Wicked: Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West

“Frex was distracted. He began to mumble in a general way about the nature of evil. A vacuum set up by the inexplicable absence of the Unnamed God, and into which spiritual poison must rush. A vortex.”

Frex’s fixation on religion is both a strength and a detriment. Frex takes life’s challenges in stride because of his faith, but he is also myopic about his religion, refusing to see how society is changing around him. His religious fervor also results in a savior complex. Here, his religious beliefs lead him to believe that there is a vortex of godlessness surrounding him. But Maguire implies throughout Part 1 that this vortex is the changing tides of society. Frex’s inability to see the signs in front of him foreshadows future conflict.

“This view was the only thing she had seen since leaving the elegant mansion of her family, the only thing she would ever gaze upon again—the windswept surface of Illswater, the distant dark stone cottages and chimneys of Rush Margins on the other side, the hills lying in a torpor beyond. She would go mad; the world was nothing but water and want. If a frolic of elves scampered through the yard she would leap on them for company, for sex, for murder.”

Melena’s crisis stems from a lack of stimulation. Though Melena makes some mistakes, she is battling against very real psychological issues that affect stay-at-home moms who feel abandoned. Her boredom, enforced solitude, and sense of wasted potential all lead to resentment. This resentment is important because it informs the environment in which Elphaba is raised. Maguire uses Melena’s internal conflict to encourage the reader to wonder what Elphaba’s life would have been like if Melena had been more invested in herself and, by extension, her family. In Melena’s narrative, Maguire also explores the potential conflicts that arise when people move into a new culture that they never really adapt to.

“Still she didn’t know him, not the way she knew Frex; she could not see through him as she could most people. She put this down to his majestic bearing, but Nanny, ever watchful, remarked one evening that it was just that his ways were the ways of a Quadling and Melena had never even acknowledged that he came from a different culture than she did.”

This quote emphasizes the very human error of believing we know more about people than we ever possibly could. Melena judges herself as more intelligent than the people around her because she grew up educated, wealthy, and sophisticated. Notably, Turtle Heart is at the opposite end of the spectrum of privilege in Oz. Even so, he is the one person whom Melena finds she can’t crack. In this dynamic, Maguire highlights how people project their desires onto others in a way that feels romantic but can ultimately be dehumanizing. It is not that Melena can’t get to know Turtle Heart; it is that she chooses not to. In a way, this demonstrates how Melena uses Turtle Heart for her own desires, which is reminiscent of how Melena treats her husband and daughter. This, too, is a byproduct of Melena living in a space where she doesn’t belong.

“Galinda didn’t see the verdant world through the glass of the carriage; she saw her own reflection instead. She had the nearsightedness of youth. She reasoned that because she was beautiful she was significant, though what she signified, and to whom, was not clear to her yet.”

Glinda is immediately introduced as a foil to Elphaba. Accustomed to admiration for her beauty and delicate manners, Glinda lives in a bubble of privilege. She is extremely self-aware of her looks, as this quote demonstrates. But while being pretty saves her from the rejection Elphaba faces, it also makes Glinda superficial and ignorant of the wider world around her. Maguire characterizes Glinda’s privilege as a downfall, foreshadowing internal conflict as well as external conflict with Elphaba.

“There was something vulgar about traveling in jewels. As she realized this truth, she codified it into a saying. At the earliest perfect opportunity she would bring it out as proof of her having opinions—and of having traveled. ‘The overdressed traveler betrays more interest in being seen than in seeing,’ she murmured, trying it out, ‘while the true traveler knows that the novel world about her serves as the most appropriate accessory.’ Good, very good.”

This quote exemplifies Glinda’s self-perception. She views herself as someone who should be without serious opinions, who should speak in mottoes that conceal how little she actually knows about the world. This indicates that Glinda has been raised to see herself in superficial terms. While Elphaba has no standing in upper-class circles and can therefore be opinionated, society has taught Glinda to be interesting but not controversial. Glinda prioritizes her social image over her actual intellect, and she also puts other people down to raise herself up. Glinda doesn’t travel in jewels not because she actually believes it’s gauche but because she can’t afford to. In casting a shade over women who flaunt their wealth, Glinda makes herself seem more respectable.

“Odd, isn’t it? I thought all Munchkinlanders were tiny. She’s a proper height, though. I guess they come in a variety of sizes. Oh, are you bothered by the green? Well, it might do you some good, if you let it. If you let it. You affect worldly airs, Galinda, but you don’t know the world yet. I think it’s a lark. Why not? Why ever not?”

Notably, the people who seem unperturbed by Elphaba’s green skin inhabit a similar social rung as Elphaba. For Ama Clutch, who understands firsthand how marginalization feels, Elphaba’s green skin is odd but nothing more than that. She encourages Glinda to open her mind, demonstrating that society has evolved to become more inclusive, but that such values still need to be taught. Glinda may degrade Ama Clutch as a mere nanny, but here Ama demonstrates a social intelligence and compassion that surpasses Glinda’s petty judgments of others.

“It was the we in what we give her: Madame Morrible was binding Galinda into a campaign. They both knew it. Galinda struggled to maintain her autonomy. But she was only seventeen, and she had suffered that same indignity of exclusion in the Main Hall just hours ago. She didn’t know what Madame Morrible could have against Elphaba except the looks of her. But there was something, there was clearly something.”

Glinda is instantly embroiled in the malicious pettiness of other women. As a sheltered teenager, Glinda can sense that Madame Morrible is sucking her into something cruel, but she’s not sure what or why. But Glinda doesn’t feel empowered to stand up for Elphaba or for herself. Madame Morrible knows which girls to hone in on, and Glinda’s superficiality and polite manners make her the ideal girl to use against Elphaba. Notably, this quote highlights the power of tribalism: Glinda doesn’t want to be the odd person out, doesn’t want to be alone or rejected, so she accepts that she must take Madame Morrible’s side no matter what to avoid her own ostracization. When it comes to “us” versus the “other,” it is all too easy to teach young people how to embrace “us” and continue the cycle of othering.

“Elphaba looked like something between an animal and an Animal, like something more than life but not quite Life. There was an expectancy but no intuition, was that it?—like a child who has never remembered having a dream being told to have sweet dreams. You’d almost call it unrefined, but not in a social sense—more in a sense of nature not having done its full job with Elphaba, not quite having managed to make her enough like herself.”

Because of people’s immediate first impressions of Elphaba, her beauty and multifaceted personality are widely ignored. Here, Glinda discovers that there’s more to Elphaba than she previously thought. It is easy to place people into boxes, and Elphaba is not one to fight against the box, perhaps understanding the futility of that endeavor. The fact that Glinda notices that there’s something unfinished about Elphaba indicates the first sparks of sisterhood growing between the two girls. Glinda is perhaps not as superficial as she likes to think; she can indeed see people for who they are or have been. This quote also humanizes Elphaba’s oddness in the context of her upbringing devoid of love and admiration, which is so different from Glinda’s childhood.

“The benefit of Miss Greyling’s clumsiness was that they were not afraid to try for themselves. And she didn’t stint at enthusiasm if a student managed to accomplish the day’s task. The first time Glinda was able to mask a spool of thread with a spell of invisibility, even for a few seconds, Miss Greyling clapped her hands and jumped up and down and broke a heel off her shoe. It was gratifying, and encouraging.”

Glinda begins to find her academic self under the guidance of Miss Greyling. Miss Greyling, who is not as refined as Madame Morrible, is nonetheless an engaging teacher. Glinda is accustomed to gliding through school, but Miss Greyling’s encouragement and willingness to make mistakes in the classroom inspires Glinda to commit herself to her study of sorcery. This proves that Glinda was always capable, but the adults in her life failed to trust or cultivate her intellect.

“Elphaba had an okay voice. He saw the imaginary place she conjured up, a land where injustice and common cruelty and despotic rule and the beggaring fist of drought didn’t work together to hold everyone by the neck. No, he wasn’t giving her credit: Elphaba had a good voice. It was controlled and feeling and not histrionic. He listened through to the end, and the song faded into the hush of a respectful pub. Later, he thought: The melody faded like a rainbow after a storm, or like winds calming down at last; and what was left was calm, and possibility, and relief.”

As people open themselves up to Elphaba, she in turn reveals her many talents and depths of personhood. Here, her singing symbolizes her complex and often traumatic life. Elphaba has the power to move people, but only if they look past her abnormalities and focus on the beauty and meaning in her experiences. This moment in the pub parallels the moment when Glinda realizes Elphaba has her own sort of beauty. It is notably sad that Elphaba keeps so many of her talents hidden, accustomed to so much derision that she avoids exposing any vulnerability until she can fully trust the reception of those emotions.

“‘It’s unbecoming,’ she agreed. ‘A perfect word for my new life. Unbecoming. I who have always been unbecoming am becoming un.’”

Elphaba plays on the word “unbecoming” to assert her new identity. While she used to be perceived as “unbecoming,” as in ugly or strange, now she is becoming “un,” or nothing. This quote emphasizes Elphaba’s extreme independence and her tendency to sacrifice herself for her political ideology. In deconstructing her identity, Elphaba believes that she can achieve true radical social change. But this quote also highlights that Elphaba devotes herself to her cause in part because society has so often rejected her. If Elphaba can become “un,” then she can reject society’s view that she is “unbecoming.” Thus, Elphaba’s new, undercover life in the Emerald City reflects her loneliness and her desire to reject the society that marginalized her. However, through her relationship with Fiyero, Maguire questions if any person can truly deconstruct their self so thoroughly.

“Since your work is terrorism, that’s the most extreme argument for crime I’ve ever heard. You’re eschewing all personal responsibility. It’s as bad as those who sacrifice their personal will into the gloomy morasses of the unknowable will of some unnamable god. If you suppress the idea of personhood then you suppress the notion of individual culpability.”

Fiyero points out a newly developed irony in Elphaba’s characterization. In devoting herself to her political cause, Elphaba effectively creates her own religion out of activism. Her role as an advocate has turned into a mission of violence, which she reasons is acceptable in context of the greater good. This is the same reason often used to validate acts of terrorism or religious wars. Yet Elphaba refuses to see her work as putting her in a position of culpability, to the detriment of her own moral code. Fiyero identifies that she is mistaken about her mission; she cannot create a greater good by shedding her own individualism.

“Was it an accident I saw that, Fiyero wondered, looking at the manager with new eyes. Or is it just that the world unwraps itself to you, again and again, as soon as you are ready to see it anew?”

Fiyero discovers the realities of his world through his relationship with Elphaba, a character development that parallels how Glinda’s mind opening during her friendship with Elphaba. Fiyero, born into privilege, has been largely ignorant of the increasingly despotic nature of Oz. Once Elphaba draws his attention to it, he sees it everywhere. This evokes the very human trait of ignorance. The expression “ignorance is bliss” applied to Fiyero until Elphaba opened his eyes. Sometimes, it only takes one person to show others the real world and therefor effect change.

“And Elphie wasn’t just a different (not to say novel) provincial type—she seemed an advance on the gender, she seemed a different species sometimes.”

Elphaba’s oddities are also her strengths. Her green skin, enraptured mind, and political consciousness set her apart from other women and indeed from other men as well. Elphaba is so distinct and original that she seems superhuman. Fiyero’s impressions of her as unique and strong are not just a product of sex and love. Rather, this is Elphaba’s true power: She is a deeper thinker, fiercer advocate, and more progressive person than most in her society. But Maguire’s use of the terms “gender” and “species” is also notable here. Elphaba’s sex has been in question since her birth, as though she is too strong to be a woman but too weak to be a man. This judgment stems from society’s gender norms and expectations, which Elphaba openly defies. As a woman with green skin, Elphaba can indeed be seen, cruelly, as a different species. But in this quote, Fiyero and Maguire use these words not as insults but as compliments.

“To the grim poor there need be no pour quoi tale about where evil arises; it just arises; it always is. One never learns how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her—is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil? It is at the very least a question of definitions.”

Maguire gives a wink to his reader because his novel is precisely about how the witch becomes wicked. The issue of choice is notable in this quote; the age-old question of whether people are born evil or learn evil is key to understanding Elphaba’s future. Her whole life, Elphaba has been judged as abhorrent. If she becomes fully wicked, is she simply fulfilling this judgment? Is she choosing to reject society by becoming wicked? Or was she always destined to be bad? Furthermore, if evil is a choice, then why would anyone ever choose it? Finally, this quote is notable because the speaker identifies that poor people have more important concerns than the origins of evil, pointing out that judgment and philosophy is a privilege.

“Elphaba had yearned toward Liir, a strange, unhappy compulsion. Who was this boy who lived in her life? Oh, she knew more or less where he came from, but who he was—it seemed to make a difference, for the first time in her life. She had reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. He had twitched it off; he was not used to such a gesture. And she had felt rebuffed.”

Elphaba’s sad relationship with Liir epitomizes the tragic loneliness she inflicts on herself and others. In Elphaba and Liir’s emotional estrangement, Fiyero’s warning that Elphaba ignores the worth in the individual becomes prescient. Elphaba is missing out on a relationship with her son, the product of her love with Fiyero. Liir also misses out on having a mother. He is an emotional, sad, lonely boy who is accustomed to meanness and rejection. Thus, Elphaba continues the cycles of resentment she grew up in. Elphaba dreamed of making Oz a better place, but she misses the opportunity to make life better for her own child. Furthermore, Elphaba’s choice to ignore to the truth of Liir’s identity reveals her hypocrisy, as she has long judged others for embracing ignorance. highlighting Maguire’s theme that love is worth the risk.

“Such a maelstrom had not been known in Oz before. Various terrorist groups claimed credit, especially when news got around that the Wicked Witch of the East—also known as the Eminent Thropp, depending on your political stripe—had been snuffed out.”

This quote captures a major dilemma in Elphaba’s characterization. Though she is the protagonist, she is not always the good guy. She represents the real-world issue of how society determines a terrorist versus a radical political activist. Her characterization depends on each person’s perception without her self-identification. Elphaba has to come to terms with the fact that some people will villainize her, even if she believes that her work is good and worthy for the progress of society. This brings up the question of hero identification. How do we know who the hero of a story is, and who gets to decide?

“But for her part, Glinda had no real inkling that the Witch was implicating herself as Fiyero’s adulterous lover. Glinda was too fussed to listen that closely. The Witch in fact alarmed her a little. It was not just the novelty of seeing her again, but the strange charisma Elphaba possessed, which had always put Glinda in the shade. Also there was the thrill, basis indeterminable, which made Glinda shy, and caused her to rush her words, and to speak in a false high voice like an adolescent. How quickly you could be thrown back to the terrible uncertainty of your youth!”

Even in her happy adult life, Glinda can be brought back to her self-conscious anxieties of adolescence. This quote is relatable for all readers who run into childhood, high school, or college friends after years apart. No matter how much Glinda has developed or found a space for herself, being with Elphaba reignites the shame she felt about her superficiality in the face of Elphaba’s youthful passion for politics. This quote also highlights Glinda as Elphaba’s champion. Glinda will always be impressed by Elphaba and find her a fascinating, exciting person—even when it scares her. While other people find Elphaba intimidating and therefore frightening, Glinda is attracted to the intimidation. This demonstrates Glinda’s own sense of self and her compassion for Elphaba.

“‘I have always felt like a pawn,’ said the Witch. ‘My skin color’s been a curse, my missionary parents made me sober and intense, my school days brought me up against political crimes against Animals, my love life imploded and my lover died, and if I had any life’s work of my own, I haven’t found it yet, except in animal husbandry, if you could call it that.’

‘I’m no pawn,’ said Glinda. ‘I take all the credit in the world for my own foolishness. Good gracious, dear, all of life is a spell. You know that. But you do have some choice.’”

This moment is pivotal to Elphaba’s character development. Glinda and Elphaba are juxtaposed by their separate understandings of how they move in the world. Elphaba believes that things happen to her, while Glinda believes that she makes things happen. This dichotomy is partly due to their disparate privileges. Glinda was raised to believe she is worthy of her success and admiration, but Elphaba was raised to believe the world will continuously hit her down. Part of the story’s tragedy is that if Elphaba could see herself the way Glinda sees her, she may have been able to avoid her tragic life and death. But Elphaba views herself as a victim, though she is a strong pursuer of truth and justice. In a way, this quote makes Glinda more sympathetic, but it also highlights Elphaba’s growing disenfranchisement with life.

“‘Murder is a word used by the sanctimonious,’ he said. ‘It is an expedient expression with which they condemn any courageous action beyond their ken. What I did, what I do, cannot be murder. For, coming from another world, I cannot be held accountable to the silly conventions of a naive civilization. I am beyond that lisping childish recital of wrongs and rights.’ His eyes did not burn as he spoke; they were sunk behind veils of cold blue detachment.”

This quote proves that Elphaba is right about the Wizard: He is the evil antagonist of the story. No matter what political tricks or charms he uses to bend people to his will, at his heart he is a man with no respect for the lives he rules over. Elphaba’s earlier point that evil is “secretive” is exemplified in this quote. It is likely that the Wizard does not typically reveal this attitude to people, but he sees something in Elphaba that lets him be open about his cruelty. He genuinely believes he is better than the people of Oz, and this disregard for other lives is what makes him the cruelest of them all.

“People always did like to talk, didn’t they? That’s why I call myself a witch now: the Wicked Witch of the West, if you want the full glory of it. As long as people are going to call you a lunatic anyway, why not get the benefit of it? It liberates you from convention.”

Elphaba expresses a clear understanding of her public perception. She has reappropriated her public image as wicked to take power away from her critics. If Elphaba calls herself the Wicked Witch of the West, she won’t be hurt by people who label her as wicked, evil, or bad. Elphaba doesn’t seem sad about this characterization, which shows how hardened she has become. Though she has achieved some balance between family and her missions, she still forcibly separates herself from society. She others herself, and therefore keeps her feelings protected, but this also means that she is unable to connect to other people. This is an example of free will: Elphaba chooses to be ostracized and therefore manifests her own isolation.

“I see myself there: the girl witness, wide-eyed as Dorothy. Staring at a world too horrible to comprehend, believing—by dint of ignorance and innocence—that beneath this unbreakable contract of guilt and blame there is always an older contract that may bind and release in a more salutary way. A more ancient precedent of ransom, that we may not always be tormented by our shame. Neither Dorothy nor young Elphaba can speak of this, but the belief of it is in both our faces.”

This quote escalates the tension of Elphaba’s internal conflict in the novel’s final pages. She wants to hate Dorothy, and when she discovers that hating Dorothy is equivalent to hating herself, she forces herself to commit to this resentment. She sees Dorothy as similar to herself in their naïve idealism and marginalization. But Dorothy is more welcomed by society, adored by strangers and new allies alike. Elphaba could have become a hero like Dorothy, but she chose to stick to her principles rather than rehabilitate her reputation. Furthermore, Elphaba projects her fraught and incomplete adolescence onto Dorothy. In Dorothy, Elphaba sees a lost girl who needs support—just as Elphaba did at Dorothy’s age. But this empathy is not entirely truthful, and it is indicative of Elphaba’s declining sense of reason in her final moments.

“If you could take the skewers of religion, those that riddle your frame, make you aware every time you move—if you could withdraw the scimitars of religion from your mental and moral systems—could you even stand? Or do you need religion as, say, the hippos in the Grasslands need the poisonous little parasites within them, to help them digest fiber and pulp? The history of peoples who have shucked off religion isn’t an especially persuasive argument for living without it. Is religion itself—that tired and ironic phrase—the necessary evil?”

Elphaba returns to her childhood teachings on religion. Her whole life, she worked to break through and deconstruct the notions of religion. But with her life dwindling before her, she turns to the all-too-human desperation to think about another realm of holy existence that transcends earthly pain. Elphaba can no longer rely on politics, sorcery, philosophy, or unionism to navigate her problems. In her most dire fears, she reaches out for the moralism of her father in a last-ditch attempt to find a connection with a man she always loved and craved affection from. This quote highlights a major conflict in modern society: How much should we rely on religion, and for what purposes?