31 pages • 1 hour read
John CheeverA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Content Warning: This section alludes to rape, as well as domestic violence and alcohol addiction.
From the moment in which a plane crash upends Francis’s orderly existence, the story critiques the conformity and artificiality of suburban life. The Weeds’ home is beautiful but generic, lacking any imperfections that would render it distinctive. Likewise, as Francis grows increasingly disenchanted with his life in Shady Hill, he reflects on how bland his neighbors truly are: “[M]any of them, also, were bores and fools, and he had made the mistake of listening to them all with equal attention” (42). Here, the problem of conformity is twofold: The apparent homogeneity of suburban life weakens Francis’s ability to perceive any differences that do exist, rendering existence all the more uniform.
The story’s critique of suburban life most strongly intersects with its examination of Francis and Julia’s marriage. This is no accident: The 1950s idealization of suburban life was inseparable from its promotion of the nuclear family as the norm to which everyone should aspire. Throughout the story, Francis’s wife, Julia, represents the conformity that Francis chafes against. She refuses to acknowledge the profundity of the plane crash, concerns herself primarily with social functions, and works hard to establish the family’s facade of happiness. Indeed, as the stereotypical suburban wife and mother, her primary job is to ensure the social position of the family, and she takes the job extremely seriously. Francis, however, no longer cares about their social position in the wake of his existential crisis, believing it to be meaningless. The simmering conflict between their two points of view comes to a head after Francis insults Mrs. Wrightson. They have an ugly fight in which Francis strikes Julia, and Julia threatens to leave him. When Francis pleads with her, however, Julia quickly changes her mind. The sudden return to the status quo after their intense conflict shows how entrenched they both are in their roles. The demands of suburban conformity have imprisoned them both in a union that often leaves them feeling unfulfilled and unheard, yet they struggle to imagine a different reality and break free from its confines. This is made explicit when Francis, pondering the possibility of running away with Anne, realizes just how far beyond the norm such an action would be: “Looking back over the recent history of Shady Hill for some precedent, he found there was none. There was no turpitude; there had not been a divorce since he lived there; there had not even been a breath of scandal” (43).
However, there are happy couplings in Shady Hill, which shows that authentic connections—and authenticity broadly—are possible in suburbia. The host and hostess of a party that Julia and Francis attend speak in vivid terms about their enduring love, with the host saying his wife makes him feel like he’s “Hannibal crossing the Alps” (44). While this could be performance, a second couple, the Babcocks, reveal their feelings for another in the private setting of their backyard, where they chase each other naked. These brief images of romance contrast starkly with the Weed marriage and suggest that the erosion of respect, passion, and individuality that Francis and Julia have experienced are not necessarily inevitable outcomes of their environment. While conformist environments do impact social dynamics and set the parameters of the all-American “pursuit of happiness,” the definition of such happiness is fluid, and the complexity of individual human psyches will endure no matter their environment.
The story explores the layered ways in which fantasy functions within the confines of American suburbia. In the most overt example, Cheever shows how Francis’s infatuation with Anne serves as escapism from his mundane existence. He indulges in elaborate fantasies of a passionate relationship with her that provide a temporary reprieve from the reality of his responsibilities and the constraints of his life. He imagines them living together in Paris, sailing around the world, and sneaking away to make love in Shady Hill. Soon, the stark contrast between his fantasy life and reality—referred to by Francis as an “abyss”—agitates him to such a degree that he can no longer perform his role as a dutiful husband, father, and Shady Hill resident.
His fantasies are so powerful that on two occasions, they potentially veer into the realm of hallucination. In the first instance, he is waiting on a train platform when he sees a beautiful naked woman sitting in a bedroom car in an oncoming train, combing her hair. He watches her until she’s out of sight. It’s ambiguous whether or not this woman exists; she is described as “an apparition” (42). Perhaps she’s part of Shady Hill’s reality, or perhaps Francis is so invigorated by his fantasies of Anne that he imagines beauty and possibility lurking around every corner.
In the second instance, Francis believes he sees Anne on his morning train to work and follows her down the aisles, calling her name. When he realizes it’s simply an older woman wearing glasses and not in fact Anne, it sparks him to reconsider his belief in himself and his choices, “for if he [can’t] tell one person from another, what evidence [is] there that his life with Julia and the children [has] as much reality as his dreams of iniquity in Paris or the litter, the grass smell, and the cave-shaped trees in Lovers’ Lane” (46). This thought suggests that Francis is having a difficult time discerning what is actually real or authentic in his life. His family life is built on a foundation of lies and repressed truths, such that his fantasy life becomes more real by virtue of representing his true desires.
Indeed, Shady Hill itself is built on the fantasy that polite chit-chat, parties, and traditional familial structures are the only reality and what matter most in life. It doesn’t acknowledge the fact of war, fatherless sons, or dissatisfied residents. If the story explores the ways in which fantasies can alienate people from their realities, it therefore also shows how those realities are in fact built on fantasies of their own. The story seems to suggest that searching for authenticity amidst such shaky ground is difficult, if not impossible.
Ultimately, Francis Weed abandons any hope of escaping his suburban life and family and instead finds solace in a new hobby: woodworking. He loves the “holy smell of new wood” (48), a religiously tinged phrase that suggests the hobby provides some sort of balm for his spirit and that the ability to form something tangible out of raw material feels more fulfilling, authentic, transcendent, and ultimately “real” than his intoxicating fantasies of Anne did. Via Francis’s journey from discontent to acceptance, the story explores what it means to change and whether doing so is possible within the confines of suburbia.
After undermining Clayton’s job prospects due to his jealousy over Anne, Francis realizes that his feelings for her have begun to cloud his judgment. He considers the options available to him: seeing a psychiatrist, going to Church, raping Anne, or getting drunk, among others. After briefly wondering what the “harm” could be in a “tryst,” he decides to see a psychiatrist. Something stops him from making a choice that could truly unravel his life and cause harm to those around him, and he acknowledges the inevitability of his current circumstances: “[T]hinking back over the plane crash, the Farquarsons’ new maid, and Anne Murchison’s difficulties with her drunken father, he wondered how he could have avoided arriving at just where he was” (47). The key to his personal development and redemption lies in both his acceptance of the ways in which traumatic moments have impacted him and in his realization that he has the power to decide how he chooses to deal with them.
The ending panorama of Shady Hill residents is remarkably similar to the scene in which Francis contemplates the plane crash in the garden: Gertrude is intruding, Jupiter is causing mischief, and Mr. Nixon is yelling at squirrels. The status quo endures, but Francis’s relationship to it has changed. The subtle point-of-view shift provides a clue to this altered mindset. Readers initially saw everyone through Francis’s perspective as he took in the sights and sounds of the neighborhood, but in the ending scene, the narration is more omniscient. Francis is in the basement, focused on his coffee table, and thus not privy to the happenings in the rest of Shady Hill. Francis is no longer focused on the monotony of his environment but on what he can create among it. While Francis didn’t necessarily alter his personality or circumstances, he altered how he understood them, thus showing how change can happen within the repressive stasis of the suburbs.
By John Cheever