57 pages • 1 hour read
Fiona DavisA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Content Warning: The section discusses suicidal ideation, alcohol and substance use disorders, pregnancy loss, abuse, and involuntary hospitalization.
The iconic apartment building is a symbol of the extreme financial disparity of the decades in which the text is set: the 1880s, when the building was constructed, and the 1980s, when many residents sought to update their apartments to suit more contemporary, but equally decadent, tastes. Even during its construction, Theodore calls the building “overdo[ne]” and “a last gasp in an age of excess” (65): the lavish apartments an indulgence that only the wealthiest can enjoy. Though the building’s residents are not the richest members of society like the Rutherfords or the Astors, most are absurdly rich, having made their fortunes in business rather than by inheriting. Despite America’s impression of being a more equitable and open place than England, Sara recognizes that the social hierarchy is strictly enforced, as she reminds herself that Theodore is an affluent tenant while she is but a working-class employee. Their affair eventually raises eyebrows not simply because he is married but also because she is from a lower class, a difference highlighted by his comparison of her to Cinderella.
Likewise, when Bailey was young, her family’s visits to the Dakota to see their “cousins” emphasized the stark economic divide between them, described as a sizable chasm. Bailey thinks of the building as a representation of “pure decadence,” just as Melinda’s mother was “a throwback to the old days, encrusted with jewels, even at breakfast, her manner cold and officious” (28). Bailey’s father, a mechanic from New Jersey, could not have been more different, a distinction these holiday visits highlighted. Kenneth tells Bailey that “[t]he building is chock-full of misfits and betrayal, wealthy people using their assets to control their loved ones,” a dynamic that is “amplified a thousand times” at the Dakota (227). Thus, the building is like a microcosm of America: a glamorous showpiece that features the class of newly wealthy while hiding from view its reliance on and exploitation of the poor.
Minnie’s stolen emerald necklace is a motif that highlights The Resilience of Women, connecting several of the text’s female characters. First, Sara is falsely accused of theft and must survive the unjust consequences of this accusation. It is easy for men to believe she stole the jewels because she’s a woman. As Mr. Douglas tells the police and judge, “I knew we were taking a chance with putting a woman in charge, as sometimes pretty baubles can be too difficult to resist” (179). He suggests that women are naturally prone to stealing pretty things because, by nature, they cannot help themselves. Sara isn’t even tried for the crime, but she must persevere through eight months in a psychiatric hospital and her pregnancy loss.
Then, Nellie reveals that Daisy stole the necklace, just one of several items she steals to support her family after her mother’s death. Daisy tried to make more money legitimately but was thwarted by her boss’s lack of compassion. “Mr. Douglas had denied Sara’s request for Daisy’s pay raise, and only given her one extra day off a month” to care for her younger siblings (151). Had Daisy been allowed to take on more responsibility and earn more money at the Dakota, she would not have resorted to theft. As a result of the social injustices and disparities that influence Daisy’s life, she is forced to become resilient and resourceful—choosing crime only as a last resort—to keep herself and her family alive.
The Rutherfords’ costly Tibetan knife, which Theodore stole when he and Sara attended their masquerade ball, is a motif that emphasizes the theme of The Fragile Nature of Trust and Betrayal. He promises her that she will see society’s worst at the ball. While there, they hide in the library and overhear the hosts discussing the inconvenience of “street children,” including one such child who recently got a beating from the Rutherfords’ carriage driver. This is when Theodore spots the knife. He says to Sara, “I’m sure the child would’ve loved to get his hands on one of these, show them what’s what. I know I would have” (131). Theodore seems to relate to the child much more than he does the wealthy men, and Sara believes that “[h]is own humble background meant that he understood Sara more than anyone else ever had. He saw her not as a servant or a supervisor, but as a woman” (132). When the knife is reported stolen, Sara fears he’ll think she did it, but she never suspects he could have. He tells her the knife was likely taken by “one of the servants” and that he wouldn’t have taken such a thing (142).
Given Theodore’s eventual confession that he did steal the artifact, these circumstances demonstrate how trustworthy he seems versus how easily he betrays. Although Sara believes Theodore’s “humble” childhood allows him to see the artificiality of social divisions, he is all too willing to blame a servant—rather than an affluent party guest—for the crime. Though he purports to think that people like the Rutherfords are the “worst” of society, he is a thief himself, and his casual accusation of servants makes it clear that he thinks little of them. He pretends to espouse certain ideas, ones that make him seem much more trustworthy to Sara than he deserves. When she learns he stole the knife, she resents his willingness to take whatever shiny object he desires just because he can. Theodore betrays Sara in more ways than one, and the knife figuratively represents his willingness to deceive despite his appearance of trustworthiness.
By Fiona Davis