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60 pages 2 hours read

Julia Bartz

The Writing Retreat

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2023

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Character Analysis

Alex

Content Warning: This section explores violent, abusive, sexual, and occult subject matter.

Alex is the novel’s protagonist and first-person narrator. A 30-year-old aspiring writer, Alex hungers for recognition and connection: She has always felt like an outsider and she has been especially lonely since the breakdown of her friendship with Wren. Alex is not, however, always a reliable narrator. For example, her feelings for Wren alternate between anger—the first line of the novel is an expression of dismissal beginning with an expletive—sadness, nostalgia, and confusion. It also becomes clear that Alex’s description of their friendship’s demise does not conform exactly to the objective truth. Alex’s experiences at the writing retreat are likewise colored by strong emotion: She fears that Wren might expose her, continues to idealize Roza despite Roza’s destructive behavior, and exaggerates Blackbriar’s Gothic elements. These elements of instability help Bartz create a complex coming-of-age story with an unreliable narrator. By its end, Alex achieves emotional stability, a concrete sense of self, and hard-won professional success.

At first, though, Alex agonizes over her inability to fit in. She is dogged by feelings of isolation from youth. Raised by a single mother, Alex moves often during her school years and takes refuge in books—Roza’s books in particular. It is unsurprising, then, that Alex decides to try her hand at writing. When she meets the other women at the retreat (Wren excepted), she sighs in relief, “It just felt so nice to belong” (45). This feeling is short-lived, however, as Roza strives to pit the women against one another: first by making the writing retreat a competition, later by stoking suspicions between the writers. When Alex realizes that writer’s block continues to stymie her ideas, her feelings of belonging quickly dissipate. Compared to the other writers, she confesses, “I was the outlier, the little trail of the comet, flying off into oblivion” (78). When she flounders during the ghost-story competition and returns from the basement, she imagines the others are looking at her “displeased, like I was a raccoon who’d wandered into the house” (121). Alex’s self-confidence is contingent on how others see her—or, more precisely, on how she thinks others see her.

Fittingly, Roza gifts Alex the necklace with the spider pendant. On the one hand, the spider symbolizes fear and elicits a recoil response from most humans. When Alex discusses her mother, who is now remarried with a new family, she recalls that her mother views her “like a gnarly spider that had appeared on the wall” (133). She feels neglected and rejected by her own mother and, eventually, by Wren. On the other hand, the spider is culturally revered for its ability to weave extraordinary webs. Alex is strong and resilient like the spider, although her “web” is spun from stories. Roza describes the spider as a representation of “[r]esourcefulness” (63).

Alex becomes remarkably resourceful during the course of events. She comes to terms with her feelings for Wren, as well as her feelings about sexuality in general. She accepts that she harbors sexual attraction for women. She acknowledges that she might have been unable “to imagine sex with women simply because [she] hadn’t experienced it before” (127). After her experiences with Wren and “Lamia”/Taylor at the retreat, Alex comes to embrace her desire for sexual intimacy with women. In a linked development, she also becomes more confident in herself and her writing. She exhibits bravery and loyalty during the final tragic events of the retreat. She knows that the work she has done there is good, and the accuracy of this self-assessment is confirmed by its later publication. She grabs hold of her personal power as a survivor and learns to trust herself. Alex reclaims herself: “I wasn’t some broken thing. Despite the lingering aftereffects, I was stronger than they’d ever know” (301). As she readjusts to her new life and revels in her book’s success, she thrills at the possibilities for her romantic future, “clicking Everyone when it asked what gender I was looking for” (307). Her embrace of her fluid sexual preferences coincides with finding her voice as a writer. Alex’s external resourcefulness mirrors the fullness of her inner emotional and imaginative resources.

Wren

Wren is both Alex’s ally and her antagonist, her opposite and her doppelganger. Where Alex is insecure, Wren is preternaturally confident. Where Alex expresses her emotions with messy force, Wren remains tightly controlled. When they first meet, Alex looks to Wren as the solution to her social problems: “That first morning with Wren, I’d known—instantly—what becoming friends meant: secret dance parties in abandoned warehouses, madcap dates ending in kisses in forlorn alleys, boozy brunches laughing over the night before” (6). In short, Wren embodies the media-fueled fantasies of what life for young women in the big city is supposed to look like, tinged with the promise of queer sexuality for Alex in their “kisses in forlorn alleys.”

Wren herself is not as composed as she appears. Her job as a beauty influencer has, of necessity, a short shelf life. Her fiancé ends their engagement. She turns out to be as confused about her relationship with Alex as Alex herself has been. Yet when Alex sees Wren at the retreat, what Alex first notices reflects her personal insecurities, not Wren’s objective reality: “she looked the same as she had a year ago, when we’d been living together,” says Alex, “Or maybe even younger, as if she’d been siphoning my life force, using it to plump her cheeks while I grew more listless and depressed” (55). Here, Wren appears as a Gothic vampiric force or a succubus, feeding off Alex’s waning energy. As the novel progresses, however, Wren falls apart while Alex gains strength. Wren does not liberate Alex (or Alex’s social life); rather, Alex is the one who liberates Wren. Alex is not the “damsel in distress” in this story, but the knight returning to rescue a fainted maiden.

At the end of the novel, Alex is on a book tour, while Wren is awaiting an unspecified new chance at happiness. The two have decided to move past their differences and their friendship. As Alex puts it, “It had taken a literal massacre, but Wren and I were officially over” (304). In this way, Wren’s presence reinforces a central thematic concern of the novel: the need to come to terms with how one’s professional and personal identities are interlinked.

Roza Vallo

Roza deliberately cultivates a mysterious and even supernatural persona to inflame her cultlike following. “People think I’m a witch,” she tells the interviewer in the article that Alex rereads at the book’s beginning (15). She also capitalizes on her Hungarian background and her family’s persecution under the Soviets. Her horror-thriller-style books are sexually graphic and transgressive to the point that they are censored in various places. This only adds to her infamous cultural reputation. Thanks to Roza’s near-mythical status, she enjoys a life of luxury at Blackbriar, her supposedly haunted estate.

Alex is smitten with Roza’s work, not to mention her personal legend. It becomes clear as the writing retreat begins, though, that the real Roza has little in common with her public persona. In the first place, Roza is ruthless and cruel. During the first retreat dinner, Roza excoriates Alex for not wearing the gold necklace she had given her, telling Alex to leave immediately. Alex is stunned by Roza’s ferocious response to this perceived offense: “She stared […] at me, her green eyes blazing. I wanted to crawl under the table or flee upstairs to my room, where I could lock out whatever this brutal punishment was” (61). In fact, public humiliation is common for Roza’s retreat writers. Not only are they forced to compete with and critique each other, as well as to bear Roza’s own withering creative assessments, but later, they are forced to endure her threats of imprisonment and death. Roza’s behavior is so consistently appalling that it compels Alex to realize that she has had a lifelong infatuation with an imaginary “Roza.”

The text exposes the depth of Roza’s artistic hypocrisy as it shows her to have been successful only because she appropriated other writers’ works. To attain fame and fortune, she guiltlessly manipulates and murders more talented women. The novel foreshadows this when Roza denounces another writer for stealing his girlfriend’s work. Tellingly, Roza’s criticism has nothing to do with the moral violation and professional harm he caused another person: “If you’re going to do stupid shit, do it well,” Alex recalls her saying, continuing, “Don’t be lazy enough to get caught so easily” (31). In other words, his crime is not in his thievery; rather, it is in the ineptness of his theft. Roza herself would never be so sloppy—or so she thinks.

For her part, Alex recognizes that “Roza Vallo wasn’t nice,” but rationalizes “that’s how she’d gotten to where she was. Maybe I could learn something from her” (62). Alex has a dangerous blind spot where her mentor is concerned. Even after she witnesses Roza’s artistic dishonesty and learns of her extended career as an executioner of talented writers, Alex cannot relinquish her fantasy of Roza: “I imagined us boarding a plane together, seating ourselves in first class. Roza would smile at me and squeeze my hand” (298). Roza—as “Roza Vallo,” famed international author of mystery—represents all of Alex’s childhood desires, including approval from an older maternal figure. Her guiding light still shines upon Alex’s keyboard.

Notably, Roza Vallo is the only character in this novel who merits a surname. This indicates her outsized status above the other characters—renowned author, wealthy benefactor—and illustrates how the young female writers lack full social acknowledgement. They must be published (and interviewed, reviewed, and toured) to warrant the status of a surname. Alex’s claim that she will be a writer even if her works are never published is undercut by the hypocritical presence of the Vallo surname, held by someone who does not pen her own works. In the cultural milieu of this story, fame is more important than talent.

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