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58 pages 1 hour read

Ana Reyes

The House in the Pines

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2023

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Themes

The Power of Stories and Resilience of Imagination

Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of drug/alcohol addiction and psychological/sexual abuse.

The House in the Pines is a meditation on the way imagination and stories shape our experience of the world. Stories help us understand where we come from, influence our relationships, and help us make sense of our experiences. In the wrong hands, however, stories can manipulate reality and identity. Maya has a strong imagination, which makes her vulnerable to Frank’s stories and what Dr. Barry calls magical thinking—the attribution to the supernatural events that are better explained rationally. However, Maya’s imagination is also a gift that makes her a writer, like her father.

Stories are a positive force for Maya and her most important relationships are built on this appreciation. For Maya, stories illuminate a person’s true values. Aubrey and Maya become friends in English class over a shared love of poetry. Maya and Dan similarly connect over their interest in Greek myth. Maya also connects with her parents, especially her father, through stories. Brenda keeps Jairo alive for Maya by telling her about their time together in Guatemala; Maya learns even more through Jairo’s unfinished manuscript. This connection to history, literature, and folklore forms the foundation for Maya’s most important relationships.

However, Maya’s openhearted belief in stories allows Frank to exploit her through mistrust, manipulation, and powerlessness, putting Maya’s personal narrative—about who she is and how she sees the world—under threat. Maya feels that she knows little about her father’s side of the family in Guatemala. Frank preys on this sense of fragmented identity and Maya’s longing for connection with her dead father, which he realizes is also a longing for home:

Maya understood that [Frank] knew the value of a person’s stories. Our personal creation myths, the ones we blow out candles for every year. Maya might as well have handed Frank a key to her head and her heart the day she told him the story of her dead father (185).

Frank uses stories to manipulate. His job in the library allows him to watch Maya as she researches Guatemala; he later uses this information to simulate greater intimacy. Similarly, after learning about Aubrey’s interest in fairy tales, Frank lures Aubrey in with a book suggestion. Most powerfully, he uses stories as a distraction to hypnotize victims (a fantastical element in the novel that has little to do with the actual power of hypnosis in real life), shaping their memories into the narrative he wants.

After Aubrey’s death, Maya’s story comes under threat in a new way as her missing memories and accusations about Frank are perceived as mental illness and medicated with Klonopin. The prescription keeps her thoughts numb and eventually causes difficult withdrawal symptoms. Maya also uses alcohol to help her escape her doubts about her perception of reality. Her search for answers about Aubrey’s death is also an attempt to finally validate her lived experience. In solving these mysteries and recovering her memories from Frank, Maya regains agency over her personal story. As a result, she no longer needs to escape from her imagination. She learns to sleep without anti-anxiety medication, and she begins to write again, working to complete her father’s manuscript.

Construction and Reconstruction of Memory

Maya’s quest to unlock her missing and altered memories is key to solving the mystery of Aubrey’s death. Maya holds the answers inside her, but Frank’s hypnosis has kept them buried in her mind. The House in the Pines explores the construction and reconstruction of Maya’s memory—how Frank’s manipulations falsely shape what Maya thinks happened leading up to Aubrey’s death, and how Maya recovers the reality. The novel mimics this plot element structurally, with chapters moving back and forth between Maya’s present search for answers and her past in the summer Frank killed Aubrey.

Memories are subjective. They are essentially stories we tell about certain events; the narrative can change over time, especially with frequent repetition or with suggestions from other people and sources. Memories are not facts; instead, they are based on our recall of events, which often incorporates other people’s descriptions, false details that plant themselves, and subsequent reflections. When we remember, we are actually reconstructing events from our present, now viewing all of our subconscious edits, additions, and modification to memory as factual.

In the novel, Frank deliberately alters Maya’s memories through hypnosis, leaving gaps in her memories that don’t make sense. Maya’s memories are also shaped by her self-doubt and her fear of others’ disbelief. Dr. Barry blames Maya’s accusations about Frank on “magical thinking,” and tricks of the imagination—seeing patterns that aren’t really there. In lieu of any other rational explanation, Maya comes to accept Dr. Barry’s assessment as the truth. Maya’s unstable perception leaves readers in a similar state of uncertainty about what’s real in the novel.

The novel’s structure emphasizes Maya’s construction and reconstruction of memory. Grief over Aubrey’s death divides Maya’s life “into a Before and an After” (20). In keeping with this psychological effect, the narrative follows two interwoven time frames, which represent this divide: Maya’s summer before college and her visit to Pittsfield to solve Aubrey’s death seven years later. Reyes plays with stylistic expectations, writing the past in the present tense (“Maya drives with the windows down” [43]), and the present in the past tense (“Maya woke with a shrieking headache and a sour, leathery tongue” [48]). This grammatical oddness underscores Maya’s cognitive crisis: At 17, Maya was happy and present in her day-to-day life, while at 25, Maya is stuck in her past, coping with trauma and Klonopin withdrawal, and mentally more distant. The change in tense also emphasizes the process of memory. The present tense shows the original construction of Maya’s memories at 17. At 25, Maya looks back to rebuild her memories to make sense of Cristina and Aubrey’s deaths.

The shifting reaches its climax at the dramatic turning point when Maya unlocks her buried knowledge that Frank’s cabin doesn’t truly exist. Chapter 26 explores Maya’s first visit to Frank’s cabin at 17. First, readers experience the edited memory Frank has planted in her mind. Then, in Chapter 30, readers see the full reconstruction of this same memory as Maya unlocks the truth of what happened. Watching Frank’s manipulation happen makes the violation all the more horrifying.

Recovering From Trauma and Addiction

Maya’s mental health and substance use disorder make her an unreliable narrator, building suspense by questioning if Maya’s experiences are real. Her character arc speaks to larger themes of gender-based trauma and society’s discrediting of women’s experiences. The House in the Pines explores Maya’s recovery from Frank’s psychological abuse, considering why and how society blames mental illness for the mistreatment she and other women in the story report.

Maya’s questionable mental state is established early in the novel. Maya is introduced as prone to delusions and magical thinking, with a family history of mental illness. She is haunted by dreams of Frank’s cabin and thoughts that he wants to kill her—thoughts she keeps at bay with Klonopin, drugs, and alcohol. Readers wonder whether Maya’s search for answers about Frank is simply a mental health crisis from Klonopin withdrawal, with hallucinations and intoxication fueling the patterns Maya sees as evidence. Even Maya frequently questions her own perception of reality, having been told by doctors and her mother that her thoughts are from a psychiatric disorder brought on by grief.

The novel offers a critique of psychiatric treatment of women’s mental health by identifying the true culprits behind Maya’s self-doubt. Though Maya experiments with alcohol and drugs in high school, her paranoia is the direct result of Frank’s abuse and society’s invalidation of her experience. Frank’s manipulation is a form of gender-based violence—Frank, an older man with social and financial power, preys on younger, vulnerable women, including Maya, Aubrey, possibly Ruby, and Cristina. While readers never witness Frank force Maya into sex while under hypnosis, sexual undertones in their exchanges highlight that he could have easily done so. Under hypnosis, Maya suddenly goes from anger to sexual interest: “When she feels his hand on her shoulder, she thinks that he will lead her to the bed. And that she will go” (195). Meanwhile, Maya has limited agency over her body: “Her hand is strangely hard to lift, so he catches it for her” (194). As Frank manipulates Maya’s mind, he claims power over her body and sexuality; he continues the pattern of abuse started by his father, who abused Frank’s mother and Frank, leading to Frank’s mother being diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia.

When Maya comes forward with accusations against Frank, a male detective sides with Frank’s version of the story and warns Maya against “false accusations” since “she could ruin a man’s life that way” (21). The emphasis on women lying about men’s behavior references to real-world dismissals of women’s reports of male abuse and sexual violence (it is an often-used strategy for the defense in rape trials, for example). The role of hypnosis adds further drama to this exchange, as Maya lacks evidence or a rational explanation to prove Frank’s abuse. In response, society blames her experiences on a mental health condition and a doctor prescribes the heavy sedative Klonopin—a dismissal that hearkens to 19th-century catch-all diagnoses of “hysteria” (See: Background). All the while, Maya is denied the support she truly needs—the validation of her experiences; she develops a substance use disorder to escape what she comes to believe are just anxious thoughts. Maya avoids thinking about the events of that summer, leading to unprocessed trauma, growing addiction, and disconnection from her reality and identity.

Maya’s recovery from Klonopin addiction gives her the clarity to pursue answers. The truth about the summer Aubrey died allows Maya to finally process her trauma and find closure. Interestingly, however, the novel still makes it important to Maya to find real evidence to prove her side of the story—without a recording of Frank’s confession, her narrative would still not be believed the way Frank’s was.

Yearning for Home

Like Pixán, the lost boy in Jairo’s unfinished novel, the characters in The House in the Pines are searching for home—a place where they belong and feel safe. But this yearning for belonging makes characters vulnerable to dangerous illusions like Frank’s cabin—the dream of uncomplicated warmth and beauty to escape to from life’s challenges rather than doing the difficult work of establishing identity.

Maya spends the novel trying to find her way back to her true home. Growing up without her father leaves an empty space in Maya’s sense of identity—she doesn’t feel fully connected to either her white or her Guatemalan heritage. Frank grasps Maya’s desire to belong and offers her the chance to circumvent the creation of a real home by retreating to his false cabin. But this dangerous idyll in the woods is a trap: Maya spends the next seven years adrift, with missing memories, addiction, and a questionable grasp on reality. In contrast, Dan’s warm and supportive presence inspires Maya to work on her addictions and reclaim herself. This is not the easy path of escape: Maya must confront feelings of inadequacy when comparing her lack of drive to Dan’s lawyerly calling and her fractured family to his seemingly perfect one. She perseveres; though she has never put much effort into the places she lived, she now decorates to make their living space “feel like home” (4). However, Maya needs to process her trauma before she can truly return to her old, promise-filled self.

Frank also longs for the protection of a true home. Having grown up in an unsafe household with a psychologically abusive father, Frank comes to believe his imaginary cabin is the only safe place he has. This belief underpins his work as a hypnotherapist—he helps his patients build similar retreats in their minds to escape life’s hardships. However, there is danger in this illusion. Like drugs and alcohol, these imaginary idylls distort reality, teaching Frank’s patients to run from their problems rather than find a way to be present in their lives.

These themes are echoed in Jairo’s unfinished manuscript. In Jairo’s novel, Pixán is taken in by strangers in Guatemala City after a car accident leaves him with amnesia. They raise Pixán, but he always feels a longing for the clouds, yearning for the true home he no longer remembers. Maya’s visit to Frank’s cabin is like Pixán’s visit to Guatemala City: She loses her memory and gets trapped in a traumatic state, suffering nightmares and anxious thoughts on and off for seven years. Jairo’s story helps Maya withstand Frank’s assault on her mind in The Whistling Pig. Frank tries to use Maya’s yearning for her father against her once more, hypnotizing her by bringing Jairo back to life in her head. However, Maya now knows that her home is in the real world, where she has labored to reconnect with her mother and boyfriend: “[H]er home was with Dan and her mom and everyone she had, or ever, would love. Home would never be another world, some perfect cabin in the clouds” (279). The work of making a space for herself is difficult, but it is preferable to the passive death Frank’s false cabin offers.

Maya’s journey leads her back to herself. She reclaims her memory, finds her sense of self, and starts to write again, carrying on her father’s legacy. Her first project is giving her father’s work a happy ending: “Maya was going to write Pixán home again” (317). Having found her own way home, back to those she loves and to who she is as a person, Maya can finally follow her dream of sharing her imagination with the world.

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