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61 pages 2 hours read

JoAnne Tompkins

What Comes After

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2021

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Themes

The Power of Silence

Content Warning: This section contains references to domestic violence, sexual assault, death by suicide, murder, and animal death.

What Comes After presents silence as multifaceted and powerful. Isaac insists on silent reflection both when he attends Quaker meetings and when he makes important decisions. However, he acknowledges that his silence can be a weapon against those he loves—a weapon that allows him to feel superior in his calm while passively harming those who care for him. Jonah feels calm only when at meetings, where he can sit in silence and allow himself to exist. The many questions that hang in the air between characters (but are rarely voiced) further demonstrate the power of silence and the power of breaking a silence.

Silence is a primary tenet of Quaker worship. Meetings are silent unless a member is moved by the spirit of the Divine to speak. Isaac embraces this silence beyond meetings and uses it as a tool to manage his emotions and insist on space for decision-making. However, his reliance on silence is complicated because he speaks more often at meetings than anyone else and reveals in the process of his clearness committee meetings that he isn’t really moved by any Divine force. He learned silence from his father, but the intimacy that silence offered was broken when his father touched him. Isaac acknowledges that his silence can be a “withholding” and that it led to conflicts with his father, wife, and son. He even says that “certain silences c[an] be sharpened into long, fine needles and slid with little effort into a beloved’s ender places” and explains that the silence itself provides a hiding place for the wielder of that weapon (207).

The contrast to Isaac’s use of silence as a protective isolating force, and a weapon, is Jonah’s experience of calm and reflection at Quaker meetings. He says, “All that quiet calmed me” (37), and, “[I]n meeting, there were no monsters, no dad, nothing pounding at the outside of me. Just peace” (264). Silence thus made Jonah feel free from his potential violence, and he argues in his early chapters that had he kept going to meetings, he wouldn’t have killed Daniel. This argument demonstrates the power of silence to stop violence or redirect violent urges. While Isaac uses silence as a protective force to prevent intrusion, Jonah used silence to hear his soul and hear the good things in the world without interference from trauma or violence.

The novel’s focus on silence continues in the unspoken truths between the characters. Peter doesn’t lie about hiring sex workers and cheating on his wife; he just doesn’t mention it. Until the novel’s climax, Isaac and Lorrie never directly talk about Daniel or Jonah, avoiding the topic that hangs in the silence between them. The novel’s climactic moments that happen in the present (Lorrie and Isaac discussing her burning Jonah’s clothes, Isaac asking about the father of the baby, Evangeline insisting that Isaac work things out with Lorrie) are all about breaking the silence to say things that have gone unsaid. Every time, the air is clearer, and relationships grow stronger and more intimate. However, the most intense relationships remain silent: Evangeline never explains to Isaac her love for Jonah or how Daniel raped her. Lorrie and Isaac never really talk about their shared grief. Only Peter releases his silence entirely, and though he receives forgiveness and understanding, his marriage is over, he loses his job, and his reputation is ruined. The novel presents silence as ambiguously as it does the characters.

The Complex Nature of Belief

The conflict between fact, truth, mystery, and discovery is in constant tension throughout the novel. Although mystery novels tend to answer typical questions in the first chapter with stark facts, those facts only reveal what happened rather than the truth buried in the events. This novel’s real mystery is why these things occurred and what they mean to those left behind. Evangeline’s attitude toward truth and her desire to be believed presents a conflict between telling the facts and revealing the truth. Isaac and Evangeline both reject religion and faith in the wake of personal tragedy but, in confronting the ways they misled themselves, discover new solace through believing in humanity, love, and family.

Evangeline lies to Isaac about how she came to be in his yard, hides her pregnancy, and doesn’t reveal her relationships with Daniel and Jonah. When Isaac asks her about her life, she tells him a story, justified by her position that “people g[e]t all caught up in the minutiae […] and miss[] core emotional truths. If a few so-called facts need a tweak here or there to help those people understand […] she’d be happy to supply them” (71). For Evangeline, truth is emotion rather than event. She desperately wants others to believe her because she tells the “core emotional truth,” so she seeks to be believed at a core emotional level rather than a surface level. This dedication to belief based on deep truth rather than appearance lets her see beyond facades and into the hearts of people she interacts with.

Isaac wants to believe in God’s benevolence and searches for the light and goodness in Quaker meetings. At the beginning of the novel, he rages silently at God, feeling that God stole everything from him and mocked him by continuing his own life. Near the end of the book, he finally acknowledges to himself and his Quaker Friends why he was searching for God: “To satisfy my ego. To prove I deserve my place as an elder, as weighty Quaker after so many years […] a fraud” (356). After this admission, when he holds Evangeline’s baby, Emma, he finally feels the unity of the Divine that he searched for in religion. Similarly, Evangeline sought protection and solace in her mother’s Christianity, but after her mother’s religious fervor failed to provide her with security and her prayers failed to improve her life, she responded with bitterness. Evangeline longed to share that sense of loss (the loss of her belief in both her mother and Jesus) with Jonah: She felt “a ragged-edged yearning to be rid of secrets she had, until then, gone out of her way to protect” (131). To acknowledge the truth of her life would be to allow all the secrets to be revealed. At the end of the novel, she tells the truth, both emotional and factual, to Lorrie and Isaac to honor them. She believes, finally, in herself and the value of family, so emotional and factual truth become unified.

The Natural Explanations of Violence

What Comes After intimately explores the provocations of violence and the reasons why people behave violently. Jonah and his father both felt compelled to die by suicide to protect their loved ones from their own violence. Daniel acted violently toward both Evangeline and Jonah, but that violence was tinged with love and insecurity rather than presented as simple evil. Throughout the novel are references to animals that behave violently or contain the capacity for violence, and the novel often compares those animals to the characters. This connection between violence, nature, protection, and love suggests that violence is a natural urge that only self-reflection and self-examination can harness and control.

In Jonah’s quest to understand his own actions, he asks about the nature of evil. He suggests that evil is multifaceted, inherited, and a kind of illness. Isaac once described evil to Jonah as a “force,” and Jonah believes that he allowed evil into himself because of his love for his father. His father was abusive and violent, and as Jonah’s narration advances, it becomes clear that for him, evil and physical violence are inherently connected. His father was violent, and that violence was an evil; because Jonah could love his father even after seeing his evil, the nature of evil and violence becomes gray and complex. Jonah sees his father’s death as the ultimate act of protection: Because Roy couldn’t control his violent urges, the only way to protect his family was to remove himself from it violently. Jonah sees his death by suicide as is his own way of protecting those he loved by eliminating his violence from the world.

Daniel behaved violently in various ways. He and Jonah physically wrestled and fought, and those fights were tinged with genuine anger and even a sexual charge. The novel initially presents his rape of Evangeline as a pure expression of violence, but when she reflects on it, she realizes that him insistently, repeatedly saying, “You want me” (234), wasn’t an attempt to force her to enjoy it but an expression of his deep inadequacy following his breakup with his girlfriend. Daniel’s desire to own and control via violence signifies his internal pain rather than his internal evil.

The novel describes several notable instances of violence to and by animals, including the mauled fawn that Isaac found, the neighbor’s cat that Rufus killed, and the buck that Evangeline saw shortly before Daniel and Jonah shot it. The violent deaths of these animals mirror the violence inherent in nature: Though the cat and the buck were killed primarily because of human intervention, the natural urge to hunt and kill is instinctual in both animals as well as humans. Animals have no sense of morality and no direct connection to the Divine and thus are incapable of evil, whereas the boys could have made different choices and acknowledge the connectedness of life that violence violates.

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