The Fury

“The following year, Otto, inspired by Nikos’s efforts, arranged for a small orchard to be imported from Athens—hanging on ropes, suspended from helicopters—apple, pear, peach, and cherry trees, all planted in a walled garden. They, too, thrived. Everything seemed to bloom, on this island of love. Sounds blissful, doesn’t it? Idyllic, I know. Even now, it’s so tempting to romanticize it. No one wants reality; we all want a fairy tale—and that’s how Lana’s story seemed to the outside world. A charmed, magical life. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that things are seldom as they seem.”

Elliot establishes the island as a magical place, with fertile ground in which everything thrives. However, he also warns that the island isn’t what it appears, a hint that applies to the story he is about to tell. Elliot tells his story in layers, each of which gets further from the fairy tale and closer to the reality of what occurred on their trip to Aura.

“And even when I was a child, and full of self-loathing, I sensed another world was out there. A better world, where I might belong. A brighter world—beyond the darkness, lit by spotlights. What am I talking about? The theater, of course.”

In this passage, Elliot reveals why theater is such an integral part of his life and also explains his deep attachment to Lana. However, this narration also reveals to the reader Elliot’s Understanding the World Through Story—Elliot’s sense of safety and security is rooted in the theater, but it also offers him insight into character, which aids him in understanding people. This conflation of story and reality, however, will eventually prove to be his downfall.

“Jason couldn’t comprehend a world in which a man and a woman could be such close friends. Although Lana and I weren’t just friends—we were soulmates. But Jason couldn’t understand that either.”

From the beginning, Elliot’s antipathy toward Jason and the way he represents him is colored by a feeling of competition for Lana’s love. His understanding of Jason’s character is influenced by this perspective, and this passage suggests that Elliot is biased. His contention that he and Lana are soulmates is also suspect but shows Elliot’s justification in moving forward with his plan.

“I suspect my empathy for Jason will forever be limited. I can’t see beyond his terrible actions. I can’t see into the heart of the man—all the things he endured as a kid; the bad things, the indignities; the cruelties that made him believe the only way to succeed in life was to be selfish, ruthless, a liar, and a cheat. That’s what Jason thought being a man was. But Jason wasn’t a man. He was just a kid, playing make-believe.”

With the help of his therapist, Elliot has been able to confront his childhood and feel empathy for “the kid,” as he refers to his childhood self. He claims that with his new understanding, his empathy extends to other peoples’ inner children as well, and he is able to feel more compassion for them. This compassion, however, doesn’t extend to Jason, who is the focus of Elliot’s hatred and an unredeemable antagonist in Elliot’s story.

“And the wind, which had been picking up all day, first as a whisper, and now as a wail, began rushing at us, in a rage, across the water; tearing along the ground, shaking bushes and shrubs, rattling spiky cactus leaves, making the branches sway and creak.”

The wind is a powerful motif that echoes the rising tension of the story. As the action on the island grows more chaotic and violent, the wind parallels this energy. It acts as a harbinger that isn’t recognized until it is too late, but its elemental nature also contributes to the feeling that events are somehow out of the characters’ control and that the island has a fantastical nature.

“If I had to select one moment that weekend when it all went wrong, it was there, at the restaurant. An indefinable line was crosses, somehow—and we sailed from a place of normality, into uncharted territory: into a dark, friendless no-man’s-land, from which there was no safe return. The whole time we were sitting there, I could hear the wind, wailing on the water. It was picking up speed; tablecloths were flapping; candles blowing out. Below us, waves buffeted the seawall.”

The characters nearly didn’t go to the restaurant because of the rising wind and impending storm, and it only becomes more intense as the night goes on. Elliot’s recognizes it as parallel to the rising tension of their party. Although he is the architect of the fake death that is about to play out, he recognizes here that the atmosphere was rising to a murderous point before his murder scene could play out.

“That horrible anxious feeling left her. This is what it means to be content. Everything is perfect, just as it is. It was particularly cruel of fate to select that precise moment—just as Lana reached this epiphany about her life—for Agathi to enter the room…And Lana’s world to fall apart.”

Michaelides approaches the theme of The Relationship Between Destiny and Character from a variety of perspectives. Although, in other places, he attributes fate to character, here he represents fate as acting independently of character—the fact that Lana achieves peace of mind just before it is shattered is unrelated to her characterization or the archetype she fulfills. It is worth remembering, however, that this scene is told from Elliot’s limited perspective—it is hearsay, based on either a conversation with Lana or his imagination.

“What if she never mentioned it to Lana? What if she had kept her mouth shut? Well, I wouldn’t be sitting here now, talking to you, would I? Everything would be different. Which makes me think that the real hero of our story—or do I mean villain?—is Agathi. For it is her actions, and the decision she was about to make, that determined all our fates.”

Another concept that both Michaelides and his narrator, Elliot, explore is that of The Inevitable Fall of the Tragic Hero. Arguments can be made that either Elliot or Lana, or both, are the heroes of the story. Here, Elliot raises the idea of Agathi as the hero in her version of the events but then wonders if calling her the villain would be more appropriate. Both of these titles would work for Elliot and Lana, who both scheme and manipulate to achieve their ends.

“As she pictured this conversation, Lana felt a sudden rush of affection for Kate—her oldest, dearest friend. Thank God for Kate. Or is that bullshit? Did Lana secretly suspect something? Why else race to the theater like that? I’ll tell you one thing: after decades of being styled and photographed, modelling one piece or another, Lana had developed a photographic memory regarding clothing and items of jewelry. I find it hard to believe that she would think the earring familiar, yet be strangely unable to recall where she had seen it.”

Elliot insinuates that Lana knew Kate was Jason’s lover but didn’t want to admit it. He makes this same argument at various points in the story—Lana is refusing to see it, is in denial, or even is willing to do nothing. He uses this as his justification for his schemes and manipulations and for his pressure on Lana to continue with the plan.

“Both theater and reality, said Mr. Levy, came down to just three words—motivation; intention; and goal.”

This is one of the storytelling principles that Elliot uses to understand other people and the world around him. Elliot’s conflation of theater and reality is a constant thread in his thinking. His attempt to stage a real-life play is a failure because his characters don’t necessarily obey Levy’s principles.

“So if we consider that moment Lana turned up at my flat, you can see how my motivation was pain. Lana was in so much pain that night—it caused me distress just to witness it. And my misguided attempt to alleviate her suffering—and my own—was my intention. And my goal? To help Lana, of course. Did I succeed? Well, that’s where theater diverges from reality, sadly. In real life, things don’t work out quite as you planned.”

In this passage, Elliot uses Levy’s storytelling principles to explain his own actions. In this case, his explanation is a rationalization, attributing his motives to concern for Lana and a desire to protect her. In reality, Elliot is driven by his belief that it is his destiny to be with Lana based on the character archetypes they fulfill in his narrative.

“I often think life is just a performance. None of this is real. It’s a pretense of reality, that’s all. Only when someone, or something, we love dies, do we wake up from the play—and see how artificial it all is—this constructed reality we inhabit. We suddenly realize that life is in no way lasting, or permanent; no future exists—and nothing we do matters. And in desolation, we howl and scream and rail at the heavens, until, at some point, we do the inevitable: we eat, dress, and brush our teeth. We continue with the marionette-like motions of life, however unhinged it feels to do so. Then, ever so slowly, the illusion takes over again—until we forget that we are actors in a play. Until the next tragedy strikes—to wake us up.”

Here, Elliot addresses the shift in Lana’s mindset after discovering Jason’s affair. He again thinks of the world in layers, and “constructed reality” is a story people tell themselves. He speaks of a moment of clarity, when that story is revealed to be just that, and how we gradually lull ourselves back into complacency.

“What Jason did next would be most revealing. Barbara West once told me an old writing trick—where you give currency to a specific person, or object, by including them in a choice between two alternatives. What you are prepared to give up for something tells us everything about how much you value it.”

Lana, Jason, and Kate are finally confronting the reality of their relationship triangle, and Lana tells Jason to choose between herself and Kate. Elliot is a silent observer of the confrontation and is analyzing it using another literary convention, this time from Barbara. Although Elliot claims to care about both of the women involved, his tone is removed and almost clinical, and this makes his distance and apathy apparent when compared to other passages that frame him as a chivalrous protagonist.

“‘They’re not coming. It’s the wind. They can’t get a boat across.’ Kate stared down at me. Her face tightened. ‘But they have to—they must—’ ‘They said it’ll calm down by dawn…They’ll try then.’ ‘But—that’s in five hours.’ ‘I know.’ I nodded. ‘Until then, we’re on our own.’”

Elliot relays the news that the police can’t come to Aura, which also means that they can’t leave. Michaelides has created a set of circumstances that parallel those in Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None, which takes place on an isolated island. This also provokes the realization that, unless someone has somehow slipped onto the island unseen, one of them is the murderer.

“I am aware of the conventions of this genre. I know what’s meant to happen next. I know what you’re expecting. A murder investigation, a denouement, a twist. That’s how it’s supposed to play out. But as I warned you at the start, that’s not the way this is going to go. So, before our story deviates entirely from this familiar sequence of events—before we take a series of dark turns—let us consider how an alternative narrative might unfold.”

After establishing a firm connection between The Fury and Christie’s novel, and therefore classic murder mystery convention, Elliot distances his story from those conventions. He counts on his audience’s understanding of the genre and that they might recognize the ways in which his story subverts it. In the passage that follows, he uses a technique he uses at several other points in the novel, where he presents an alternate version of events and then counters it with reality.

“Don’t forget the kid was an aspiring actor. And, frankly, this was his only role, which he tirelessly and meticulously rehearsed over the years—until he honed it to perfection. Then, one day, staring at himself in the mirror, he could see no trace of the kid. Someone else was staring back at him.”

Elliot has finally shared his personal history with the reader but is only able to do so by referring to himself in the third person. This passage denotes his transformation from “the kid” to Elliot Chase, a conscious decision to leave the past behind. Although Elliot fell in love with the theater as an escape, he also sees the value of acting in real life, once again Understanding the World Through Story.

“It was, as Mr. Valentine Levy might have put it, the conclusions of a deeply cherished goal on my part. And what was that goal? To be loved, of course. I finally felt loved. Lana and I were meant to be together. This was clear to me now. This was deeper than anything I ever imagined. This was my destiny.”

Elliot has worked his way into Lana’s life and is now in her home nearly every day. As someone with a childhood of neglect and abuse, the warmth and connection of Lana and her home captivate him. From there, Elliot makes the leap to believing that Lana is his destiny, a belief he will use to justify his schemes.

“In the end, it seems that Kate, too, was a romantic. And that is precisely what she and Lana, so different in every other regard, had in common. They both believed in love. Which, as you shall see, proved their downfall.”

Lana and Kate differ in nearly every respect—in fact, Elliot establishes Kate as Lana’s foil. However, on this one point, they are the same, and being romantic means that they behave unpredictably to Elliot, who is not a romantic. Elliot considers this romanticism in both women to be their tragic flaw, but their romanticism, especially Lana’s refusal to give up Jason, which Elliot didn’t anticipate, is actually one of the elements of his own downfall.

“From then on, I followed my dramatic instinct. Seeing Lana lying there, in a pool of blood, with Leo, hysterical at her side, I found it easy to get caught up in the drama. It felt surprisingly clear, in fact. I see now that’s exactly where I took a wrong turn in my thinking. I didn’t anticipate how real it would feel. I got so caught up with the twists and turns of the plot, I didn’t think of how it would affect everyone emotionally—and that, therefore, people might react in highly unpredictable ways. You might say I forgot my most fundamental rule: character is plot.”

Whereas Elliot usually views real life through the filter of story, in this case, the scenario is reversed. He knows that the scene is staged and yet gets caught up in how real it feels. This is the moment when he realizes the flaw in his plan and himself—his method of Understanding the World Through Story doesn’t account for real people and their unpredictable ways.

“Lana’s response, when it came, was brutal. She laughed. A cold hard laugh, like a slap in the face. ‘And then what?’ she said. ‘Fall down the stairs, like Barbara West?’ I felt like I’d been punched. I stared at her, stunned. I felt—well, you know me as well as anyone, by now—you can imagine how I felt. I didn’t trust myself to speak.”

Lana’s cruel reaction is out of character, as the reader understands her through Elliot’s perspective. However, it is also a glimpse of a more three-dimensional character and foreshadows the reveal of her own scheme. Although Elliot implies that he is hurt by her accusation, the final sentences could also be read as the shock of Lana knowing the truth about Barbara’s death.

“I had butterflies in my stomach, the way you do on a first night. It felt thrilling to have done all this: written this drama, not with pen and paper, for fictional characters on a stage—but for real people, in a real place. All of them, performing in a play they had no idea they were in. In a way, it was Art. I really believed that.”

Elliot has reached the logical conclusion of Understanding the World Through Story—he is watching the scene he scripted, where Kate faces Jason on the jetty with a loaded gun, and he is banking on Kate pulling the trigger. He has dehumanized them into his imagined characters, and he has now elevated his murderous scheme to the level of Art, with a capital A. At this point, he is supremely confident in his control of the scene, just before Lana’s larger plot is revealed.

“And then, peering at me in the dim light, Lana experienced a life-changing moment of clarity. She understood that not only did she love me; but she had always loved me. Not with the mad passion that Jason inspired in her, perhaps; but with something quieter, more lasting—and deeper. A great love, a true love, born of mutual respect, and repeated acts of kindness.”

Elliot is describing how Lana feels when she wakes up on Elliot’s couch the morning after discovering Jason’s affair. In this scene, however, Elliot is asleep, and anything Lana might have thought is completely unknown to him. This is Elliot’s fantasy of Lana’s thoughts—even after Lana betrays him, Elliot is still trying to find a way to rationalize what happened.

“But I must go on—I have no choice. This has been looming over me from the start, casting its shadow on me, ever since I first sat down to tell you this story. You see, my portrait is not complete. Not yet. It needs a few details filled in. A few final brushstrokes here and there, to finish it. Strange, I used that word—portrait. I suppose it is a portrait. But of whom? Initially, I thought it was a portrait of Lana. But now, I’m beginning to suspect it’s of me. Which is a frightening thought.”

Elliot is left alone on the beach—Lana’s plan has been executed, and his story is getting more uncomfortable and difficult to tell. That doesn’t mean, however, that he stops consciously shaping the story. With his reference to a “portrait,” Elliot once again elevates his work, this time the story he is telling, to the level of art. In addition, Elliot has finally realized that by confiding his story to the reader, no matter how he tried to represent things, the story told just as much about the writer.