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Ruth WareA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Leo Buscaglia wrote, “A single rose can be my garden…A single friend my world.” Kate, Thea, Isa and Fatima are each other’s worlds. Their friendship takes precedence in their lives: Even after more than a decade, Kate’s text makes them abandon family, job, and significant others to support each other at Salten. Their unbreakable bond is a central theme of The Lying Game.
The girls’ friendship is born out of their individual needs. Isa is coming from a lonely childhood home: Her mother is terminally ill, her father distracted and remote. She is newly isolated, at boarding school for the first time. Fatima’s parents are away in Pakistan, and Thea’s background, judging from her anorexia, self-destructive behavior, and unwillingness to go home to her angry father, hints at trouble at home. Kate’s mother is dead. The four girls form a tight support group and surrogate family. They strengthen each other and feel that they can solve anything (176).
For Isa, one of the benefits of their friendship is a sense of identity and belonging. Isa gains the approval of Kate and Thea. She gains an outlet for typical teenage experimentation with drinking, drugs, and sex. Isa comments that, with Ambrose, she gains the “father I needed that year” (321). Their friendship satisfies a need, filling loneliness with strong, supportive love. Their bond transcends time and distance. Adult Isa feels overwhelmed with the “heart-shattering realization of how much I love them” (139).
Their instant peer group also confers power and control. The four friends use their bond and their game to set themselves above the other girls at Salten. They mock the other students, bring them down, and bully them. The girls do not allow any other friends into their group. Isa notes that “We were pleased with ourselves, and we had no need for the others, except as targets for our jokes and games” (105). The girls enjoy their superiority and the tantalizing feeling that they are beating the system by running things the way they want; escaping at night, enjoying their contraband, and making everyone else look foolish or ignorant.
Their friendship benefits the lonely girls in many ways, but also harms them. The effect of their exclusivity and the Lying Game results in their isolation. Miss Weatherby is correct when she tells Isa that their close friendship “can close us off from other chances […] can cost us a great deal, in the end” (153). In hindsight, Isa realizes the four were “arrogant and unthinking” (105), and “vile” (159). Other students and the villagers view them, unfavorably, as a “clique” (105). By excluding others, the girls create enemies.
As adults, the four receive their comeuppance. They realize that “both town and gown” (107) ostracize them. At the alumnae dinner, Isa, Kate, Freya, and Thea are the object of gossip from the very students they once mocked. In addition to being emotionally hurtful, the rumors could have the damaging effect of exposing their crime. The villagers’ dislike manifests in rumors about the girls’ relations with Ambrose that persist into their adulthood. The girls’ superiority and higher socio-economic class lead Mary Wren to blackmail them.
For Isa, her tight friendship with Thea, Kate, and Fatima prevents her from bonding with Owen. The lies Isa believes she needs to tell Owen keep her from being emotionally honest with him. Isa engages in what she thinks most married couples practice, a “marital pantomime” (236), or pretend relationship. One of the reasons Isa values her female support group over Owen is because they have a shared past: Isa does not have to hide anything from them. Isa accuses Owen of being selfish in his desire for her attention, but not Kate, who requests the same thing. Isa values her friends over Owen, making it clear that Owen will always come last.
Isa is a storyteller. Not only do Isa and her friends spend years sticking to the “story” they created to cover up their criminal activity (70), Isa spins a story for the reader, presenting herself and her friends the way she wants others to view her. We receive only the information she vets for us. Because of her history of lying, we cannot trust Isa completely: She is an unreliable narrator. Isa also lies to herself. She views her life as a “narrative” (314), and herself as a character, playing the “role” of a mother and lawyer (19). Isa lacks a true sense of self-knowledge.
As a 15-year-old on the train to Salten for the first time, Isa imagines herself splitting in half when the train divides, thinking of herself as two selves that never unify to a healthy whole (11). Isa’s personality does split. Part of her remains “trapped inside my fifteen-year-old self” (350) while the other half plays the role of an adult: carrying out an expected, staid life. Isa is happy to return Salten as an adult and find that “the ghosts of our former selves are real” (79). She quickly reverts to her teenage self: taking up cigarettes again, though her adult self disapproves, and reigniting her attraction to Luc. At Salten House, Isa chooses an identity that is the opposite of the “conscientious schoolgirl” (54) she used to be. In this role, she experiences the most vital and formative moments of her life. As an adult, both loss and guilt haunt her.
Adult Isa is conflicted, and no longer knows who she is. She comments that the “person Ambrose saw and believed in, she doesn’t exist anymore. Perhaps she never did” (77). She throws herself into a career and long-term relationship to maintain a façade of normalcy and separate herself from her past. Isa is insecure with her individual identity. She bases her sense of self on her relationship with Kate, Thea, and Fatima. Isa frequently describes her connection with the others as part of a greater whole: They are inseparable, like a “single living thing” (144). Isa even says, “I can’t tell where I end and the others begin” (144). The girls’ friendship subsumes Isa’s individuality.
For Isa, the loss of Kate’s friendship is like losing a part of herself. Without the intact foursome, Isa feels “the foundations I’ve built my adult self on shifting and creaking” (314). Without the others, Isa feels herself fall apart. We see this in the way Isa avoids introspection. She recognizes that she should have thought more about Ambrose and his death, but instead spent years trying to repress it. The idea of a spa day terrifies Isa because she says she would be “alone with my thoughts” (260).
Isa avoids emotionally committing to her 10-year relationship with Owen. She declares at the beginning of her narrative that she loves him, and that is the truth. But Isa is lying. Owen is a means for Isa to maintain stability in her life. Owen laments that they never talk, indicating he feels that she is emotionally distant from him. Isa admits that their relationship “was built on the lies I’ve been telling myself for the past seventeen years” (312).
Excuses and lies form Isa’s personal narrative. She is skilled at denying truth that makes her look guilty. Isa knows the truth, but if she can convince herself that Owen is to blame for everything, she is guilt-free in their relationship. Isa flirts with accepting blame, then denies it: “Yes, this is my fault. I know that. But it’s not only my fault” (291). When she toys with the idea that Owen is “not completely to blame,” she does an about-fact to convince herself that, “Yes, he’s to blame, of course he is” (287).
Isa is a master manipulator, knowingly turning her lies and wrongdoing into accusations. She admits that “There’s nothing like being in the wrong to make you fight back” (256). Isa projects her own flaws onto others. She accuses Owen of being possessive, quick to anger, and rushing into plans without consulting others while Isa displays all these behaviors. For example, Isa squeezes both her phone and Freya too hard when she gets angry; she is highly possessive of the baby; and rushes back to Salten a moment’s notice, taking Freya with her.
At the end of The Lying Game, Isa declares that “something inside me shifted” (357). She believes that knowing the truth has freed her of guilt and fear. Yet Isa does not show a significant amount of personal growth throughout the novel. While she no longer wants to drink to the toast, “May we never grow old” (56), at novel’s end, Isa continues to play the Lying Game: lying to protect her dead friend and lying to Owen by pretending to love him. Continued lies will always keep Isa from moving towards self-actualization and building a strong individual identity.
Isa is a liar. As a teenager, lying is fun. As an adult, lying affects Isa’s self-identity, her relationship, and her mental state. Lying is a way of life, so much so that Isa does not “think about it much anymore (8). Isa believes that she “lies to survive” (79), but her lies take a toll.
The four friends’ childhood lies about hiding Ambrose’s body are the lies that affect Isa the most, because the truth, she imagines, could cause her to lose Freya, the one soul she loves more than her friends. In addition to this overarching fear, Isa feels guilt as a “weight that is hanging around my neck, threatening to drag me down” (223). Guilt has defined Isa’s life for the past 17 years. Guilt drives the friends to extreme means of coping: Fatima turns to faith, Thea’s drinking and anorexia follow her into her adult years, and Kate remains isolated. Isa spends her adult years creating a “safe” life (261). Isa clings to security and stability as a coping mechanism, and with Freya’s birth, uses the baby to help her avoid thinking of herself, her past, and her guilt. As more of Isa’s past returns to haunt her, Isa’s coping mechanisms fail.
Isa’s guilt manifests physically and emotionally. She begins choking on words and is literally unable to speak the truth: She feels as if something is stuck there, that she “cannot swallow away” (261). Like Lady Macbeth, Isa suffers from nightmares. She feels claustrophobic, trapped in a “web of secrets and lies” (93). Nets and spiderwebs become threatening, imprisoning images. Isa entertains paranoid thoughts about the villagers, Luc, and even her friends. Isa grows reckless: ready to have sex with Luc despite her protestations only moments before. She grows more irritable and quicker to anger. She also knows that she endangers Freya on her—somewhat ironic—quest for the truth.
For Isa, personal truth is the enemy. The “story” (70) is everything. Isa admits that even if she could tell Owen the truth about her life, she does not think she would. If Owen knew the truth about her, Isa says, he might not love her. But that reasoning rings false because Isa does not care if he loves her: She needs him for Freya. Although the truth set Isa free from her guilt and fear, by embracing more lies she risks their return.
By Ruth Ware