The Thorn Birds

“Meggie did not weep. Something in her little soul was old enough and women enough to feel the irresistible, stinging joy of being needed.” 

While Meggie comforts her much older brother Frank, she does not cry herself. Instead, she allows him to weep, his head resting on her body, and she strokes his hair to soothe him. She feels a pleasure in her duty to offer comfort to Frank, and her role as a supporter of men is established. 

“To [Paddy], his religion was a warmth and a consolation; but to the rest of his family it was something rooted in fear, a do-it-or-thou-shalt-be-damned compulsion.” 

Paddy, out of nostalgia, welcomes Father Ralph and his Catholicism remembering his childhood in Galway. Ralph’s casual friendliness and approachability confuses the others, who are accustomed to strict, demanding religious figures. They suspect that Ralph has arrived to lecture and to judge, so they dare not speak to him. Eventually, for better or worse, the Cleary family learns to trust Ralph.

“It had to be a thing born in [women], he mused, that peculiar obsession women had for infants.” 

Ralph watches Meggie care for baby Patsy, and he is amazed by how naturally the act of mothering comes to Meggie, herself still a child. This moment foreshadows the existence of Dane, Meggie’s son by Ralph; at this moment, Ralph understands babies only as the object of women’s obsession, not realizing the effect his own baby will have years down the road.  

“And ignorance breeds ignorance; an unawakened body and mind sleep through events which awareness catalogues automatically.” 

Meggie knows nearly nothing about sex and reproduction. At the age of 15, she is ignorant of her own menstrual cycle and the physical acts that are involved in sexual intercourse. Her ignorance causes Meggie to enter into an unhappy marriage with Luke because she mistakenly believes that pressing body parts together is sex.  

“Their mother’s blossoming happiness had affected them deeply […] Until now they had never quite understood how unhappy she must have been all the years they had known her.” 

When the family moves into Mary Carson’s house, Fiona is happier than her children have ever known her to be. Unfortunately, the children blame themselves for her unhappiness prior to the move. Fiona’s happiness is short-lived; soon after the move, Fiona learns of Frank’s imprisonment, and the grief she feels transforms her into the mother the children remember. 

“Perhaps no human being is equipped to judge which is worse: inchoate longing with its attendant restlessness and irritability, or specific desire with its willful drive to achieve the desire.” 

Meggie pines for Ralph without knowing what she wants from him. Ralph pines for Meggie in a similar way, restricted by the laws of the Catholic Church. Desire leaves both feeling frustrated from the lack of fulfillment. 

“‘What’s a daughter? Just a reminder of the pain, a younger version of oneself who will do all the things one has done, cry the same tears […] It’s her sons a mother remembers.’” 

Ralph knows that Fiona disregards Meggie, so he implores Fiona to pay her daughter more attention. Fiona, however, believes that a woman’s dismal fate is set from birth, and she has no interest in Meggie, believing that she already knows Meggie’s story. At first, Fiona’s pride is in her sons. However, when Meggie returns to Drogheda with her children, Fiona finally understands the value of her daughter.

“He rode through life without an idea in his head about its complexity or pain.”

This quote sums up Meggie’s assessment of Luke O’Neill. Meggie first notices that Luke bears a striking physical resemblance to Ralph, but she soon realizes that the great difference between the two men is one of character. Luke is oblivious to anything beyond his own needs and desires, whereas Ralph is more sensitive to the situations of others. Ironically, Ralph, like Luke, often thinks only of himself, but Meggie does not become aware of his flaws for many years. 

“A man who could do this and not only survive but like it was a man. He wondered if the King of England could say as much.” 

Luke boasts to himself about his skill and his enjoyment of his work. For him, endurance and survival are an indication masculinity. Industrious to the point of foolishness, Luke wants nothing more than to show the world that he is a real man. 

“In his way he was no better than Luke. Off after some male thing with never the time or the inclination to put a woman ahead of it.” 

This quote contains Anne Mueller’s appraisal of Ralph, who has come to North Queensland looking for Meggie. She is not sure what is best for Meggie, and she wonders how the two men in Meggie’s life differ from each other. To Anne, Luke’s ambition for wealth and Ralph’s ambition for religious prestige mean that the two men have more in common than Meggie is prepared to admit. 

“Man must be an unnatural predator, but there were too few men, too many rabbits.” 

The harshness of the Australian landscape makes life for humans difficult, but the rabbit population appears to thrive. The mournful tone of this quote suggests that perhaps humans do not belong on the landscape. The attempts of men to control and manage nature often backfires, as evidenced by the tragic death of Paddy during a lightning storm.

“‘Humility was the one quality you lacked, and it is the very quality which makes a good saint—or a great man. Until you leave the matter of forgiveness to God, you will not have acquired humility.’” 

Cardinal Vittorio, having heard Ralph’s informal confession to having broken his vow of chastity, insists that Ralph is arrogant for feeling the need to forgive himself; true forgiveness is not within his power, but in God’s hands. 

“This precious little scrap was going to was going to steal her son away from her, and there was no way she could avert it.” 

Meggie announces that Justine, at age four, will have to take care of her brother Dane and act as his mother. Unaware that she is repeating her mother’s pattern, Meggie resents Justine for taking on this task so willingly. In the end, Justine does not take Dane away from Meggie; God, as represented by the Catholic Church, does.     

“And there were those whose wounds weren’t visible, but whose scars went just as deep; who had gone off gaily, eager and laughing, but came home quietly, said little, and laughed only rarely.” 

When World War II ends, many soldiers return to Australia, some with serious physical ailments. Others, however, have returned home with no physical injuries, living instead with psychological damage as a result of their role in the horrors of war. The changes in the men, in either case, are tragic to witness. Though the men appear able-bodied, in some cases, their mental health is poor.  

“I enjoy you, Meggie, in a way I can never enjoy my sons. A daughter’s an equal. Sons are […] just defenseless dolls we set up to knock down at our leisure.” 

After decades of disregard, Fiona finally tells Meggie that she appreciates her, having learned that her sons bring her little solace. In her old age, Fiona reveals herself to be a more dynamic character than the early chapters of novel suggest. Both she and Meggie mature into wise characters capable of change just in time for them to support each other. 

“‘We are what we are, that’s all. Like the old Celtic legend of the bird with the thorn in its breast, singing its heart out and dying.’” 

Meggie offers these words of wisdom to Ralph, revealing her mature acceptance of their circumstances. Ralph is torn between his love for Meggie and his devotion to the Church, but he is unable to understand why he is in such spiritual agony. Meggie understands better than Ralph that pain can create beauty and that beauty is sometimes the result of pain. 

“No man sees himself in a mirror as he really is, nor any woman.” 

The truth of this statement is most apparent in a moment of dramatic irony when Ralph observes Dane, his biological son, and senses a familiarity in Dane. Incredibly, Ralph does not notice Dane’s physical resemblance to himself, and he dismisses this sensation of familiarity as mere coincidence. Other characters in the novel comment on the clear physical resemblance, indicating to the reader that Dane’s parentage is obvious to everyone but Ralph. 

“Men were bad enough, but at least they had that spice of intrinsic difference.” 

While living in Sydney, Justine notices that her neighbors are lesbians. Though she does not find their relationship shocking on a moral level, the fact that they are drawn to each other romantically in the first place confuses her. Justine’s immature preconceptions of other people and their relationships bolster her arrogant, inflated sense of self. 

“My God, it’s all over! The babyhood, the boyhood. He’s a man. Pride, resentment, a female melting at the quick, a terrific consciousness of some impending tragedy, anger, adoration, sadness; all these and more Meggie felt, looking up at her son.” 

Dane is now 18, and he has outgrown his need for his mother. With mixed emotions, Meggie accepts that Dane is an autonomous individual, completely separate from her. The sense of tragedy that Meggie experiences at this moment foreshadows Meggie’s loss of Dane, first to the Catholic Church when he is ordained as a priest and then to death, when he drowns. 

“Too, it was a kind of ironic perversity that someone so wonderfully endowed with beauty should deem it a crippling handicap, and deplore its existence.” 

Justine feels that Dane’s intention to become a priest is ridiculous. To Justine, Dane’s physical attractiveness is wasted on the priesthood. As a stage actor whose career depends on her appearance, Justine’s opinions are consistent with her personality and her career decisions. 

‘Then God’s a bigger poofter than Sweet Willie.’”

When Martha, an actress friend of Justine, tries to seduce Dane, he turns her down, and Martha assumes Dane is gay. Justine explains that that Dane is not like Sweet Willie, one of their openly gay friends. Dane’s love is for God, and Martha’s tongue-in-cheek accusation implies that God is gay. Justine’s explanation reminds Martha that, as far as God and the Church are concerned, women are second-class citizens. 

“Meggie stared at them silently as she put the phone down. This was Drogheda, all that was left. A little cluster of old men and old women, sterile and broken.” 

When Meggie hears the news of Dane’s death, she ponders her surroundings. Her remaining brothers have aged dramatically while she entertains notions of maintaining the vibrancy of the estate with grandchildren. Meggie’s sense of loss is multilayered; she has lost her son, as well as the distant and unlikely hope that he will bring her grandchildren. 

“It was right to dismiss him, right to battle to obliterate every last flicker of desire for him.” 

Dane’s death compels Justine to reject any memory of love or intimacy with Rainer. She punishes herself in this way because her attachment to Rainer kept her in London, so Dane traveled to Greece, and to his death, alone. Burdened with undeserved and useless guilt, Justine wants to surrender to pain, not yet understanding that beauty can coexist with pain.