(No picture of the character in question - that's the downside of being from a book with no illustrations or film/theatre/TV adaptations.)
Although
the The Goldfinch has a fine
collection of beautifully drawn, well-shaped characters, my hands-down favorite
is Theo’s friend Boris. He’s at once
archetypal and staggeringly unique, and his strong unpredictable streak makes
for excellent drama.
At
first glance, Boris is, narratively speaking, pretty routine. When Theo moves unhappily out to Vegas, Boris
is the one boy with whom Theo really connects, a kinetic wildcard and classic
Bad Influence. With Boris’s
irrepressible encouragement, Theo slides into aimless nights of drinking and
getting high, and the two boys numb their respective struggles in a haze. In adulthood, Boris is the cheerful ne’er-do-well
compared to the seemingly respectable Theo.
(Not really – Theo gets into plenty of trouble on his own, but it’s all
under the surface.)
It’s a
character type most people have seen before, one with a clearly-established function
operating under specific storytelling conventions. However, while Boris’s framework falls into familiar patterns, his details continually defy expectations. He’s a shrewd boy pieced together from a
patchwork of environments; though he’s Russian-Polish by birth, he’s lived all
over the world and had experiences remarkable for his age. His nomadic lifestyle contributes to his
Russianate gestures, his medley of an accent that’s more Australian than
anything else, and his hodgepodge of international knowledge, words, and
aphorisms. He feels very authentically
formed by his experiences. I love the
little touches added to his “page business,” like his disdain for his American
government class, or his habit of bestowing Russian nicknames.
Personality-wise,
Boris is similarly composed of many different threads. He’s audacious, defiant, and reckless. He falls easily, charmingly, into
conversation with just about anyone, and he’s always hungry for
companionship. He’s full of jokes, anecdotes,
and strong opinions. He loves affectionately
and hard with more-than-average ferocity and not-always-typical ways of
expressing that love. He’s almost
incurably impulsive, but he worries greatly over the welfare of those he cares
about. Even when he grows up and gets
involved in shady, dangerous dealings, he maintains his gregarious jocularity
and warmness – I love that about him.
What’s
more, Boris really is a true friend to Theo.
He’s ill-equipped to give Theo that kind of help that he needs, because
Boris is just as screwed up in different ways, but the boys form a sort of “chosen
family” together. Boris looks out for
Theo as much as he’s able, even if, in his mind, that includes teaching Theo
self-sufficiency through shoplifting or plying him with substances necessary to
dull his pain. Their relationship is
intense, messy, and not entirely healthy, but they cling to and lean on one
another, helping each other through their disorienting lives.
(Spoilers
in the last paragraph – be warned.) Finally,
in the second half of the book, Boris demonstrates, despite his extremely
misguided methods, just how well he understands Theo. He initially takes the painting as a joke and
of course gets into all kinds of trouble with it, but his anxiousness to
correct his mistake has nothing to do with the illegality of keeping it, the
civic responsibility of returning it to the gallery, or any potential monetary
reward. No, his chief aim is to give it
back so Theo can hide it under his bed or in closet, so he can look at it
whenever he wants. There’s something so
sweet and lovely in that idea – he gets that Theo needs the painting
intrinsically, at his core, and any other desires, risks, or benefits come
secondary to that need.
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