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54 pages 1 hour read

Robin Benway

Far From the Tree

Fiction | Novel | YA | Published in 2017

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Symbols & Motifs

Alice in Wonderland

Over the course of the novel, Grace, Maya, and Joaquin all draw allusions to the story Alice in Wonderland, particularly during instances of high stress or confusion. The popular fairy tale follows a young girl as she explores a strange world of riddles and reality-bending situations, and Alice’s adventure becomes overwhelming and even frightening. The story is often interpreted as an allegory for the loss of order and structure, and the small child thrust into the upside-down world of Wonderland points towards the chaos and confusion associated with growing up and leaving childhood behind to deal with adult problems.

Maya remembers watching Alice in Wonderland when she was a little girl, and at the time, she “loved the idea of falling down a rabbit hole, of plummeting into something that she wasn’t expecting” (16), and exploring the world of Wonderland. Maya’s favorite scene in the 1951 Disney film is when Alice grows so big that she can’t fit in a house anymore, and the walls of the house leap up and out of the way. However, as a teenager, Maya listens as her parents fight every night, and now “the walls on her house [feel] too small and she wishe[s] she could smash the glass windows and escape,” and “the idea of a house blowing apart didn’t seem so funny” (16). The idea of a house “blowing apart” becomes a metaphor for her parents’ imminent divorce, and as Maya craves stability and safety, her favorite childhood movie becomes a painful reminder of what could happen to her family.

As Grace desperately tries to uncover any clues about the identity or whereabouts of her birth mother, she finds herself feeling like Alice when “Alice became too small and fell inside a bottle that was washed out to sea, carried away on a current that she couldn’t control, too small to see past the waves in front of her” (234). Grace feels powerless, unable to control the circumstances that have led her to this point, and as she attempts to find her birth mother in a sea of information, she feels “too insignificant to make a difference” (234). The search is overwhelming, and with no one willing to help her on her journey, Grace feels isolated, just like Alice trapped in a glass bottle.

Joaquin thinks about how he has spent “a literal lifetime in the system, being promised things that were always just out of reach” (283). After so many years of disappointment, Joaquin doesn’t want to continue to “[chase] the white rabbit down the hole” (283). Alice’s famous pursuit of the white rabbit represents a fruitless endeavor, a pointless waste of time that ultimately leads to nowhere. Joaquin likens his search for a family to this iconic chase, and he believes that if he continues to hold out for hope and give adoption another try with Mark and Linda, he will find himself thrown into a world of pain and confusion yet again. The white rabbit may represent what Joaquin wants—home and family—but he doesn’t want to be like Alice, who foolishly chased the rabbit for no apparent reason and ultimately failed.

Maya’s Mom’s Wine Bottles

From the outside looking in, Maya’s family is picture-perfect. They live in a beautiful house and put on a good show when people visit. Her father wears a suit to dinner with Grace’s family, and her mom is the very image of a courteous host. However, behind closed doors, alcoholism is ripping Maya’s family apart. The wine bottles that Maya and Lauren find hidden around the house represent the dark family secrets lurking around every corner of the house and the intense cycle of addiction affecting the whole family.

Maya credits her parents’ frequent fighting to her mother’s drinking problem. Although they have been fighting for years, Maya believes that “a lot of those angry words [have] to do with the wine: a glass before dinner, two or three during dinner, and a fifth sloshed into the glass when Maya’s dad was away on business” (17). Maya’s mom drinks more when her dad isn’t around, and when Maya and Lauren start to find their mom’s wine bottles stashed around the house, Maya wonders “who her mom was hiding the evidence from: her daughters, her husband, or herself” (18).

Maya bears the burden of this family secret more than anyone else. She doesn’t tell her dad and tries to protect Lauren from the truth of what is happening to her mom, but soon the situation is outside anyone’s control. Maya worries not only about keeping her mom and sister safe but also about hiding the family secret. Maya becomes angry when Lauren tells Claire about their mom going to rehab. After all,

she had spent so long operating under the idea that secrets never left their house that she didn’t know how to handle it when any of them escaped, except to make her walls closer, tighter, hugging her in so that no one else would ever be able to enter (275).

The dysfunction of Maya’s family shows that adoption is not the end of someone’s troubles. Plenty of families, including adoptive families, are broken and imperfect, plagued with arguments, addiction, and abuse. The wine bottles symbolize the throes of addiction, and even when they are removed from the house, the impact of their time in the house lingers for a long time and will take years of rehab and therapy to undo.

Photographs and Family Portraits

Families and photographs go hand-in-hand, and in Far from the Tree, photos are used to represent familial bonds and belonging (or lack thereof). Having a photograph of a person can symbolize a close relationship, or a deep sense of respect and admiration for the person. While photographs are meant to memorialize happy times or momentous occasions, both Maya and Joaquin express anxiety over the topic of family photos.

Maya’s house is lined with photos of her, Lauren, and their parents throughout the years. However, Maya is “the only one who [stands] out, the only one who [isn’t] pale with freckles and amber-colored red hair, the only dark brunette stain in every single family photo that line[s] the stairs” (21). This glaring difference isn’t merely a product of Maya’s imagination: Both Grace and Joaquin notice the horrible effect when they visit Maya’s house. Grace looks at the photos and sees that “Maya [stands] out in every single photo, the one brunette in a family of redheads, her smile getting less and less full over the years” (47). Joaquin is disturbed by the family photos that show “the short brunette in a sea of tall redheads” (209) because Maya sticks out so obviously. Maya hates the pictures and even fantasizes about burning them. In her bedroom, however, Maya proudly displays photos of her and Claire, but Grace notices that Maya has no photos of her family in her bedroom. Maya doesn’t need any more reminders that she “doesn’t belong,” especially not in her safe space, and the presence of Claire’s photos reinforces the idea that Maya sees Claire as her family and her home. With Claire, Maya doesn’t feel like an outsider, so these photos are a comfort instead of an ugly reminder of her “otherness.”

On the opposite side, Joaquin is self-conscious about his lack of family photos. When he and Birdie are dating, Joaquin watches as Birdie’s parents take out photo albums and show him “every baby photo, every first day of school, every Christmas morning, every Halloween” (83) throughout Birdie’s life. He realizes that, unlike Birdie, “There [is] no one to tell her about him, no one to share embarrassing stories about him that Birdie would love, or show her baby pictures of him” (83). Joaquin believes that photos represent the map of a person’s life, and without photos, he has no past and, ultimately, no future. However, everything changes when Joaquin meets his aunt Jessica. Jessica tells him that his mother’s parents were so angry when she got pregnant with Joaquin that they “burned all of the pictures of her” (342) in an attempt to erase their daughter from their lives. Joaquin then discovers that his mother left him an entire box full of photos of him, and for the first time, Joaquin sees pictures of himself as a child. One photo shows “a newborn in the hospital, red and wrinkled like a raisin” (352), and there is “another of him sitting in a playpen, grinning up at the camera” (352). Most importantly, Joaquin sees a photo of his mother holding him and realizes he has more of a past than he ever thought. Joaquin treasures the photos because they prove that his mother cared about him enough to hold on to pictures of him.

Sailing and the Ocean

Throughout Far from the Tree, Benway utilizes figurative language to compare the ocean, sailing, and drowning to the emotional journeys of the three main characters. The ocean is vast and unyielding, and those who are unprepared to face its brutality are often lost at sea. In Far from the Tree, the ocean represents the vastness of the world itself and the uncertainty of the future, and in order to survive the storms of life, the characters must learn to rely on their friends and families.

When Grace gives Peach up for adoption and watches her leave with her new parents, Grace feels like she is “untethered, floating away” (10), and Grace decides to go looking for someone to be tethered to once again. This pressing need to feel connected to someone, tethered to something real and stable, prompts Grace to begin the search for her birth mother. In the process, she finds her siblings, and when Joaquin meets Grace, her eyes remind him of the eyes of a few foster kids, “the ones who had been transferred so many times that they were rudderless, adrift in the storm” (223-24). Joaquin can sense Grace’s struggle to find solid ground on the seas of life, and he is keenly aware of this feeling himself.

When Joaquin sees Birdie’s family photos, he thinks of them as Birdie’s “map” throughout life, and without his own photos, Joaquin says that he is “rudderless” and he will “only lead [Birdie] astray” (84). Without a rudder, Joaquin lacks any sense of direction necessary for navigation. He cannot steer his own life but is at the mercy of the wind and waves that come his way. Joaquin later dreams that his sisters are “standing on the edge of the ocean, calling for him,” but “his feet [are] stuck to the ground, and he [can] only watch as they [are] washed out to sea” (133). Joaquin can see his sisters being dragged out into the deep water, and as their older brother, he feels like he is supposed to protect them from winding up as aimless and lost as he is. Joaquin is immobilized by his feelings of inadequacy, and he will not allow himself to move toward others and seek a personal connection with the people he loves.

When Joaquin finally opens up to Grace and Maya about what happened with the Buchanans, he feels like “he [is] going underwater,” about to drown, with “his sisters the only thing buoying him” (261). Joaquin has fallen overboard, lost in the sadness and despair of his past, but his sisters are there to love and support him. Joaquin no longer feels untethered: He is connected to people who love him, and they refuse to let him battle the storms at sea by himself anymore.

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