94 pages • 3 hours read
Emily St. John MandelA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more. For select classroom titles, we also provide Teaching Guides with discussion and quiz questions to prompt student engagement.
Arthur is kind, charming, and a gifted actor, but he can also be flighty and insincere, which makes it difficult for him to maintain relationships. Along with the Georgia Flu outbreak, Arthur’s character is the glue that holds the narrative together: everyone in the novel is connected to him in some way, with each character alternately attracted to or disappointed by him. In his youth, his talent and freshness endear him to Clark, Miranda, and others. However, in middle age, his fame leads to a grating tendency to put on an act, even in private matters. He also exhibits a tendency to use other people to meet his needs, whether by writing to Victoria or starting yet another affair. Shortly before his death, he feels a desire to change course, particularly by enhancing his relationship with his son. His journey from naïve youth to celebrity to father figure suggests a growing awareness of his own mortality, coupled with an urge to fill a role that he neglected while taking on fictional ones.
Like Arthur, Kirsten is a keen actor. She is also curious, passionate, and a skilled but reluctant fighter. A child at the time of the collapse, she necessarily toughens in subsequent years, but she retains a tenderness and sensitivity that are evident in the way she cares for others, particularly those younger than her. Her interview with Diallo reveals the psychological burden that Kirsten carries as a result of killing two men on separate occasions. By the end of the novel, when she kills a third person, that burden has not vanished, but Kirsten realizes that “it is possible to survive” such experiences (296), even as they weigh on her deeply. Kirsten’s arc as a character demonstrates the harsh realities of life after the Georgia Flu, where a young, innocent girl must become a killer, three times over.
Of all the characters in Station Eleven, Miranda has the most richly imaginative inward life, which gives birth to Dr. Eleven. Outwardly confident, Miranda secretly harbors fears and insecurities. During her early years at Neptune Logistics, she often feels inadequately dressed. She also maintains a relationship with Pablo long after it ceases to satisfy her. Her relationship with Arthur provides some relief, but it is short lived, as Miranda never fully adjusts to life in Los Angeles. All along, she pours her heart and soul into Dr. Eleven, her “constant,” which has strong autobiographical undertones. As she changes, her sympathies as an artist move from Dr. Eleven to the people of the Undersea, whom she sees as living in a state of perpetual uncertainty. Miranda’s compassion for them mirrors her compassion for herself, including her younger self, along with her repeated insistence that she does not “regret” or “repent” anything. Her attitude and death contrast with those of Arthur, showing that a resolve to stand by one’s choices can be just as significant as a resolve to change.
Arthur’s son, Tyler, starts out as a more or less blank slate. Though he goes on to commit atrocious acts, his development into the prophet is detailed in a way that allows room for sympathy. At the time of the collapse, Tyler, who is about Kirsten’s age, lives with his mother in Jerusalem, which she presumably selects as a religious center, and has only occasional contact with Arthur. After getting stranded in Severn City, Tyler increasingly takes his mother’s fatalistic religious beliefs to heart, until he leaves with a religious cult in year two. By the time of his encounter with Edward and his wife, whom Jeevan cares for, in year 15, Tyler is recognizable as the prophet who takes over St. Deborah by the Water. A foil character to Kirsten, whom Arthur symbolically adopts as a daughter, Tyler’s path to becoming the prophet models an abandonment of the principles on which civilization rests in favor of lawlessness, no matter how carefully he justifies it with elevated religious discourse.
Unlike Arthur, Kirsten, and Miranda, Jeevan does not find his vocation in life early or easily. After starting out as a wedding photographer, he becomes a paparazzo to make more money, despite his qualms about invading others’ privacy and exploiting their vulnerability, as he does when he photographs Miranda. He eventually switches to entertainment journalism, which he considers “less sleazy” but remains unsatisfied overall (167). Only after receiving training to become a paramedic and administering CPR to Arthur does he feel confident in his career choice. After the collapse, he continues to acquire medical knowledge and uses it to help others. Though he loses his brother, Frank, Jeevan starts a family and gives his brother’s name to his son. Jeevan’s development as a character suggests that happiness is found in helping, rather than exploiting, others.
Affable and sensitive, Clark becomes Arthur’s best friend when the two of them take an acting class together in Toronto as teenagers. At the time, Clark sports a punk hairstyle and tells Arthur that he would “rather die” than go to business school, as his parents want him to. He does not maintain his position, however, and ends up getting a PhD and becoming a management consultant. Like Arthur, Clark comes to a sudden realization, just before the collapse, that the life he has been living is an empty one, but, unlike Arthur, Clark survives to make a fresh start. He does this by contributing to the establishment of a community at the airport in Severn City and founding the Museum of Civilization. His return, late in life, to the hairstyle of his youth symbolizes the revival of his authentic self. Clark’s development constitutes a commentary on the potentially deadening effects of the modern corporate lifestyle.
The collection of 20-something people who make up the Traveling Symphony function, in many ways, as a single unit. In addition to traveling and performing together, they share a collective identity and purpose: the preservation of art in a desolate world. When members of the Symphony are separated from the main body of the Symphony, they feel displaced and disoriented. The Symphony also evolves over time, adding new people to the roster and adjusting its aims. At the end of the novel, the Symphony continues its march into uncharted territory, which would have been unheard of just a year before, when caution precluded the Symphony from leaving its established territory. There are hints that the Symphony’s departure from its usual physical territory may be accompanied by a departure from its usual repertoire: Sidney harbors aspirations to write new plays that grapple with the post-pandemic world.
By Emily St. John Mandel