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Nikki ErlickA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
The most prominent example of this motif is the correspondence between Ben and Amie. The anonymity of the letters allows Ben and Amie to be honest and authentic, and the letters thus serve as an opportunity to probe the larger philosophical issues at stake with the appearance of the strings. As Ben is a short-stringer, and Amie hasn’t opened her box, they offer an interesting intersection of perspectives that Nikki Erlick uses to her full advantage.
However, letters also appear in a few other important contexts. In his first letter, Ben writes of a letter in a World War II museum, and a soldier’s message to a woman named Gertrude: “No matter what happens, I still feel the same” (57). Amie and Ben debate the meaning of this cryptic message in their correspondence together until, later in the novel, Amie tracks down the origins of the letter. The letter to Gertrude highlights the uncertainty the soldier faced, and his determination that his feelings would remain the same. This connects to Amie and Ben’s struggle, in which they know that Ben only has about 14 years to live.
The other important letter that appears in the novel is Javier’s letter to his parents. In it, he confesses his short-string status and the scheme to switch with a long-stringer so that he could have his military career. Beyond offering the truth to his parents, this letter becomes the proof that Jack needs to explain what they perpetrated. It highlights Javier’s commitment to the military, and his desire to contribute to society in this way—in essence, what made him a great soldier who never would have gotten the chance to be one because of short-string discrimination. The letter, once published, becomes the impetus for ending the STAR Initiative, and begins the demise of Anthony Rollins’s political career.
“Que Sera, Sera” is a song originally performed by Doris Day in the 1955 Alfred Hitchcock film The Man Who Knew Too Much. This motif first appears in the text when, in a letter to Amie, Ben describes having twice seen a man on a bicycle playing that song as he rode through the city. Ben is comforted by the song’s connection to his grandmother, but also feels a sense of relief around this playful, almost magical figure. That relief, and moment of lightness, will be repeated each time the man appears.
The next time the man appears, it is to Amie, as she is sitting on the curb, terrified by the thought of loving and losing Ben. When she sees the bicyclist, however, it reminds her: “Whatever will be, will be / The future’s not ours to see” (293). The message of the song, combined with the serendipity of seeing the bicyclist that Ben had told her about, makes Amie’s path clear to her. Later, when she is on her way to meet him in Central Park, “she heard the melody play in her head, the song that had brought them together. Whatever will be, will be. Some things we just can’t control, she thought” (317). This scene is a major turning point for Amie, as she leaves the Van Woolsey and lets go of what she had envisioned for her future.
Even Anthony and Katherine see the man on the bicycle, and the way they react, stopping to dance, shows a brief slice of humanity from these characters who are otherwise the antagonists of the novel. This man reminds the characters that, although the world is overwhelming, and New York can feel cold and unfriendly, there is optimism and connection.
The novel closes with this image, along the edge of Nina’s final scene at the park:
[A] man on a bicycle pedaled on, with a stereo strapped to his back. His legs labored more than they used to, the wheels turned a little more slowly. But the melody played as clearly as ever, and all the people walking around him, busy and distracted as always, paused for a second and turned their heads, trying to see where the music was coming from (348).
A year later, the strings have taken their toll on everyone, including this man, but he is still spreading his message, and people are still responding, and feeling that connection.
In a letter to Ben, Amie talks about the Van Woolsey, a building in her neighborhood: “Like Buckingham Palace on the Upper West Side. From the sidewalk, you can peek between the bars of the front gate and see the center courtyard, a mini park with perfectly trimmed hedges and white stone benches surrounding a tiered fountain” (157). The Van Woolsey symbolizes Amie’s fantasy future, in which, “That version of [her]self who lives in the Van Woolsey has everything settled on the inside, too. She looks at her life and simply feels satisfied. She doesn’t need to spend time on fantasies anymore because she’s already living in one” (158). This building connects to Amie’s personal journey throughout the novel, as she lets go of her fantasies and expectations, and embraces the life and love she has found. At the beginning, the Van Woolsey symbolizes all of her dreams for her future. By the end of the novel, however, Amie sees the Van Woolsey in a very different light.
When Amie sees the building for the last time, she finds herself there by accident. She is on her way to meet Ben in Central Park, where Ben is going to propose. She is fully happy with her life, and has moved from fantasy into reality. This last sight of the building gives her a chance to say goodbye to that dream: “And as she stared at the Van Woolsey, the truth washed over Amie. She would never live there now” (316). After exploring her feelings, however, she realizes that her hopes for the future have changed: “She turned away from the building, from the dream that she wasn’t meant to live, while her mind filled instead with new reveries” (317).