby). This codependency, fostered by their mother’s condition and their father’s communication struggles, has bound them together. For the McPherons, their isolation and bachelor lifestyle has meant that they only have one another and, up until Victoria’s arrival, they have not even considered the possibility of this arrangement changing. In the car on the way back from the farm, Bobby ponders the McPherons’ dynamic. Whether he is explicitly aware of the similarities or not, he is able to sympathies with and understand the fact that the brothers never got married. When he notes, “I guess they didn’t want to leave each other” (65), he is demonstrating that he understands the value in their sibling relationship, sympathizing with the older brothers because he and Ike are growing so close together. While Bobby and Ike have many decades before they become anything akin to the McPheron brothers, they certainly share many qualities. 

“That doesn’t matter, Ike said. It wasn’t yours. You didn’t see her.” 

In this chapter, Bobby and Ike take a school friend to the abandoned house where they saw three teenagers engage in sexual experiments. Though they were eventually chased from the building by a shotgun-wielding neighbor, the main point of contention for Bobby and Ike is the fact that their friend, Donny, stole a candle from the building. At this point, Bobby and Ike feel possessive over the memory of what happened. They feel bound to a girl in a way they are not yet able to explain. Given they have no point of reference for their nascent understanding of sex, they latch on to an idea that they do understand: stealing is wrong. As such, when Donny takes the candle from the building, they feel that he is tarnishing the memory that they have shared with him. To take the candle is, in some way, an insult to the girl (or, at least, their idea of the girl). This is why Ike conflates the two ideas. “It wasn’t yours. You didn’t see her” (83), he says, and the back-to-back sentences help to create an implied bond between the importance of seeing the girl and defending the sanctity of the scene. By stealing the candle, Donny has offended the girl and shattered the memory of the night which Ike and Bobby tried to share. They focus on the candle because they do not have the vocabulary to understand why they are annoyed about their sexual feelings. In this quote, Bobby and Ike reveal their innocence as well as their increasing isolation from the rest of their peer group. 

“The girl put the phone back. She felt very alone now, cut off and frightened for the first time.” 

The reality of Victoria’s situation slowly becomes clear as she tries to contact to the father of her child. Victoria is only able to reach Dwayne’s mother, who refuses to pass along any useful information. Up until this point, Victoria seems to have retained a small hope that Dwayne might return. Victoria does not yet realize that Dwayne’s absence is a blessing in disguise. By emphasizing Victoria’s despondency at this moment, the writer is able to elicit an even greater reaction to the positive nature of the McPheron house, to explain why Victoria might wish to leave with Dwayne, and to make it all the more powerful when she decides to return to Holt from Denver. 

“She looked bad now. She appeared to be completely worn out. They could see that. She had been a pretty woman with soft brown hair and slim arms and a thin waist. But now she looked sick. Her eyes were sunken behind dark circles and her face was pasty-looking, thin and drawn, as if for days she’d forgotten to eat or as if nothing she brought to her mouth tasted good enough anymore, even to take in and chew and swallow.” 

Throughout the course of the novel, Ella’s condition has grown progressively worse. Her depression affects her physically, manifesting itself in her gaunt and sunken features. Ella’s decision to leave the Guthrie house is made away from the narrative; one day she is in her dark room, the next she is in the “little pale stucco house” (90). This helps the reader understand the matter from Bobby and Ike’s perspective. Ella seems to be getting worse, and the situation seems to metastasize continually. There is no explanation, only a series of tragic events. The young brothers can understand that their mother is not well. They can see the changes which come over, her but they struggle to understand them. Their solution—buying her perfume and presents—does nothing to rectify the situation. Bobby and Ike are learning an important lesson about life, though they are struggling to deal with their lack of agency.      

“You’re going to die some day without ever having had enough trouble in your life. Not of the right kind, anyway. This is your chance.” 

Maggie places a heavy burden on the McPheron brothers when she asks them to take in Victoria. They are set in their ways; they are both products of living the same lifestyle for a number of decades. To introduce a young (and pregnant) girl into the dynamic is a paradigm shift which neither of them had been expecting. As such, there needs to be an explanation or a justification for why they would accept this, beyond simple good will of communal duty. The brothers are taken aback by Maggie’s proposal and initially offer her money instead. Maggie must justify the idea: She explains that their home is “too lonesome” (99) and that, in the face of their mortality, they finally have the chance to change their life. She does not say that it will be a positive change or one that will profit or satisfy them in anyway. Rather, she is selling the idea of change for change’s sake. There is no guarantee of happiness, but she is offering them the chance to finally, after all these years, change their way of life. The proposal leaves the brothers unsure and Maggie, presuming to know their answers, leaves to allow them to think about the matter: “This is your chance” (99), she tells them before she leaves, dangling the prospect in front of them. 

“She regarded him steadily. You know, you make me really tired sometimes.

I guess that goes both ways, he said.

[…]

She spoke again. I’m sorry about that for both of us, she said. I’m sorry about a lot of things. And I’ve decided I’m finally tired of being sorry. 

By the time Guthrie drives out to the house where Ella is staying temporarily, both of them know that the marriage is over. Here, however, she is taking her share of the blame. It is a difficult admission, but an important one. Given the magnitude of the decision she has made and that her future lies in Denver—away from their sons—this is an example of Ella conceding ground in the short-term, knowing how important it will be to maintain cordial relations in the long-term. Ella only wants to put the past behind her in the hope that she can break free of her depression with a change of scenery. 

“It’s ridiculous to get so old, she said. It’s stupid and ridiculous.”

After Ella’s reluctant departure, Bobby and Ike are left without a female role model in their lives. Though Guthrie works hard to provide for them, he is isolated and uncommunicative in his own way. When the boys admit to Mrs. Stearns that their mother has left for Denver, the old woman immediately diagnoses their need for maternal care. However, Mrs. Stearns’ role is more complicated than simply a substitute mother for two unfortunate boys. In the small snippets of her past, it is possible to glimpse her bitterness and regret. As she shows the boys her photo album—a treasure trove of youth and happiness—she begins to see the limits of her own mortality: “It’s ridiculous” (129) she gripes, refusing to go gently into the night. Though the boys are unable to grasp the weight of her admission, it foreshadows that Mrs. Stearns is not long for the world. 

“We’re willing to put up with a lot from you men, but in the evening we want to hear some talking. We want to have a little conversation in the house.” 

The dramatic shift in the McPherons’ lifestyle takes its toll on the brothers and Victoria. After decades of quiet evenings of comfortable silence, the brothers suddenly have a third party in their home. While they continue exactly as they always have, Victoria finds the situation difficult and discusses it with Maggie. Once again, Maggie steps in to mediate a communication issue and helps the brothers find a resolution. As is evidenced by their attempts to talk to Victoria about farm produce markets, they struggle to even implement the idea of a little conversation. However, compared to Victoria’s mother, Dwayne, or Dwayne’s mother, the McPheron brothers go out of their way to try and please Victoria. This action, the narrative suggests, is why Victoria is better suited to life on the farm. 

“I don’t know that, Harold said, not for a certified fact. But you take a two-year-old heifer that’s carrying a calf. She’s not up all night long, restless, moving around, is she.” 

This quote is another example of the McPheron brothers attempting to understand the novel nature of their new arrangement. Victoria has entered their lives. She spends a great deal of time acting like a typical teenager girl (or, indeed, a pregnant woman). Her behavior is disconcerting to the brothers, who attempt to figure out the appropriate response. In this quote, they reveal their only real framework for understanding women (and, in particular, pregnant women). As cattle farmers, they are familiar with the natural process of conception and birth. They have overseen the births of hundreds of different calves and have the expertise required to oversee hundreds more. It seems natural to them that they should use this knowledge when trying to comprehend Victoria’s behavior. However, Raymond does acknowledge this framework might not be applicable, as he instantly asks Harold, “How in hell does that apply?” (150). The brothers’ difficulty in applying their vast knowledge to a new situation is part of their struggle throughout the novel. 

“But she didn’t want to feel anything at all for him anymore.” 

Victoria’s sudden reunion with Dwayne leads her on a whirlwind journey to Denver. At first, she does not know how to treat the father of her child. Though the arrangement is strange, her place at the McPheron home is simple and easy—she has finally found a place where she belongs. Thus, when Dwayne reappears, she is torn on how to react. She does not want to feel anything toward Dwayne, as doing so would only complicate her situation. The word “anymore” (168), however, hints at her previous hopes. She once had feelings for Dwayne, and it is this latent romance (if not exactly love) which shatters the foundations of her present situation. She knows it is not helpful to feel anything for Dwayne, but finds it impossible to ignore the hopes and dreams she once had of herself, Dwayne, and the baby living a wonderful life together. 

“They lay down in bed in the dark and could not sleep but lay awake across the hall from each other, thinking about her, and felt how the house was changed now, how it seemed all of a sudden so lonesome and empty.” 

Juxtaposed against Victoria’s inner conflict are the McPheron brothers and their “lonesome and empty” (175) feelings. Given their initial reluctance to take Victoria into their home, this sudden jolt of emotion when she disappears speaks to the strong emotional bond they have formed with her in such a small space of time. Victoria’s departure comes shortly after they all shopped for a crib together—a breakthrough in the relationship, a moment of unity and understanding. After growing accustomed to having her around the house, her sudden departure is something akin to an insult. Raymond and Harold stay up all night trying to give voice to their sudden loneliness. 

“She was so out of place and so lonely she couldn’t care for a while, she wanted something like everybody else did, and in time she ended up losing herself to the music and the crowd-feeling, and danced and danced, holding herself under her stomach, supporting the baby while she twirled around the room.” 

The consequences of Victoria’s decision are quick to materialize. Though Victoria has endured periods of loneliness before, her trip to Denver shows her that she can feel lonely in a crowded room. Faced with this abject feeling, she begins to let herself go. The construction of the sentence implies the causal nature of the feeling of loneliness and the dropping of her inhibitions. The repeated use of the word ‘and’ following a comma links the images to one another. The feeling of loneliness leads to the music which leads to the dancing which leads to Victoria having to support the baby still inside of her. Slowly, she appears to lose control as the nature of the situation takes over. As evidenced in the remainder of the chapter, Victoria comes to regret this decision and spends a great deal of time worrying about the further consequences of her decisions. Victoria is no longer alone in facing the consequences. Now, she must also think about “supporting the baby” (181). 

“Sitting on the fence, watching it, the boys began to understand that Elko was dead.” 

Over the course of the novel, Bobby and Ike have come face-to-face with an increasingly adult world. In this chapter, they awake to discover that one of their horses is sick. Guthrie tries to shield them from the true nature of the matter, telling the boys to go on their paper route. The problem is bad enough that, when they return, the vet is still attempting to help Elko. The boys insist on watching and, in that moment, Guthrie begins to realize that his boys have been forced to grow up much quicker than he might have expected. They sit on the fence and watch. They “began to understand that Elko was dead” (190); this moment is an analogy for the slow process of understanding their mother’s depression and the state of their parents’ marriage. The boys lose part of their innocence and move into a new world as more mature (though still very young) people. 

“Because you’re different than everybody else, he said. You don’t seem to ever get defeated or scared by life. You stay clear in yourself, no matter what.” 

Throughout the novel, Guthrie has trouble communicating. His relationship with Maggie helps him realize the benefits of giving voice to his feelings and communicating exactly what he wants. Compared to his discussion with Judy, which was mostly about one another’s physical qualities, he is able to tell Maggie why he really admires her, though it is not phrased as such. Guthrie admits, “I can’t say I know what to make of you” (199), though his analysis of Maggie’s character is very positive. Guthrie admires Maggie’s self-confidence; once he communicates this to Maggie, he is rewarded by the furthering of their relationship. 

“They seemed to have gone straight into the problems and middle years of marriage, missing, passing the honeymoon, the fun and youthful times.” 

This quote emphasizes Victoria’s romanticized idea of marriage. Victoria’s own family is unsupportive, fractured, and not a good model for future relationships. After moving out of her home, Victoria has stayed with Maggie and the McPherons, none of whom are married. Because of this, she imagines that marriage has an enjoyable beginning followed by a regrettable middle and terminal ending. She perceives that the only enjoyable part of a marriage is the early “fun and youthful stages” which she draws from television, media, and—perhaps—her parents’ own experiences. However, when it comes to Dwayne, she has nothing but the misery of the twilight years of marriage. 

“No. I leave that for you to do.” 

Victoria travels back to Holt on a bus and meets Maggie. They drive together out to the McPherons’ farm and discuss what awaits them when they meet the brothers. The obvious point of comparison for this chapter is the earlier drive to the farm that Maggie arranged. This time, however, there is a difference: Maggie has not forewarned the brothers, and she is determined that Victoria will have to do at least some of the talking. The final words in the chapter are “I leave that for you to do” (207), highlighting the importance that it is Victoria herself reclaiming an element of agency in this process. Maggie is encouraging her to communicate and to voice her opinion and desires. Victoria’s success is a credit to Maggie’s teaching and to Victoria’s growth as a character. 

“At last the boy turned to him. His face appeared desperate, pent-up, as though it would burst. Leave us alone, he cried. You have to leave us alone.” 

Though Bobby and Ike have spent a large part of the novel coming to terms with their responsibility and growing mature beyond their years, the incident with Russell reminds the reader that they are still essentially children. They have been humiliated and tortured, forced to walk home without most of their clothes along dark roads in perpetual fear that their tormenters might return. When they finally arrive home, they have so much pent-up shame, frustration, and anger that they take it out on their father. There is an element of dramatic irony at play in this quote, as the boys do not know about the fractious relationship between Guthrie and the Beckman family. Instead, they are projecting on to the situation their own experiences of watching the teenagers have sex. Their shame partly stems from the sense that they have been caught doing something immoral and have been punished. The “desperate, pent-up” anger partially derives from the nature of the situation, but also the boys’ experiences looking through the window of the abandoned house. Though they have been through a great deal, Bobby and Ike are still children and, like children, they still make incorrect assumptions about the state of the world around them. 

“I am wrought up, Raymond said, and I’m going to stay that way till this baby is born good and healthy and that girl is okay. Now you tell us what you told her.” 

Previously in the text, the McPheron brothers radiated an air of silent expertise, especially when handling matters on their farm. Their years of experience and hours spent reading all sorts of manuals meant that they were experts in their field. However, as has increasingly become the case since the introduction of Victoria, they are now out of their depth. Because of this, they abuse the socially-accepted rules of the doctor’s office and storm past the reception desk. Acting as comically overprotective parents, they demand to know whether there is anything amiss about Victoria’s pregnancy. As Raymond confesses, they are “wrought up” (227). This sense of helplessness and fear is palpable and stands in stark contrast to their behavior when dealing with any kind of cattle-related issue. The McPherons’ sudden panic demonstrates Victoria’s effect on their lives and the extent to which they have come to care about her.