The Unfortunate Side Effects of Heartbreak and Magic

“And there he stood. A delicious memory brought to life. Her stomach dipped and knotted—and it all came rushing back. It was the satisfying crunch of a sharp knife cutting through ripe watermelon. It was green citronella spirals burning down and sunscreen squirting hot out of the tube. It was banana pancakes on repeat and the gang of river silt clinging to tanned skin. It was summer. And freedom. And youth. And heartbreak so hot it cauterized.”

The return of Jake, Sadie’s first heartbreak, elicits an array of sensory memories.. The summer sensations here impact all five senses, including tactile and scent memories as well as auditory and visual ones to evoke the experience of summer, youth, and love. The metaphor, “heartbreak so hot it cauterized,” characterizes the intensity of Sadie’s heartbreak through an image of physical pain.

“Sadie’s whole body went numb. There as a pressure in her ears that made everything muted. ‘It’s stage four,’ Gigi continued, and Sadie’s heart constricted. ‘I’m an old broad—I’ve lived a long time. I couldn’t ask for anything more.’ Her tone was sure as summer rain as Sadie’s world started falling apart. She didn’t move. Couldn’t. The dirty C word. Cancer.”

Randall uses dialogue to build suspense through the gradual reveal of Gigi’s cancer diagnosis. Gigi mentions “stage four,” before the word cancer is used. Randall also includes descriptions of Sadie’s panic and Gigi’s sense of calm before the diagnosis is clarified in the passage. The passage is experiential for the reader, as they begin to suspect cancer then realize it as Sadie does.

“‘There’ll come a time when people figure you out, and they’ll get sick and tired of the way you take and take without ever loving in return.’ ‘I don’t just take! I give! That’s why my magic is so important; I help people,’ she insisted. ‘Helping people isn’t the same as loving them, Sadie.’”

This memory of Seth and Sadie’s last argument before he left characterizes both twins and emphasizes the novel’s theme of The Danger of Guarding Against Heartbreak. Sadie is unable to separate magic from her identity and uses her ability to help people as a shield against real connection. Seth’s comment characterizes him as insightful and foreshadows the lessons Sadie will learn over the course of the novel: that love is worth the risk of heartbreak and that she is more than her magic.

“Her eyes glanced to the wooden sign hanging from the walkway out front: ‘A Peach in Thyme.’ It had sounded innocuous enough when she came up with it. Peaches for Jake. Thyme for courage. Leaving one and embarking on the other. She had spent hours hand-drawing the logo: a full, ripe peach in the background, with another peach in front, cut in half so the pit was showing. ‘A Peach in Thyme’ curved over the peaches while ‘Café and Bakery’ curved underneath. And on either side were the sprigs of thyme that were so lifelike you could almost smell the fragrant herb. Now that logo seemed like a beacon that had led him directly back into her life.”

Randall provides specific description of the logo to characterize Sadie’s love for the café and the extent to which her heartbreak has affected her. The small-town atmosphere is important to the novel, and vivid descriptive passages contribute to the specificity of the novel’s visual setting.

“The air was damp, and the crickets were louder here. She wished they were loud enough to drown out the sound of her beathing heart. Her eyes trained on the lily pads, swaying sleepily on top of the water. Drifted to the brush along the shore and the blackberry bushes farther up. Remembered her and Seth spending hours picking berries and going home with purple tongues and pricked fingers and baskets nearly empty. If only she could let go of the past the way other people seemed able to. Maybe the future wouldn’t be quite so terrifying. But memories lived forever in Sadie. Indelible. The good and the bad.”

This vivid description of the landscape of Poppy Meadows parallels Sadie’s emotional state, particularly in Sadie’s wish that the sound of the crickets would drown out her frantic heartbeat. Through Sadie’s memory of picking berries with Seth, Randall characterizes Sadie’s inability to let go of the past.

“Sadie was too stunned to believe her. It was like a puzzle piece had fallen into place. But the picture still didn’t make sense. Some of the pieces were turned over, just blobs of brown in a sea of color. Other pieces were mangled or missing, but the image, blurry though it may be, spoke to Sadie of a truth long harbored in the dark recesses of her heart. Maybe she really wasn’t supposed to be here after all. Maybe that’s why everyone left. Maybe that’s why her curse was one of four heartbreaks. She was swimming against a tide of fate.”

Randall uses an extended simile of the story Gigi has just told (about Florence’s past and Julian’s murder) as a puzzle to characterize Sadie’s gradual acceptance of the truth of her fate. The specificity of the color and state of the puzzle pieces represents the complexity of the story and Sadie’s understanding of it.

“‘Your decisions will leave you with a past to make you proud or a future that has too much risk to measure. Make sure you know which one you want.’ Sadie had scoffed at the time, but the more she tried to help fix the broken things, the more she wondered if she was meddling in places she oughtn’t. There always seemed to be an unseen consequence: the heather refused to grow back for weeks; certain animals wouldn’t come near her without hissing or growling; fires refused to light for her until she bathed her hands in goat’s milk and lavender to purify herself; and sometimes, a viscous scent trailed after her that smelled gray as ashen sorrow.”

Sadie’s reflection on Gigi’s advice creates suspense for the progression of the plot and foreshadows the fact that Sadie will have to give up her magic. The long list of items separated by semicolons reflects the complex risks of magic through syntax.

“The nearby foxgloves, a flower symbolizing healing, began to droop in unison. Jake was talking, but she wasn’t listening. The pale pink of the foxgloves reminded her of the Mount Diablo buckwheat that grew on Wild Rose Hill outside of town. It was the one flower she could never get to grow in her garden. Blooming once a year and thought to be extinct by most botanists, it was a powerful symbol of love. More than that, it was said to be the flower that had given Evanora Revelare, her ancestor, her magic. Why hadn’t she thought of it until now?”

Plants symbolize hope throughout the novel. This passage is the most literal example of Randall’s use of plants, as the Mount Diablo buckwheat is something Sadie feels certain will help her save Gigi. The passage is also important because it provides detail about the town and Revelare family history.

“As she stepped out of her beat-up old Subaru in the driveway, the overpowering scent of crushed rosemary reached her, sending a shiver down her spine. She followed the smell to the side gate and nearly collapsed against the post. The line of salt and pennyroyal oil, meant to keep unwanted guests out had been scattered like ashes.”

The periodic destruction of sections of Sadie’s garden is an ominous repeated plot point in the novel. Randall uses word choice and sensory descriptions, like the overpowering scent and Sadie’s near collapse, to emphasize how distraught she is.

“The sun was still cold, the morning breeze rustling through the ponderosas like whispers and secrets as they caught themselves on the sharp points of the pine needles. Anne tuned the heater on and rolled down her window. Warmth and chill played across Sadie’s skin, and Joni Mitchell’s ‘Circle’ blared on the radio. Her hand was out the window, the wind gliding smooth over her fingers, buffeting them like a wave, and she smiled, her head tilted back against the headrest. In that moment, she was happy. And the realization made her guilty, snatching away the slice of joy as sure as the wind whipped it from her fingers, carried away by the undertow until she drew her hand back in, and the lyrics of the song washed over her.”

Randall’s use of allusion in this passage creates a connection between the magical realism of the novel and the reality in which Joni Mitchell’s music exists. Randall includes several allusions to books and films that create similar verisimilitude throughout the novel. This passage is also important because it evokes Sadie’s conflicted emotions, as she feels happiness despite her grief.

“But Gigi kept hanging on, her breathing interrupted by gasping until there was a rattle in her chest that tore Sadie’s heart out. Her grandmother’s spirit had already gone on, she knew, but her body remained, unwilling to relinquish its hold, as stubborn in death as in life. Her heart kept pumping, though slower and slower still. And so finally, moved by some calling within her, Sadie smoothed her grandmother’s hair and folded her hands on her chest. Getting on her knees, she placed her hands on Gigi’s shoulders. ‘It’s okay,’ she whispered to her grandmother, ‘You can let go.’ She murmured the twenty-third psalm, and by the time she’d spoken the last verse, ‘And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever,’ Gigi took her last, shuddering breath. At the same moment, two hummingbirds flew in through the open window and performed an intricate dance over Gigi’s body before flying away. And now, there were thirty days until they had to satisfy the balance of magic, or one of them would pay with their lives.”

Randall uses a metaphor in this passage, describing the death rattle as tearing Sadie’s heart out. Similes are much more common than metaphors throughout the novel, so the shift to a strong metaphor reflects Sadie’s intense grief about Gigi’s imminent death. The passage moves quickly from the bible verse and last breath, to the imagery of the hummingbirds coming in the window, to the meaning of Gigi’s death in relation to the time they have left to satisfy the life debt.

“The first few days after Gigi passed were a fugue best left forgotten. They all mourned differently. Kay with wails and tears. Anne with action. Uncle Brian with a soft kind of sorrow that threatened to overcome him anytime he tried to speak. Tava with words and stories. Seth and Sadie with silence.”

This passage represents the novel’s theme of Familial Grief and Coping with Terminal Illness. Randall uses the metaphor of a musical fugue to suggest the different tones of each family member’s grief.

“Her apologies piled up, a burning mess scattered on the floor between them, charring the wood until the smell of cherries burned Sadie’s nose. Seth, by his own measure, drank in every word of her story. In his eyes, there was nothing to forgive, there was only time lost that he could finally attempt to regain. Sadie’s heart, on the other hand, was like the pile of apologies glowing amber on the floor. The longer Florence spoke, the more Sadie’s teeth set on edge. Every word clawed its way in, establishing roots. Her mother wanted to be a family: that much was clear, though Sadie doubted she’d ever say it. But what was family other than blood? It was time and love and memories. It was arguments and forgiveness and compromise.”

The passage is a significant representation of Seth and Sadie’s divergent reactions to their mother’s return. The use of the metaphor of apologies as a “burning mess scattered on the floor,” “glowing amber” is a visceral representation of Sadie’s mental state. The inclusion of the smell of cherries associates the apologies with Sadie’s focus on food magic.

“Draining the last sip of her now cold coffee, she slipped Gigi’s journal into her purse and then tried to sneak out the front door, doing her best to ignore the chatter filtering out from the kitchen. But the door wouldn’t budge. ‘Stop it,’ she hissed. The doorknob rattled in defiance. ‘Let me out.’ She could feel the grandfather clock watching. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ she warned. But it let out a gong that sounded like an alarm. ‘If you don’t let me out right now, I’ll paint you a hideous orange and never grease your hinges again,’ she whispered furiously. It swung outward immediately just as the last gong of the grandfather clock died away. Sadie saw her mother from the kitchen entryway, the second before the door slammed shut. Her mouth had been open like she was going to call out to her, and Sadie tried to quash the guilt that stuck to her fingers like honey.”

Randall characterizes the domestic setting of the Revelare home, which is anthropomorphized by magic. Sadie’s interaction with the door is both comical and representative of her desperate emotional state. Again, Randall includes a food simile with the “guilt that stuck to [Sadie’s] fingers like honey.”

“The harvest-themed shop windows sparked orange and russet and cream. Mayor Elias must be proud. Though the town itself wasn’t strictly magic, it had been founded by the seven magical families, and that meant there was always a trail of glittering enchantment if you looked close enough. The street lights chatted to each other through secretive winks of light, and the benches would move ever so slightly to track the patches of sunlight, so whoever sat there would always be warm. The townsfolk had grown accustomed to it, never knowing that generations ago, the founding families had spelled the ground and blessed the buildings. Only some of them truly believed in magic, but even for those who didn’t, it believed in them. She took it all in, the gingersnap wind and the stained glass window of the church where she’d first caught sight of Jake all those weeks ago. The prisms of light seemed to whisper to her.”

Setting is very significant to the tone of the novel. Despite high-stakes elements like terminal illness and the life debt, descriptions of the center of the small town, the café, and the Revelare kitchen maintain a cozy atmosphere. This passage epitomizes the magic and whimsical setting, with the autumnal description of the town, including “gingersnap wind.”

“A little later Sadie kicked everyone out of the kitchen so she and Sage could get started baking. With her magic somewhat settled and Sage there to help balance her out, an old, worn calm returned to her. The peace of treading the path from the counter to the fridge and back. Of the feel of flour rubbed between fingers and measuring cups perfectly fit to her hand. Florence asked if she could join, if only to watch and help where needed, and Sadie was comfortable with her place at the counter where she sat next to Raquel. The kitchen was warm, and the air was sweet and the snick of the oven door opening and closing was a Band-Aid over her bruised heart.”

Throughout the novel, Sadie experiences conflict between the negative and positive aspects of her commitment to her routine and the life she loves in Poppy Meadows. This passage provides a sensory description of the homey, healing aspects of Sadie’s cooking routine. Randall uses polysyndeton—repeated, parallel clauses beginning with “and”—in the last sentence of the paragraph to suggest the comforting repetitiveness of cooking.

“4. Bake for about an hour or so until the pecans are toasty brown, or if you want to be precise about it, until the center is 200°F—that’s what Sadie tells me. It’s supposed to cool for 2 hours, but that girl can’t wait more than 15 minutes before biting into it, and she burns her damn mouth every time, that stinker.”

This passage is an example of the inclusion of Gigi’s voice in the recipe interludes. The cursing and affectionate teasing of Sadie within the recipe description characterizes their close relationship and how important baking together is to it.

“It was seven days before the full moon, and Gigi’s letter was following her everywhere. And she kept steadfastly ignoring it. She’d memorized it, anyway. Shen she got back from a walk to the garden, it was waiting for her on the back steps. When she got out of the shower, it was there on the counter, its edges curled from the steam like a finger beckoning her. When she opened a drawer to pull out her favorite socks, the letter was underneath. She finally had enough when she opened the sugar cannister for her tea and the letter was curled, like a scroll, inside.”

Due to the use of metaphors and magic throughout the text, Randall involves the reader in a process of questioning whether certain events and descriptions are magical or metaphorical. For example, the first two sentences of this passage suggest that the letter is following Sadie in a metaphorical sense due to its presence in her thoughts. However, the physical descriptions of where the letter actually appears confirm that the letter is literally following Sadie through magic. Randall thus accomplishes a playful, whimsical tone in which magic appears in both banal and important moments.

“She thought of knocking but wasn’t ready to face either Jake or Bethany. Maybe that made her a coward. But a trail of hope followed her all the way home. It tasted bright and pure like the first piece of stocking candy on Christmas morning or the sleepy thoughts you have right before you fall asleep. It was hope for Jake to find the truth; for Bethany to love herself enough not to have to lie to keep someone; for Seth’s life; for a relationship with her mother. Hope was a dangerous thing. It was flighty and sharp and wicked in the way it made you dream. But it was also a wild force, a flicker in the dark that helped you face the endless night until the world turned right again. Even if it wasn’t right in the same way. It was new. And though new could be terrifying, it could be beautiful too.”

Randall uses a food simile to characterize the hope Sadie feels. The choice of Christmas morning stocking candy connotes joy and childhood, which contrasts her description of hope as a dangerous thing. Randall therefore characterizes hope as complex and layered through Sadie’s experience of it.

“Sadie taught them, as Gigi had taught her, how to stew the dried lotus seeds until soft, and then they took turns mashing them by hand into a fine paste. After being watered down and passed through a sieve and into cheesecloth, they squeezed the mixture dry until it resembled a crumbly paste, then added sugar, honey, and sunflower oil to produce a smooth, sweet substance that paired perfectly with the pastry dough. ‘Lotus seeds grow through muddy water,’ Sadie told Sage. ‘But even though its beginnings are dirty, they grow spectacularly beautiful flowers. That’s why they symbolize spiritual growth and will help the eater overcome obstacles.’”

This passage is an example of the use of plants as a symbol of hope. In particular, the specific symbolism of the lotus flowers is of growth in spite of obstacles. Sadie’s trajectory as a character mirrors this path. The passage also blends the more abstract, metaphorical elements of the lotus symbolism with the specific description of their preparation in a cooking capacity.

“This is sure to bring joy back into the lives of those who eat it. Don’t have too much, though, because when your life is full of blessings, you tend to forget gratitude. And that right there is the key to keeping a happy life.”

Gigi’s voice and wisdom is present in this introduction to the interlude recipe for orange-infused honey. These sections characterize Gigi as well as her relationship with Sadie. Because the interludes occur throughout the novel, including after Gigi’s death, Randall involves the reader in the experience of reading something written by a family member who is no longer living.

“‘Won’t it drain you?’ Seth demanded. For the first time in as long as she could remember, he sounded scared. ‘We’ll be linked. You’ll have double the magic, but we’ll be united as one. All of our magic—together. And when my magic separates and leaves you, the curse won’t know the difference between magic and life. The debt will be fulfilled.’ ‘That didn’t really answer my question,’ Seth said in a shaky voice. ‘I’ll be fine.’”

Randall uses dialogue to explain the process of the ritual to erase the life debt. At the same time, this passage characterizes Seth and Sadie’s relationship through the way they communicate. Sadie focuses on fixing the problem, and Seth comes back to his fear that the ritual will harm her as well as removing her magic.

“She’d spent more than half her life in fear of heartbreak, reveling instead in being strange, different, latching onto the Revelare name like she had no other identity. And for the longest time, perhaps she hadn’t. Her days had been structured around order and tradition, control and fear. Now, the unknown settled into her bones like adventure instead of panic. She’d only ever trusted her magic. Now it was time to trust herself.”

Randall uses short, declarative sentences at the end of this passage. They represent Sadie’s certainty that she needs to discover her identity outside of magic through syntax.