Lizzie Bright And The Buckminster Boy

“The day might come, she thought, when she would take her grandfather’s dory and row to the mouth of the New Meadows. She’d take it out past West Point, past Hermit, past Bald Head, and drift until she was alone with the whales in the open water. Then she’d come back in close and follow the coast, maybe row all the way to Portland, maybe even to Boston.

And then she’d row home. She would always come back to Malaga Island, just as sure as the tide always came back.”

This passage demonstrates Lizzie’s integration of her sense of identity with Malaga Island and the area she grew up in. Her use of landmarks such as West Point, Hermit, and Bald Head attest to her familiarity with the land and water nearby. The mention of whales foreshadows Turner’s experiences with the pod of whales in Chapters 5 and 12.

“Turner suddenly felt sick with sadness, as sick as when he had been standing on the rock ledges waiting for the sea to come crashing in on him. Mrs. Cobb was so alone, sitting in a dark room as hot as Beelzebub and waiting for Death’s dart to come so that she could say the one thing people would remember her for—knowing all the while that there would be no one there to hear it.”

Turner begins to feel sympathetic toward Mrs. Cobb, who is without family or much community contact to help her feel connected to the outside world. The word “Beelzebub” is a synonym for the Christian concept of the devil. Turner’s use of the term to reference the house’s heat is a stand-in for the concept of hell. The metaphor has hostile connotations and demonstrates Turner’s familiarity with Christian concepts because of his father’s vocation.

“It might be that a dolphin could swim faster than Lizzie through the water and a fish hawk dive faster through the air, but nothing alive could run across Malaga Island faster than Lizzie Griffin.”

Lizzie’s familiarity and ease on Malaga are demonstrated as the reader learns more about her character. The use of wildlife examples implies that like these animals, Lizzie’s natural “place” is on Malaga. This characterization increases the sense of emotional violence when she is forced to leave her home.

“He put his back to all of Phippsburg—Lord, to the entire continent—till with a shrug he sloughed off its heavy stillness and looked for a way to climb down to the water. In the end, it was more of a tumble than a climb, and he left a little skin and a little blood in one or two places—though, thankfully, not on his shirt. There was a moment when he wondered if he would be able to climb back up and find his dang collar again, but finally he was down on the beach, breathing hard and deep, like something that was only just coming alive and drinking in the liquid air for the first delicious time […] If he saw even a single soul prowling the shore, he would light out. But there were only gulls […] it was as if God had just remade the world for him, and he was Adam waking up, an entire globe to explore.”

Schmidt employs Christian imagery to help Turner express his feelings—this time, positively as Turner enjoys the pristine landscape. Schmidt compares Turner to Adam, the biblical “first man” who enjoyed the friendship of God and the resources of the world around him. The idyllic feeling is contrasted by Turner’s clumsy descent down the slope.

“If she had figured he had come for a place to breathe, she might have been more understanding—even if she had wondered about him some. If she had figured he was absolutely and completely crazy, she would have let him be. But as far as she knew, he was standing with his left leg forward on her shore, in a place where she had come to clam and breathe. It was as if he were telling her to move on.

And she had had enough of that.

If her grandfather had been there, he might have told her that a peaceable spirit was the reward of charity. But it was awfully hard to be peaceable and charitable when a whole island was about to be swept out from beneath you, and so Lizzie felt she had a right to say what she said, even if it wasn’t peaceable and was as far from charitable as she could get.”

Lizzie’s complex emotions are evident from this passage where she meets Turner for the first time. She is heartbroken and angry over the idea of losing her home, and her frustration with being treated badly is apparent when she thinks that “she had had enough of that”. Like Turner, Lizzie struggles with living up to the expectations placed on her by being closely related to a respected minister and acknowledges that her opening words to Turner are not “peaceable” or “charitable.”

“He stood up, his head held carefully, and looked fully at her for the first time. He was surprised to find that he immediately liked her. In fact, he was almost shocked that he immediately liked her. He’d never even spoken to a Negro before. Never once. But he liked the smooth, easy way she stood, as if she were part of the contour of the shore. He liked the oak brown of her eyes and the grip of her long toes on the rocky ground, the tilt of her head like a sail catching the wind. She had lit out for the Territories and found them, he thought.”

Turner’s reaction to Lizzie is notable both for his strong positive emotion and for his surprise about it. Even though he comes from Boston, where racial and economic diversity might make it more likely that he would encounter someone from a different background than himself, Turner doesn’t have any experience forming a relationship with a Black person. Turner’s thought about Lizzie having “found the Territories” indicates that Lizzie has achieved much of what Turner wants for himself.

“And suddenly, Turner had a thought that had never occurred to him before: he wondered if his father really believed a single thing he was saying.

And suddenly, Turner had a second thought that had never occurred to him before: he wondered if he believed a single thing his father was saying.” 

As his father lectures Turner in a way that Turner feels is artificial, he wonders if either of them is doing more than putting on a show of devoutness. This questioning is typical of Turner, a teenage protagonist in a coming-of-age story. The passage also highlights the religious pretenses used by the townspeople to justify their actions, now come home to the Buckminsters in their own disagreements.

“What could he say? That he had practiced with Lizzie, dug for clams, and eaten them later in a chowder so good that he might have given up Eden for it? That he had spread his arms and flown with the Tripps? That he had sat quietly by the water’s edge and dreamed dreams? That he had found a place that was more home than home?”

The references to Adam in the biblical book of Genesis continue with the reference to Eden, the paradisical garden where Adam reportedly lived. The use of the word emphasizes Turner’s blissful experience in Malaga. His feelings about the island are notably warm and strong, even to the point that he feels that it is “more home than home.”

“In the moonlight he saw a silver spray burst up into the air, a shower of diamond dust. Then another, and another almost beside the boat, so that he could feel the spray of it against his face, and the dory rocked to the rhythm of the new swells as a great Presence broke the surface of the sea and Turner knew, or felt, the vastness of whales […] Turner heard them ripping the surface all around him, and felt the diamond spray sprinkle down on him in the moonlight like a benediction. He knew he was in the middle of something much larger than himself, and not just larger in size. It was like being in the middle of a swirling universe that could swamp him in a moment but had no desire to. He might put his hand into the maelstrom and become a part of it.”

There are several imagery and language choices that reinforce Turner’s sense of awe as he encounters the whales. One of these is the phrase “Presence,” which evokes divinity. “Vastness,” “diamond spray,” “moonlight,” “benediction” (a traditional religious word for “blessing”), and “swirling universe” all evoke beauty, wonder, and a transcendent experience. The whales become more of a religious experience for Turner than the many services he attends, as he finds a sense of connection with the whales that he is unable to feel with the townspeople in the church.

“He thought of swatting at thin air, of swatting at rocks on the shore, of Lizzie Bright Griffin, of tossing a ball back and forth, digging clams, sitting on the beach watching the tide heave in and out like the vast breathing of a whale.

Could it all have been a lie?

He had almost touched a whale.

By now his father had gotten onto the woes of Jericho, and he was finding his stride. Jericho, his father announced, was a place that needed to be rooted out so that God’s good and perfect purposes might be fulfilled […] Reverend Buckminster paused and cleared his throat. He paused some more and cleared his throat again. He looked down at Mrs. Buckminster. He looked away.”

The contrast between the imagery of the natural world during Turner’s reverie and the negative connotations of his father’s sermon (“woes” and “rooted out”), indicates that Turner’s allegiance is shifting from his father’s views and those of the church to trusting his own experiences instead. Reverend Buckminster’s own conflict is depicted when he pauses, looks at his wife—who serves as a moral guide to him—and then looks away ashamed.

“[Mrs. Hurd] smiled and winked at [Turner]. ‘I went [to church] every Sunday until my hair turned white, and in all that time I never heard a sermon worth that’—and she snapped her fingers in front of him, a dry sort of soft snap. ‘So one day I up and decided I wouldn’t go anymore. Imagine that, Turner III. After all, why should Sundays be so dreary?’” (Chapter 6, Page 96)

Mrs. Hurd fulfills her role as iconoclast and visionary by telling Turner about how organized religion failed to meet her spiritual needs—here represented by her desire to hear an engaging sermon. This foreshadows Turner’s later clashes with the church. Mrs. Hurd’s independence and authenticity (“I up and decided I wouldn’t go anymore”) are empowering to Turner.

“Turner felt as if the world was suddenly a more mysterious place. He had never before thought that there were things he ought to be doing that might cause, well, fire. When he opened the book and began to read, he was Jim Hawkins at the captain’s chest, Sinbad opening his eyes in the Valley of Rubies, Huck himself waking up to a brand-new bend in the Mississippi.

And it wasn’t long before he knew that what he was reading was fire, all right.

It was almost like lighting out for the Territories […] He would not warm anyone at First Congregational with it. He had promised his father.

But he could warm Lizzie.”

This passage from the beginning of Turner’s studies with his father and his first encounter with Charles Darwin’s ideas show how invigorating and exciting they are to Turner. The literary allusions to Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island, the traditional legends of Sinbad the Sailor from the Middle East, and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn all evoke adventure and daring. Turner’s reaction to the controversial reading is significant—he knows he cannot share it with anyone in town, but because Lizzie is on the outskirts of Phippsburg society, he can share it with her.

“Turner wondered what it would be like to float down the New Meadows with his house on a raft, floating to where he did not know. Suddenly, he wasn’t too sure about lighting out for the Territories. Suddenly, he wondered if having a house wrapped around him wasn’t something he wanted a whole lot more.

It was sure enough what Lizzie Bright wanted.”

Turner begins to realize that his desires have begun to shift from independence and so-called freedom from commitment to place to a more rooted desire to make a home for himself. This increases Turner’s commitment to help Lizzie, since he can now understand and empathize with her in a new way.

“[Turner] looked at Reverend Buckminster, expecting the disappointment he knew his father must feel. But his father’s eyes were upon him, and they were not disappointed […] Then Turner saw his father stand like Aeneas with his two spears, pausing beside burning Troy and putting it all behind him, his face to an open world.

‘What would you have me say, Mr. Stonecrop? That my own boy shouldn’t find shelter for someone in need? That my own boy shouldn’t care for the outcast? [...] By God, that my own boy shouldn’t stand up—as his father should have stood up—against the money of the town when it set about to destroy a community that never harmed it, merely for the sake of tourists from Boston? Is that what you’d have me say to him?’”

Turner is surprised to find that his father is not disappointed in him, but rather commends his son for helping Lizzie. This is one of the most direct oppositions Reverend Buckminster makes to Mr. Stonecrop and the Malaga eviction, and it foreshadows the incident on the cliffs when he becomes injured while he defends his son.

“Ethics are a fine thing to have, Reverend. You can take them out and wave them around like a flag whenever you feel a qualm of conscience. And all that flag-waving will make you feel just like you’re up there in heaven with God Himself. But God has seen fit to set me to live in the here and now, Reverend. And I do what it takes to live in the here and now.”

Mr. Stonecrop articulates his standpoint on the Malaga eviction, which is that although his motives may go against traditional religious principles, God has given him the task of surviving in the real world. Mr. Stonecrop views the Malaga eviction as a means to an end, which he believes is morally permissible because he is doing God’s will. Turner, his father, and Mr. Newton all refuse to accept that moral explanation.

“‘Deacon Hurd,’ Mr. Newton began slowly, ‘a minister surely does need to support the town. But I’m not sure that means the same thing to me as it does to you. Seems to me you’re saying that a minister should go along with whatever the town decides is fit. But I’m wondering if what we need is a minister who makes us ask what is fit […] But I do know this: what we did down at Malaga wasn’t philanthropy, and we’re only lying to ourselves if we say it was. They all could have lived there another hundred and twenty-five years without bothering a single soul, but we wanted them gone. And that’s the truth…And that boy there saw someone who had no roof over her head, and he set doing something about it, and I’m ashamed because I didn’t stand with him. I’m ashamed that not a single deacon on this board stood with him.’”

Like Turner’s father, Mr. Newton is inspired by Turner’s actions to try and help Lizzie and the Malaga residents. Turner comes to serve as the moral voice for those in Phippsburg who were against the Malaga eviction. Mr. Newton acknowledges that the church is supposed to be the center of moral life for the town, and yet none of the church leaders openly opposed the eviction.

“Suddenly, Turner was back in his father’s study. His father had just lit his pipe, and the sweet tobacco scent of it was curling around the room and mixing with the smell of leather and polished wood. He had come to the last heady page of The Origin of Species, had felt a thrill crawling up his back and into his gut with the closing sentence of praise and wonder: ‘From so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being evolved.’

His father had looked up as he closed the book, and he had smiled. ‘Who knows where these ideas will take us,’ he had said. ‘But won’t it be exciting to find out.’ They had nodded together, not only father and son, but two people with an open world in front of them.”

Turner recalls the excitement and wonder with which he and his father reacted to Charles Darwin’s work. Rather than being a conservative, Reverend Buckminster seems to be fully allied in the progressive faction of the town with his words of hope about where he thinks Darwin’s ideas will take the country. The phrase “open world” suggests freedom, adventure, and excitement.

“The ashes fell against the books Turner carried down Parker Head that afternoon. With each load, Turner felt he was leaving something behind, and though he could not say why, he felt lighter. It no longer mattered to him how the people of First Congregational voted; he imagined that his father would hardly care, either. Maybe they would leave Phippsburg. Once his father was conscious again, they could go down to Pownal, pluck Lizzie Bright from the asylum, and leave forever.

Maybe they would light out for the Territories, after all.”

At this point in the story, Turner is still hopeful that he can get Lizzie out of the hospital. The ashes that are falling from the sky physically come from Malaga Island, and they foreshadow the fact that Lizzie died. Turner is also optimistic that his father will recover, but the ashes foreshadow the Reverend Buckminster’s death as well.

“What had his father been thinking when he went over the cliff? What had been in his eyes? And it came to Turner, no matter how much he tried to hold it back, no matter how hard he tried to make the night darker so that he couldn’t see it: his father tottering, arms reaching forward to nothing, leaning back. And his eyes.

And then he remembered. He had already seen what was in his father’s eyes.

He had seen it in the eye of the whale […] What had been in their eyes? What was it that the whale knew? What was it that his father knew?”

Turner begins to make a connection between the mysterious feeling he had that the whales were trying to communicate something to him and seeing his father fall off the cliff. He discovers that his father was trying to impart the same lesson to him and becomes determined to try and find out what it is.

“[Turner] turned from one [whale] to another, their sea-washed eyes open and watching, and then finally he leaned out. And he touched the cool, wet, perfect smoothness of whale.

Then he knew. Then he knew.

The knowledge in his father’s eyes and in the whales’ eyes.

The world turns and the world spins, the tide runs in and the tide runs out, and there is nothing in the world more beautiful and wonderful in all its evolved forms than two souls who look at each other straight on. And there is nothing more woeful and soul-shattering than when they are parted. Turner knew that everything in the world rejoices in the touch, and everything in the world laments in the losing.

And he had lost Malaga.”

This revelation forms an emotional core of the book, as Turner realizes that the moral axis by which he understands the world is that connection is the most important quality. Separation, isolation, and fragmentation all go against this moral code, which explains why Turner is so against the Malaga eviction.

“By the time of this story, [the residents of Malaga Island] had been getting along for over a century and a quarter, since Benjamin Darling, a freed or possible escaped slave, had settled there with Sarah Proverbs, his white wife. More slaves followed, and the Darlings had two sons. Those sons had fourteen children, and soon about fifty people—Portuguese, Irish, Scottish, African American, Native American, others not accepted in Phippsburg for whatever reason—were inhabiting the island, living by fishing, lobstering, farming, and working in town when allowed.”

Schmidt provides historical information about his subject, which helps the reader understand the factual basis for the book. The details about the island’s community and origins complement Lizzie’s story and the story of her family. Such facts lend credibility to Schmidt’s story.

“Phippsburg is a town where everyone has green shutters because everyone expects green shutters, where people point and laugh at other people, where every mistake Turner makes is known to the town and told to his father, where folks talk a whole lot about what God wants, which usually is what they themselves want: what will make them rich...No wonder Turner wants to light out for the Territories—and he does. Not literally or physically but by escaping the narrow-minded, greedy citizens or Phippsburg and thinking for himself.”

Author Karen Cushman examines the hypocrisy of Phippsburg and describes Turner’s fascination with “lighting out for the Territories.” Cushman states that Turner achieves this through his state of mind, not his physical location. This helps the reader better understand Schmidt’s use of this figurative language.

 “Some characters, such as Turner and Willis and Reverend Buckminster, get a chance to grow and change through their challenges; some choose not to; others, tragically, do not have the choice or the chance.”

Cushman highlights the various ways that transformation is used in the book. Schmidt deliberately creates some static characters and some dynamic ones to examine the ways in which social issues affects individual lives and the identity of a community.