Foster

Farmwife Edna Kinsella is kind, organized, and capable, described by the narrator as liking “to cut things up, to scrub and to have things tidy, and to call things what they are” (29). This latter observation signals her affinity with the narrator who is characterized by her simple, literal view of the world. Her appearance reflects her exacting standards—tall and neatly dressed, with black hair “cut tight like a helmet” (7)—though it is later revealed that she started dyeing her hair after it went white with grief after her son’s death. This suggests that under her exterior, Edna is shielding herself from the world, reflected by the simile “like a helmet.” Even as Edna tells the girl that “there are no secrets in this house” (20), the tragedy goes unspoken, leaving it to a neighbor to reveal this history. While this omission feels like a secret to the narrator, Edna doesn’t hide the evidence of her child, nor does she hide her emotions.

There is a second contradiction in Edna’s character: Her practicality doesn’t always extend to people. As her husband explains to the narrator, “she wants to find the good in others, and sometimes her way of finding that is to trust them” (64). This tendency backfires when she agrees to let Mildred take the girl home. However, Edna’s belief in humanity makes her compassionate and thoughtful, as is seen in the gifts of rhubarb and money that she sends to the narrator’s mother as well as in her care of the narrator herself.

Throughout the novella, the narrator mostly refers to Edna as “the woman” until the final chapter in which she becomes primarily “Mrs. Kinsella.” For her part, Edna uses two endearments for the narrator in the first chapter and no more for the rest of the text, instead saying “child” or “girl.” This linguistic relationship is an important example of The Power of the Unspoken. Edna’s resistance to using individuated names reflects the emotional boundary that she tries to put up between herself and the child, coming from her knowledge that she will have to give the girl up. She at first appears more successful in this endeavor than her husband, reacting to the news that the narrator must return home with seeming equanimity. However, in the final lines, she sobs at the separation, suggesting that her character has returned to her initial grief.

John Kinsella is an able farmer and an even-tempered, generous man. His close relationship with the narrator is the emotional heart of Foster, set up in opposition to the girl’s father’s lack of care for her. Kinsella (as the narrator calls him) “has a square body” (6), which correlates to his steadiness and consistency in the girl’s life. Twice in the text, neighbors come to ask for his help with an emergency, and he goes to their aid immediately, underscoring his dependability in the community.

The first spark of connection between Kinsella and the child is when he sends her running to the mailbox as fast as possible, thus beginning a tradition. His daily timing of the girl’s speed creates structure for her and enables her to have a sense of accomplishment—both things that she has been lacking. This practice leads to Kinsella’s nickname, “Long Legs,” for the narrator, a tenderness that displays his growing attachment to her. He is physically affectionate, holding her hand and sitting her on his lap, and he encourages her mind, teaching her to read bigger words by keeping “his fingernail under each, patiently” until the girl can figure it out (74).

This method of reading instruction reflects Kinsella’s belief in The Power of the Unspoken. His tenet comes up first when Mildred asserts that the narrator is quiet, to which he responds with approval. During his walk with the girl to the beach that night, he elaborates on the merits of silence. At the end of the novella, Kinsella’s advice fuels the narrator’s decision to respect her foster parents’ privacy in the face of her biological mother’s curiosity. In addition to her calling him “Daddy,” this cements Kinsella as a nurturing figure who shapes the growth of the titular foster.

The narrator’s father is a flat, stereotypically patriarchal character often found in Irish literature. The first thing that the novella reveals about him is that he gambled away one of the family’s cows in a game of cards. Shortly thereafter, the narrator notes that he is “given to lying about things that would be nice, if they were true” (10). In the final encounter with Da, he arrives having “had a liquid supper” (82), suggesting that he has an alcohol addiction. Keegan characterizes Da to indirectly suggest negligence and abuse of his children.

Keegan establishes Da as a foil for Kinsella. Both men exemplify a version of fatherhood. Da is neglectful and, it is implied, physically violent at times, characteristics that highlight how deeply Kinsella invests in the narrator’s well-being. When Edna gives Da a gift of fresh-cut rhubarb for his wife, “it is as awkward as the baby in his arms” (14), demonstrating that the man has little interest in raising his own children. The closest that Da can come to expressing concern for his daughter is telling her, “Try not to fall into the fire, you” (15). This again contrasts with Kinsella’s care, such as his insistence that the girl needs her own clothes and his nickname of “Petal” for her. Though Foster has no clear antagonist, Da is the most negative force amongst the characters.

As the least clearly drawn character, the narrator’s mother, Mary, is, like her husband, an Irish archetype. Frequently pregnant due to the Catholic interdiction against birth control, with more children than she can fully care for and a feckless husband, Ma embodies a long-suffering Irish matriarch. “With my mother it is all work” (13), explains the narrator, suggesting that Ma runs the household on her own. As the girl considers whether her soon-to-be-born sibling will be a boy or a girl, she states plainly that she “know[s] [Ma] wants neither” (26). Through Ma, Keegan points to the real deprivations of rural life in 1980s Ireland and acknowledges that the Kinsellas are in an unusual position of relative prosperity for Irish farmers.

Ma does display fondness for her children and is the reason that the Kinsellas must return the narrator to her biological family when Da would let them keep her indefinitely. The girl has memories of her mother making pancakes and offering seconds “when she is in good humor” (4), and she recalls “the strength of [her] mother’s hands as she wove the plaits tight” (9). Sending the narrator to her relatives is evidence of Ma’s care, knowing that her daughter will benefit from a less impoverished home. At the narrator’s return, however, Ma is perturbed by the more refined behaviors that her child has learned, implying that she is sensitive to the socioeconomic status conferred on her family by financial hardship and associates the girl’s manners and clothes with oppression.