The Dreamer

The narrative’s rising action in Chapters 7-9 is most significantly defined by a turning point in Neftalí’s character arc: He begins to resent his father for not accepting him as he is. Instead of thinking there’s something wrong with him, Neftalí thinks to himself, “Wasn’t he fine just the way he was? How would the daily terror in the ocean make him stronger? What made Father so cruel?” (175). This transformation in how Neftalí views himself leads to acts of rebellion against his father’s efforts to change him. He reads in secret and daydreams on purpose. These changes establish a conflict between who Neftalí wants to be and who his father wants him to be, advancing a thematic exploration of Inspiration, Influence, and Identity.

Neftalí sees in his own transformation a connection to the ocean. Upon first seeing it, Neftalí imagines himself as the sea’s audience, watching it perform and bow to him. By the end of that summer, however, Neftalí’s relationship with the ocean changes. He loves and hates it simultaneously and feels a peculiar sense of ownership toward it. The sea becomes his audience. While the sea may be a witness to Neftalí’s transformation—and perhaps even its source—it has not become subservient. Before the day ends, the incoming tide erases the hateful words in the sand: “Little by little, letter by letter, the sea washed the sand clean” (235). It isn’t Neftalí’s newfound sense of identity being washed away in this peaceful, powerful process, but the false identity his father tried to press on him.

The author continues to reveal Neftalí’s vivid imagination through metaphor and scenes of magical realism. When Neftalí befriends the Mapuche boy aboard the paddle boat, the two become its sole passengers as the boat rises into the sky and sails amongst the clouds. The boy becomes “the figurehead beneath the bowsprit, eyes searching for the way,” while Neftalí becomes “the paddle wheel, moving them forward as one ancient spirit” (149), metaphorically conceiving their new intimacy with nature. Such scenes of magical realism draw a thematic connection between Daydreaming and the Pursuit of Dreams.

Later, as Neftalí fights against the ocean waves while swimming, he sees images of all the things that hold symbolic meaning for him in Puerto Saavedra—the Mapuche boy, the swans from the lagoon, even Augusto the librarian—bobbing on the water. They appear to sink below the water’s surface, as if Neftalí fears not only his own drowning, but that of all he cares about.

The ocean plays a symbolic role as an archetypal setting as well. The archetype of “The Threshold” refers to a gateway to a new world the protagonist must enter in order to change and grow. Neftalí is forced by his father to enter the world under the ocean’s surface, but crossing this symbolic threshold is what causes his transformation. Similarly, bodies of water as archetypes symbolize rebirth. Neftalí is a different person when he goes into the ocean water at the beginning of summer than when he emerges from it at the end of the trip.

Despite making only brief appearances, Augusto the librarian is an important character in the narrative for how he interacts with Neftalí, especially as he bonds with him over The Power of Words. Neftalí has struggled to separate his identity from the ways his father defines him. Augusto offers an alternate view. After ascertaining Neftalí’s reading preferences, Augusto tells him, “Ah…you are a conscientious reader with a taste for adventure” (184). In recognizing these traits, Augusto validates Neftalí’s identity and principles. He sees Neftalí, who has often felt invisible, in a way other adults have not. As someone who had a father like Neftalí’s and who calls book characters his “neighbors who reside among the pages” (189), Augusto helps Neftalí feel he’s not alone in the world.

Neftalí’s role as a protector, first established with his toy sheep in Chapter 6 (See: Symbols & Motifs), is expanded in this section. He is the one to comfort Laurita when she’s afraid and to keep her safe when they’re in the ocean. He also protects the injured swan, mending its wound and caring for it every day for weeks. Knowing what it’s like to live in fear of his father’s authoritarian presence inspires Neftalí to protect those who can’t protect themselves. This inclination continues to define his character later in life, as seen by his articles advocating for the marginalized Mapuche.

Narrative style in these chapters is developed in part through vivid imagery. For example, Neftalí is awed by “the sight of the infinite colors and the gentle curve of the faraway horizon” and “the height of the white spray breaking against the rocks” when he first sees the ocean (158-59). The author also employs a literary device known as “code switching” to weave Spanish words and phrases into the dialogue and scene descriptions. In the ocean, Neftalí looks at Mamadre and wonders, “Why was she not signaling for them to come in? Why was she not yelling ‘Basta, no mas!’ Enough is enough” (171). This code switching evokes the Chilean setting and cultural context of the story.

Personification imbues descriptions of the ocean, such as when Neftalí sees the waves bowing to him and the sea foam dancing “in and out, unable to make up its mind about whether to stay or go” (165). Such language characterizes Neftalí’s reverent relationship with nature. Literary allusions in the library scene pay homage to Arthur Conan Doyle, Victor Hugo, Henrik Ibsen, Leo Tolstoy, and other classic authors, once more spotlighting The Power of Words.