A Week in Winter

Like Chicky, Rigger leaves his birth name, Richard Anthony, behind and adopts a new one to fit the identity that he grows into. He initially has an underprivileged life, though one with the unwavering support of his mother and his uncle, Nasey. Rigger’s attraction to crime may stem from a need for acceptance and validation, as his early years were somewhat characterized by his relationship to his lower-class upbringing. To this end, engaging in increasingly criminal activities is a way for Rigger to reclaim power over his own life. However, jeopardizing Nasey’s security and employment becomes a turning point for Rigger, and he begins, albeit in small ways, to see the world from a different perspective: “‘Will you get into any trouble?’ Rigger asked. It was the first hint that he might care for anyone other than himself” (46). This moment marks the start of his journey of Healing and Redemption, which he embarks on more fully once removed from Dublin and situated in a small coastal village. In this new setting, he undergoes a gestation-rebirth process similar to what Lillian experiences later on. A momentary point of upheaval comes when he becomes involved with a girl above his station, resulting in a teenage pregnancy and a flurry of panic. This test, however, provides him with an opportunity to demonstrate his growth and leads to his ultimate reward: a home and a loving family of his own. By overcoming his weaknesses and engaging with something bigger than himself, he is able to develop into a mature and balanced young man.

Orla is a modern, tech-savvy young woman who stands in juxtaposition to Chicky’s outdated ways. Orla’s time in London, as well as her exposure to the forward-thinking Miss Daly, encourage her to seek out new and innovative ways of thinking that are sometimes frowned upon by her family in Stoneybridge. Unlike Chicky and some of the other women in the novel, Orla decidedly doesn’t allow herself to be led around by love; instead, she stands up for her own interests, as she demonstrates when confronted with sexual exploitation at work. She also exhibits her personal power when protecting Stone House from the dishonest intentions of the interior designers Howard and Barbara. While Orla is initially resistant to returning to Stoneybridge, she eventually agrees as a way to enhance her experience and skills. Of all the guests at Stone House, Orla most connects with John; although they are of two different generations and very different social constructs, they find a sense of solidarity in each other. She encourages John to embrace his fame and enjoy his life more, while Orla herself agrees to be more open to what life has to offer.

Winnie is an optimistic, professional woman in her mid-thirties who, at the start of the novel, has yet to find a stable romantic partner. Although she is not averse to love, she doesn’t despair over the absence of it. Despite the focus on her relationship with her new boyfriend, Teddy, the heart of Winnie’s story is her contentious relationship with his mother, Lillian. Winnie and Lillian both have a deep and loyal love for the same person, but instead of bringing them together, this love initially serves to instigate an antagonistic rivalry. Lillian makes Winnie feel self-conscious about her age, 14 months senior to Teddy, and enacts a performative friendship with Winnie that masks a more sinister undertone. In spite of this behavior, Winnie retains her positive outlook wherever possible and is even able to exercise compassion toward her enemy. Winnie’s refusal to give in to despair is what ultimately carries both women through their period of crisis and turns her antagonist into a true friend.

Corry is another character who has two names in the narrative, a feature that adds to how he encompasses more than anyone else the theme of The Internal Versus External Self. Corry’s life revolves around an artificial persona that he has developed intentionally, through development of craft and targeted attention, in order to achieve his Hollywood dream. As an orphan, Corry developed a somewhat skewed perception of family and family values, leading to a need to create an international family through his work. Ironically, this effort creates a distance and eventually an estrangement from his true family, his wife and daughter. Corry’s later attempt at a family with his second life is even more removed from the heart of family and family values, creating a complete fiction in which his true identity has no place. Shortly before coming to Stone House, his professional life begins unraveling: “for the first time in decades, Corry had to make a career decision based entirely on the need to make money” (160). Once at this point, he is initially unsteady at the prospect of re-entering an authentic life that has become so far removed as to be alien to him. This unease causes an internal collision between worlds. Corry must come to understand that both identities are a part of him, and self-actualization comes not from honoring one or the other but in bringing these selves together in harmony. By the end of his story, he has taken steps to find this balance as he uses his fame to bring happiness to others.

Henry and Nicola are a successful, professional married couple who outwardly portray a covetable upper-middle-class life. They encounter their first major challenge as a couple while dealing with infertility, though they don’t let the problem overshadow the strength of their relationship. Like the other couple central to the story, The Walls, Henry and Nicola have a healthy and balanced relationship that makes them stronger as a whole. However, they find themselves faced with a disproportionate level of trauma in a short period of time: two separate murder-suicides that they carry a sense of responsibility for. In the first, they are bystanders in positions of some authority; in the second, they are directly involved in facilitating the circumstances of the deaths. Even though neither tragedy was the couple’s fault, both Henry and Nicola feel insufficient because of the events. When they come to Stone House, they’re still weighed down by the effects of these traumas and instinctively feel as though they don’t deserve the life they aspire toward. When they meet Dr. Dai, they feel kinship toward him and his own struggles. The doctor’s portrayal of his own healing journey helps the couple see a way forward in their own lives and understand the good that they are capable of.

Like many of the others, Anders is a working professional largely defined by his career. Apart from John, who ended up in Ireland by accident, Anders is the least connected to the natural landscape of the country. He represents a more typical tourist seeking the sort of magic he feels unable to access at home. When he visits with his new Irish friend, John Paul, he laments that such artistic ways of thinking are out of reach for him. However, John Paul subtly implies that this might be a result of Anders’s way of living, rather than his geographical location. Through his story, Anders grows from a predestined prodigal son into his own unique identity. However, the author avoids the oversimplicity of having Anders wish to emulate the Irish people; instead, Anders displays a passion for his traditional Swedish folk instrument, creating a bridge between his experience in Ireland and his experiences back home. This passion for music becomes the turning point in Anders’s self-transformation as he recognizes the limitations of his predetermined path and begins carving out his own.

Ann and Charlie, known collectively throughout the narrative as “The Walls,” are a middle-aged married couple who become distinctive for their strong lasting connection. They support each other in their shared attitudes toward work and particularly in their love for entering contests. Although this practice has brought them a great deal of material wealth (in the form of both objects and experiences), its power comes from its place as a shared activity between two loved ones. They enjoy the practice because it gives them a goal to work toward and an opportunity to prove their intellectual superiority over others. For this reason, they take their loss of the first-place holiday as a personal affront. Initially, they’re unable to appreciate their perfectly pleasant holiday because they feel cheated and insulted by the sleight. When they learn the truth about the first-prize package, they feel that they have in some way outsmarted the victors and reclaimed their personal power. Later, they’re able to display this power to an appropriately appreciative audience, making them feel as though they have regained the control that was taken from them.

Miss Howe is in many ways antithetical to the other characters in the novel, being antagonistic and curmudgeonly to everyone around her. She is a tragic figure who comes close to overcoming her flaws but is ultimately unable to take the final step into redemption. She’s contrasted against Irene as well as other warmhearted characters like Chicky and Carmel by her austerity and inability to form connections with others. Appropriately called “Her Own Worst Enemy” by her colleagues, Miss Howe resists any form of vulnerability, even when such vulnerability could prove rewarding in the broader context. When she does display a brief lapse of intense vulnerability to Carmel, the experience is traumatic enough that Miss Howe removes herself from the situation entirely.