56 pages • 1 hour read
Ray BradburyA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
On a beautiful day, Douglas goes hiking with John Huff, who is the best athlete of all the boys. John knows the names of all the flowers and the time of moonrise and the words to all the cowboy songs; the narrative describes him as “the only god living in the whole of Green Town, Illinois, during the twentieth century that Douglas Spaulding knew of” (136). Douglas is thinking how perfect and sunny everything is, and how it’ll surely last forever, when John suddenly announces that he and his family are moving to Milwaukee and must leave that evening. Douglas sits under a tree to think; John joins him. Douglas says John can visit every week; John says more likely it’ll be twice a year. Douglas says he’ll call John or visit him. John is quiet and Douglas suddenly wants to cram a month’s worth of conversation into one afternoon. John mentions the colored windows in a neighbor’s house, saying he only just noticed them for the first time and now wonders what else he has not fully appreciated. He also worries that he’ll forget things about his life in Green Town, the way he sometimes forgets what his parents’ faces look like. John begs Douglas never to forget him. Douglas promises, but when John closes his eyes and asks Douglas to tell him what color they are, Douglas guesses wrong.
The two boys run along the railroad tracks, stop to eat their bag lunches, and race again. Douglas pauses a moment as John keeps running. Douglas asks his friend to stop, because running and playing speed up time, and suddenly their last day together will be over. They climb into a haystack and agree to do nothing. Early in the evening, back in town, Douglas and John and Charlie and Tom hold one last game of hide-and-seek and Statues. Douglas is “it” and the others run off. Douglas waits, and then calls, “Statues!” and the other boys freeze in place. Douglas walks to John, who is frozen in mid-flight, and walks around him, staring at him as if at a marble statue. Next, John is “it” and makes the boys freeze, then walks around Douglas. John gives his friend one last gaze, then gently punches his arm, says, “So long,” and is gone. The other boys return to their homes. At his door, Douglas turns, shakes his fist at John’s house, and yells angrily that they’re now enemies. Walking slowly upstairs, Douglas thinks, “I’m mad, I’m angry, I hate him, I’m mad, I’m angry, I hate him!” (147) That night, Douglas asks Tom to “stick around” and not get hit by a car or anything. Tom assures him that he will.
Elmira Brown’s husband, Sam, is a mail carrier. He stops by the house in the middle of the day and tells Elmira that he just delivered a book to Clara Goodwater. He peeked at a few pages and discovered that it is a book on magic and witchcraft. Elmira is outraged. She marches outside, where she finds Tom and commands him to follow her. They head over to Clara’s house. Elmira accuses Clara of practicing witchcraft to win the election and become the president of the Honeysuckle Ladies Lodge. Clara denies it, but Elmira disbelieves her. The conversation kicks off a bit of a feud between the two ladies; Clara says that Elmira loses the vote to be president every single year. Elmira retorts that, every year, injuries or illness prevent her from campaigning for the position; she blames her mishaps on Clara’s alleged witchcraft, while Clara blames Elmira’s own clumsiness and threatens to put a hex on her.
Vowing to fight Clara for the presidency at the next Lodge meeting, Elmira goes to the library and checks out a book on magic potions. She stirs together various chemicals into a greenish goo and drinks it just before the lodge meeting. Clara calls the meeting to order, then invites Elmira to say a few words. Elmira stands, tipping over her chair, and whispers to Clara that she has ingested a concoction that makes her immune to evil. Elmira tells the group that Clara is a witch, and rails against her. When the vote is called, every other woman in the room votes for Clara. Stunned at the result, Elmira stares at Clara, who pulls from her purse a wax doll stabbed with thumbtacks. Elmira, her stomach churning, runs for the restroom, takes a wrong turn, and tumbles down a staircase, vomiting up the concoction on the way down. Miraculously, Elmira is bruised but otherwise unhurt. Clara holds Elmira’s head in her lap and, crying, promises never again to use magic against her. Clara even insists that the Lodge hold a second vote and make Elmira the new president. At this, the other ladies, gathered on the steps, burst into tears. Everyone walks happily back up to the main hall. Having witnessed the whole event, Tom makes his escape and describes the entire episode in detail to Douglas, who squints and says simply, “Witches…”
Colonel Freeleigh dreams that he is the last apple to fall from the orchard. He wakes up, startled, and dials his friend Jorge in Mexico City, who obligingly holds the phone up to an open window. The colonel listens once again to the sounds of a city he remembers from when he was 25. Lately, he’s been dialing old friends all over Latin America. The cost is high but worth it. His nurse enters and scolds him for using the phone and exciting himself; she forbids him from entertaining the young boys and risking heart trouble and warns him that his son may order the phone removed. She puts him into bed and removes the wheelchair. Freeleigh protests that it’s better to die of aliveness than live without it. She calls Jorge and tells him to accept no further calls from the colonel.
The nurse departs for the store. Freeleigh quickly rises, stumbles across the room, re-dials Jorge, and begs to hear, one last time, the sounds of the faraway city. Reluctantly, Jorge obliges him, and he listens to an organ grinder, and boys “crying loteria nacional para hoy!” as they vend lottery tickets (176). Minutes later, Douglas and Charlie sneak into the house—they promised the colonel they’d visit when the nurse was away—and open the door to his room. They find him seated on the floor, with the phone’s receiver gripped in his cold, dead hand. Douglas lifts the receiver to his ear and hears the sound of a window being closed. The next day, while playing around the big cannon on the courthouse lawn, Douglas tells Tom that a whole lot of lives died along with Colonel Freeleigh—Abe Lincoln, General Lee, General Grant, Ching Ling Soo, the bison—and already Douglas regrets not fully appreciating them when the colonel described them. Tom suggests that his brother write down those stories in his journal, lest he forget them. Douglas decides to do so.
Douglas and Grandpa finish bottling the wine made from the July harvest of dandelions, 31 bottles in all. They all look the same except for the dates; these remind Douglas of the things that happened to him on those days. He wonders where all the light and sound of those days went to and surmises that maybe the wine contains it all. However, he notes that the bottle for the day that John left and the one for the day Colonel Freeleigh died look no darker than the others. Douglas worries aloud that the August crop won’t contain any good memories, but Grandpa gently scolds him for being morose. Bill Forrester takes Douglas downtown to the soda fountain for some lime-vanilla ice cream. At the counter, they catch the eye of 95-year-old Helen Loomis, who compliments Bill on his brave choice of flavors. She invites them to sit with her, and Bill admits that he once was in love with her. She says, “Now that’s the way I like a conversation to open” (185) and adds that Bill reminds her of a gentleman she dated 70 years ago. She invites Bill to meet her at her home the following afternoon for tea, and he agrees. The next day, they talk for hours as Helen regales him with stories of Cairo. When finally she finishes, he leans back and squints at her, then tells her he can see the echo of the young woman she used to be.
For the next two weeks, they meet almost daily. Helen talks of her visit to Paris in 1885, and once again he imagines himself at her side. It’s the same when she speaks of Stockholm and Venice: “The things she had done alone, they were now doing together” (194). She asks what he meant about having been in love with her. He explains that he clipped out a news picture of her, taken when she was 20 and was about to search for her at an upcoming charity ball when someone explained to him about the antique photo and warned him off. She thanks him for wanting to find her. In return, she describes her first and only beau, a wild-haired, intense man who rode fast horses, quit jobs impetuously, and gave up on her when he realized that she was wilder than he. She wonders now if Bill, who’s so similar, is the reincarnated soul of her first love. One day, late in August, Bill finds her in the garden writing a letter to him. She puts it in a blue envelope and says, “When you receive this in the mail, you’ll know I’m dead” (198). She explains that she’ll die in a few days. She has loved their friendship, a “meeting of the minds” that transcends the flesh, and hopes that, in some other lifetime, they might meet again when both are young (199-200). She asks that he not live to be too old and hopes that they will meet again as two young people in an ice cream shop. Two days later, at work, Douglas delivers the blue envelope to Bill. They go to the drugstore fountain, where he pulls out the letter. It reads: “A dish of lime-vanilla ice” (204).
The center of the book focuses largely on loss: a friendship broken by necessity, and the last wishes of two elderly Green Town residents before they die. As Douglas is repeatedly forced to confront the deaths of good people and the endings of good things, he struggles to accept The Unstoppable Passage of Time even as he comes to appreciate the concept of Memory as an Act of Preservation. Whether he is relating his adventures to his brother or scribbling his thoughts in a journal, he stands witness to great tragedies and losses in these central chapters of the novel, and these experiences will eventually precipitate his own spiritual crisis.
In this section of the novel, Bradbury makes it a point to emphasize that changes and endings come to everyone, no matter their age. For example, Douglas and John’s last day together takes on a desperately bittersweet, boyish longing as each child realizes just how short their time together is, and just how unlikely they will ever be to celebrate their friendship as fully as in these last moments. Bradbury uses this scenario to reiterate the importance of appreciating The Magic of Everyday Things, for John and Douglas both worry that by failing to notice the littlest details of life and of each other, their memories will fade and their entire past friendship will simply disappear as if it never happened at all. As they struggle with the pain of their impending separation, Bradbury issues a reminder that children suffer as much or more than do adults when important relationships come to an end, for the very essence of their fledgling identities is often lodged deeply within such friendships. This intensity explains Douglas’s sense of betrayal; he hates that a best friend can simply disappear in this manner. Accordingly, their final game of Statues is designed to juxtapose their fervent wish to make time stand still with their anguished realization that time stands still for no one. In a rare example of a moment in which the artist confirms the source of the art, Bradbury has gone on record as stating that the character of John Huff is based on a boy with the same name who left him in the same way; Bradbury is more fortunate than his protagonist, for he and his friend had a reunion decades letter, their friendship still intact.
Mired in deep philosophical contemplations, the book pauses its meditation on death and memory to showcase a slapstick, comedic episode about jealousy and paranoia with the awkward Elmira Brown’s campaign against the ever-more-popular Clara Goodwater, whom she believes is a practicing witch. Elmira’s campaign against Clara echoes the intolerance that plagued Colonial American women in New England during the late 1600s, when a witch hunt caused dozens of deaths. Bradbury reminds readers that Green Town, like every town of its size, harbors people whose paranoia hides their own incompetence but causes damage to innocent others. Just when it looks as if Elmira has made a complete “fool” of herself, and Clara has merely been teasing her all these years, the possibility suddenly arises that Clara is, in fact, a witch who has been jinxing Elmira for years. Either way, filled with remorse over Elmira’s fall down the stairs, Clara promises that the woman’s suffering will now be at an end, and that, furthermore, she’ll be the new Lodge president. In Bradbury’s works, there’s always more than enough room for something fantastical to occur in the middle of a book that, until then, seems based only on ordinary life. As Bradbury dabbles in such moments of magical realism, it is left up to the reader to decide just where reality ends and fantasy begins.
Returning to darker themes, the narrative revisits Colonel Freeleigh as his “time machine” existence finally winds down to a halt. In this scene, Bradbury finds yet another angle from which to explore The Unstoppable Passage of Time, and he also critiques the misguided attempts of younger generations to increase the length of someone’s life by sacrificing its quality. Thus, although the nurse tries to preserve the old man’s health by stifling all the things that “excite” him—the visits with the boys, the calls to friends in South America—she does not seem to realize that such excitement is worth the risk of death, for without such moments, life is simply not worth living. A past master at enjoying the details of the world around him, the old man fights for a few final remembrances, for those memories are the very essence of who he truly is. Freeleigh’s final struggle therefore links all three of the book’s main themes—The Magic of Everyday Things, The Unstoppable Passage of Time, and Memory as an Act of Preservation.
A companion piece to Freeleigh’s is the May/December romance between Bill and Helen. Steeped in the book’s atmosphere of nostalgia, the episode—originally published separately as a short story called “The Swan”—introduces Helen Loomis, whose “time-traveling” capabilities are just as potent in their way as the memories of old Colonel Freeleigh. As she regales Bill Forrester with stories of thrilling cities and faraway countries, she and Bill relive her past life moments together and indulge in the fantasy that they took those adventures together as two lovers in real life. Helen, along with Lena Auffmann and Clara Goodwater, represent Bradbury’s immense respect for intelligent women of great spirit. Though old-fashioned in many ways, Bradbury was ahead of his time in his appreciation for the intelligence, creativity, and perspective that so many women ache to share within a patriarchal world that doesn’t completely accept them. In his stories, their wisdom shines brightly, and he uses their words to honor a world enhanced by the full contributions of such heroines.
By Ray Bradbury