The Cousins

The Story family might be fictional, but their high expectations and family dysfunction is based on the real world of the upper-class family dynamics. McManus addresses the idea that high expectations are not necessarily bad, but when coupled with low self-esteem and fear of vulnerability, those expectations can drive a person to mental and emotional anguish, including feelings of alienation.

Milly explains that her mother and uncles grew up “riding horses and attending black-tie parties like they were the princess and princes of Gull Cove Island” (20). By using terms like “princess and princes,” McManus transports the reader to a world akin to a fairytale: With great royal titles and money comes the expectation to behave like royalty. The children are expected to behave “appropriately,” always showing strength, virtue, and superior morality. Any failings might lead to public disgrace, which is unacceptable for the centuries-old family name.

Allison’s summer of 1996 shows a brief example of the oppressive nature of family expectations. Her fear of telling her mother about her pregnancy speaks to her constant struggle to earn her mother’s approval: she is terrified of letting her mother down. And her brothers’ conversation reveals that they don’t care about her well-being, only the family’s name. Adam even comments that Allison’s pregnancy would mean that Mildred would “[share] a bastard grandchild with her assistant” (365), a thought that speaks to the sense of superiority he feels as “a Story.” It turns Abraham’s “Family first, always” mantra on its head by showing the dark underbelly of pride and contempt for others.

Allison’s feelings of inadequacy have been noticed by her daughter, even though years have passed since she was disinherited. Milly states that “[her] mother lives at the edge of a Mildred Story-shaped hole” (27). Allison has pushed away everyone she loves—Archer, her husband, and even her own daughter—believing that she never measured up to her mother’s standards. If she can’t please Mildred, then no one else’s opinion of her matters. Allison only heard criticism and high expectations from her mother, no warmth or love. As a result, she tries to recreate the same relationship with her daughter, but Milly resents her mother’s constant scrutiny. For Allison, the damage of her mother’s expectations shaped her entire life, and Milly doesn’t want to fall into the same trap. In the end, there is hope for Milly and her mother to grow closer, especially when Allison admits that Milly has “a sharp mind. [...] And a good heart” (457), and she is proud of her daughter. After so many years of feeling alone and unworthy, Allison learns to see the good in her daughter and herself by extension.

The Story family is divided into two camps: those who take responsibility for their behavior and those who don’t. Allison and Archer, who punished themselves for years after their mother cut them off, turned inward to try to see what they did wrong to anger their mother. Adam and Anders, however, insisted that “there’s not a single thing that [Adam], [his] brothers, or [his] sister ever did to justify this kind of treatment” (44). McManus uses the Story siblings to illustrate how refusal to take responsibility for one’s actions can create a legacy of pain and misery.

When Aubrey learns that her father cheated on her mother and got Aubrey’s swim coach pregnant, she is amazed that her father treats the whole situation like “something that happened to our family, instead of something he caused. Like it was a random natural accident that nobody could have predicted or avoided” (162). Even when Aubrey prompts her father to apologize for what he did to their family, he refuses, telling her that Aubrey can’t possibly understand “the complexity of the situation” (397). Apologizing for infidelity seems like the absolute minimum her father could do, but Adam has spent his entire life believing that he was special and incapable of making mistakes. His narcissistic behavior leads to the ruination of his marriage and his relationship with his daughter, and he still refuses to change his ways and take accountability.

Anders was directly responsible for misleading Jonah North’s parents and convincing them to make bad financial decisions, but he refuses to accept blame for his part in the deal. He tells Jonah that “[his] parents are adults, making decisions about how to manage their money of their own free will. Stop shifting blame. It’s pathetic” (333). It is ironic that Anders, who has a lifelong habit of shifting blame to others, would offer this kind of advice to Jonah. But as much as Jonah hates Anders, he eventually admits that he has a point. Jonah’s family lawyer tells them that they can’t undo what was done, but they can “dig [themselves] out and move on” (336-37). Jonah learns that accepting blame doesn’t mean torturing yourself: being accountable for their actions can give people the power to move on and grow wiser. While people like Jonah and his parents decide to learn from their mistakes, Anders and Adam refuse to acknowledge their mistakes at all, leaving them and those around them in a permanent state of misery.