42 pages • 1 hour read
Alice HoffmanA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
The aunts have a tradition of making black soap each year, which is supposed to have special beautifying properties: “Maybe it was the black soap she washed with that made her skin seem illuminated; whatever the reason, she was hot to the touch and impossible to ignore” (25). Today, charcoal-based beauty products are popular and can be found in health food stores worldwide. At the book’s publication of 1995, however, these were less common and likely would have been met with both intrigue and suspicion from its target audience—women concerned with beauty and aging. This shows that the aunts are not only ahead of their time but have the modern equivalent of sacred knowledge that is still out of reach for many people.
At the same time, this black soap becomes a symbol of the aunts, the Owens home, and their particular otherness. Once Gillian rejects her heritage, she rejects the black soap even though she once benefited from it. She can’t stand to be reminded of her past, so she throws the soap away as an embodiment of painful memories: “The black soap the aunts send as a present every year has been taken out of the soapdish and has been replaced with a bar of clear, rose-scented soap from France” (82). In this way she is not only distancing herself from their overall aesthetic, but from what they stand for and their way of living.
Despite this otherness, the aunts’ black soap helps guide them into the new world of the future: “Bars of the aunts’ soap […] can be found in health-food stores in Cambridge and in several specialty shops […] this has bought not only a new roof for their old house but a state-of-the-art septic system as well” (261). Coming at the end of the novel when the Owens family finds acceptance, this moment presents the black soap as a symbol of the family themselves becoming celebrated for what makes them different, rather than ostracized.
Animals are a recurring motif throughout the novel, often—surprisingly, given the subject matter—as an antagonistic force. The first place where this relationship is given particular emphasis is when the aunts’ cats follow Sally to school in her early childhood. Prior to this moment, Sally and Gillian have been mocked and bullied by their peers. This day marks a turning point at which the bullying gives way to complete silence and isolation. The school’s inherited suspicion evolves into a deep, primal fear. Although Sally had always had a loving relationship with her cats, she reacts with anger and hatred toward them for subjecting her to further ostracization. This reaction became a source of shame for many years.
Another way in which an animal causes conflict in the Owens’ lives is the yearly tradition of a sparrow flying into the house every midsummer’s eve. Though the family tries to seal it out and chase it away, their efforts are always fruitless. The sparrow symbolizes trouble for the coming year: “As it circled the dining room, the sisters counted, for they knew that three times around signified trouble, and trouble it always was” (24). This symbolism is later echoed in the appearance of the toads that congregate around Jimmy’s grave. One of them brings trouble very literally when it unearths the silver ring that ties the sisters to Jimmy—although, ironically, it also gives them a way out when Gary plants the ring on someone else’s body. In every case, these animals come to be a symbol of the otherness of the Owens women and the uniquely tempestuous relationship they have with the natural world.
The lilacs in Sally’s garden go through a dramatic change as they’re influenced by Jimmy’s spirit (in the film adaptation of Practical Magic, these flowers are reimagined as roses). When they’re first mentioned in the text, they’re benign and singularly unimpressive: “Her own garden is simple and halfhearted, which is just the way she likes it […] a hedge of listless lilacs, some dogwoods, and a small vegetable patch” (61). This creates a sharp contrast when the lilacs become an otherworldly sensation: “In May there were a few droopy buds, but now the lilacs bloom again, out of season and overnight, in a single exquisite rush, bearing flowers so fragrant the air itself turns purple and sweet” (81). They attract both lovelorn neighbors and respected botanists alike, trying to understand their secrets.
While the setup makes it look like the lilacs will be a powerful, fertile, prosperous force, the opposite is true: They’re nourished by the hatred and pain of the man who rests below them and by the toxic love between him and Gillian. Their growth mimics the way love in the novel can bloom in an instant, which is all-encompassing and not necessarily healthy. The way women of the neighborhood are drawn to the lilacs mimics the way women sick with love are drawn to the aunts’ house, reaching for something they believe will make them full. When Sally finally cuts the lilacs down in an act of destruction, it serves as a purge for the Owens family: “That is the moment when they’ll throw their arms around one another and praise simple things and, at long last, consider themselves to be free” (138). In this way, the lilacs come to symbolize the invasive, aggressive power of toxic love.
By Alice Hoffman
Coming-of-Age Journeys
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Community
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Daughters & Sons
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Family
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Jewish American Literature
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Magical Realism
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Religion & Spirituality
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Romance
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Valentine's Day Reads: The Theme of Love
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