The Loved One

“They are a very decent generous lot of people out here and they don’t expect you to listen. Always remember that, dear boy. It’s the secret of social ease in this country. They talk entirely for their own pleasure. Nothing they say is designed to be heard.”

Sir Francis’s condescending compliment of Americans reveals his British upper-class snobbery. He's basically saying that his American hosts are talkative but say nothing worthy of his listening. It’s obvious here—and elsewhere in the early chapters—that Sir Francis views his own opinions as superior.

“His swimming-pool which had once flashed like an aquarium with the limbs of long-departed beauties was empty now and cracked and over-grown with weed.”

Waugh uses the image of a swimming pool, which usually connotes luxury and prosperity, to instead symbolize Sir Francis’s decline. The sentence leading up to the pool description reveals that Sir Francis “had descended to the Publicity Department” (6) at the movie studio. Waugh uses the weed image earlier in the chapter, too, when he refers to “the plot of weeds between the verandah and the dry water-hole” (3). Weeds typically symbolize neglect or disorder.

“We are only making healthy films this year to please the League of Decency. So poor Juanita has to start at the beginning again as an Irish colleen. They’ve bleached her hair and dyed it vermilion. […] She’s working ten hours a day learning the brogue and to make it harder for the poor girl they’ve pulled all her teeth out. […] Now she’ll have to laugh roguishly all the time.”

Ironically, Sir Francis starts out referring to “healthy films” (7) and then immediately gives an example of the unhealthy, outrageous situations that the studio forces on young actresses. Juanita obviously has no choice but to go along with this brutal remake if she wants the part.

“He had seen the rooms filled and refilled, the name-plates change on the doors. He had seen arrivals and departures, Mr. Erikson and Mr. Baumbein coming, others, whose names now escaped him, going. He remembered poor Leo who had fallen from great heights to die with his bill unpaid in the Garden of Allah Hotel.”

In this scene, which follows Sir Francis’s abrupt and callous firing, he recalls the job turnover he has witnessed at Megalopolitan Pictures. In remembering “poor Leo” (27), a former colleague who fell “from great heights” and died penniless at a hotel, Sir Francis envisions his own bleak future as a Hollywood has-been. Apparently, the thought of reaching rock bottom convinces him to die by suicide.

“Turf does not prosper in southern California and the Hollywood ground did not permit the larger refinements of cricket.”

The paragraph that reveals Sir Francis’s suicide begins with one of several setting images that evoke death—in this case, dead turf. One may interpret the subtext of the passage as hinting at the British-American rift, suggesting that California lacks the refinement for something as British as cricket.

“I’ve spent half the morning clearing junk out of this room. Piles of stuff, just like someone had been living here—bottles of medicine, books, photographs, kids’ games. Seems it belonged to some old Brtisher who’s just kicked off.”

This quote from the man who replaces Sir Francis at the movie studio illustrates the ruthless nature of the Hollywood film business, where everyone is expendable without notice regardless of the length of employment. Not only is Sir Francis not informed of his firing until after he finds a new person occupying his office, but no one even cares to preserve his personal belongings.

“Dennis was a young man of sensibility rather than of sentiment. He had lived his twenty-eight years at arm’s length from violence, but he came of a generation which enjoys a vicarious intimacy with death. Never, it so happened, had he seen a human corpse until that morning when, returning tired from night duty, he found his host strung to the rafters. The spectacle had been rude and momentarily unnerving; but his reason accepted the event as part of the established order. Others in gentler ages had had their lives changed by such a revelation; to Dennis it was the kind of thing to be expected in the world he knew […].”

This is one of several passages that refers to the lingering effects of World War II, either directly, or in this case, indirectly. At this pivotal moment in the story, upon discovering that Sir Francis has hung himself, Dennis admits that the violence in which his generation became immersed has warped his emotions. Instead of being horrified and sad, he’s “exhilarated and full of curiosity” as he drives to the funeral home.

“The two-piece lid is most popular for gentlemen Loved Ones. Only the upper part is then exposed to view […] when the Waiting Ones come to take leave” (40).”

In giving the sales pitch to Dennis, Aimée uses one of Whispering Glades’ popular euphemisms. Instead of saying, “when the Waiting Ones come to view the body,” she says they come to “take leave.” The word “body” is never used at the mortuary.

“Normally, Dennis had found, the people of the United States were slow to resent curiosity about their commercial careers.”

Much of the novel depicts Americans through the eyes of the British. In this case, Dennis Barlow evokes the stereotype of Americans obsessed with their jobs.

 “Pardon me. Aren’t you the friend of the strangulated Loved One in the Orchid Room? My memory’s very bad for live faces.”

This quote illustrates how Aimée is totally engrossed in her work. The faces of the dead stick in her mind more than those of the living, which shows her estrangement from the reality of the breathing world. She has created a kind of fantasy existence for herself that centers on her death “art.” Later in the chapter, she tells Dennis that though she lives close by, the funeral home is her “true home” (86).

“Then they took me to the embalming-rooms and there was Mrs. Komstock lying on the table in her wedding dress.”

Whispering Glades goes to great lengths to inject joy into what should be a sad and solemn occasion—in this case, dressing the deceased in the costume of probably her happiest day. Waugh aims his satire at the artificiality of this jarring juxtaposition.

“Why, it’s beautiful. It’s just what I’ve thought so often and haven’t been able to express. ‘To make it rich to die’ and ‘To cease upon the midnight with no pain.’ That’s exactly what Whispering Glades exists for, isn’t it? I think it’s wonderful to be able to write like that.”

Aimée is reacting to a poem that she thinks Dennis wrote. However, he actually adapted excerpts from John Keats’s famous poem “Ode to a Nightingale.” This passage shows her attraction to the idea of “easeful Death”—a phrase in the poem—which she apparently acquired from her job at the mortuary. Her reaction to the poem explains why she finds it so easy to take her own life at the end of the novel—and shows how Dennis misled her, making her think he wrote classic poems.

“An American man would despise himself for living on his wife.”

Aimée turns the tables on the British snobbery that Dennis and the other expatriates espouse throughout the novel. She’s reacting to Dennis’s unromantic proposal after he suggested that Aimée’s promotion to embalmer would provide them with extra money to get married.

“‘Jungle Venom’—From the depths of the fever-ridden swamp, the advertisement had stated, where juju drums throb for the human sacrifice, Jeannette’s latest exclusive creation ‘Jungle Venom’ comes to you with the remorseless stealth of the hunting cannibal.”

Aimée is so immersed in the world of the departed that even her perfume has a name that conjures images of death. She sprinkles the jungle potion on herself before going on a date with a man whom she elevated to suitor after he promoted her to embalmer.

“The cigarettes Mr. Slump smoked were prepared by doctors, so the advertisements declared, with the sole purpose of protecting his respiratory system.”

Mr. Slump is a charlatan who fancies himself a spiritual adviser but exposes himself as a complete fraud at the end of the novel. This passage is ironic because even as he defrauds his readers, a cigarette company is duping him. In fact, in the 1940s, cigarette companies, including R. J. Reynolds, ran ads for cigarettes that were supposedly “doctor approved.”

“Dog that is born of bitch hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay […].”

This overwrought eulogy, read by Rev. Errol Bartholomew at a lavish funeral for a dog, illustrates Waugh’s commentary regarding Americans’ propensity to make death like a Hollywood production. The fact that the funeral industry has no qualms about cashing in big time on death rituals for animals makes the point more poignant.

“Then there is my career. I was offered a Big Chance to improve my position and now no more is said of that.”

Aimée is referring to the embalmer promotion that Mr. Joyboy had offered her. He apparently withdrew the offer when she became engaged to Dennis. The incident reveals that Aimée has experienced sexual harassment in her workplace.

“The corpses that came to Aimée for her ministrations now grinned with triumph.”

Mr. Joyboy is creative in using his job to manipulate Aimée’s affections. Before she becomes engaged to Dennis, Mr. Joyboy sends her smiling corpses—and recommends her for a promotion to embalmer. During the brief time she’s engaged to Dennis, Mr. Joyboy sends her frowning corpses and apparently withdraws his offer to recommend her for a promotion to embalmer. Here, after Aimée breaks her engagement to Dennis and becomes engaged to Mr. Joyboy, he once again sends her smiling corpses.

“It is I who should be disillusioned when I think that I have been squandering my affections on a girl ignorant of the commonest treasures of literature.”

Dennis’s feeble defense for misleading Aimée about who wrote the poems he sent her is to point out her naivete. Waugh depicts Aimée as simple and innocent but also notes her unique “spirit” (119).

“My dear, you as an American should be the last to despise a man for starting at the bottom of the ladder.”

Dennis doesn’t share Sir Ambrose’s obsession over status. However, when Aimée criticizes him for working at a pet mortuary, he responds by taking a condescending jab at Americans.

“‘Well…what am I to do?’

‘Do? I’ll tell you what to do. Just take the elevator to the top floor. Find a nice window and jump out. That’s what you can do.’

There was a little sobbing gasp and then a quiet ‘Thank you.’”

Aimée seeks the help of spiritual advice columnist Guru Brahmin. However, she has called him at an unfortunate time, when he’s bitter after just being fired from his job, and he snaps and gives her the worst possible advice. Aimée’s father, who “lost his money to religion” (80), was apparently duped by a religious con artist or cult leader. It’s ironic that she has also been duped by this Guru Brahmin, a.k.a. Mr. Slump, an obvious charlatan who couldn’t care less about her well-being.

“It was still night; the sky was starless and below it the empty streets flamed with light.”

Waugh uses images of emptiness to foreshadow impending death. Earlier, he evoked the image of Sir Francis’s empty swimming pool. In this scene, the empty sky and bare streets symbolize the emptiness of Aimée’s life. Having realized that neither of the two men in her life will make her happy, she decides to join her “art pieces,” the painted corpses that became more familiar and comforting to her than the living.

“She indited no letter of farewell or apology. She was far removed from social custom and human obligations. The protagonists, Dennis and Mr. Joyboy, were quite forgotten. The matter was between her and the deity she served.”

Although Aimée claims to be nonreligious, her spiritual beliefs, particularly about death, clearly dominant every aspect of her being. She opts for the “easeful Death” in the John Keats poem that she so effusively praised when Dennis read it to her.