A Perfect Day for Bananafish Summary & Analysis

Muriel’s preoccupation with grooming herself and tending to the state of her clothes introduces the theme of wealth and materialism—the mention of her blouse from Saks (an upscale department store) and her silk dressing gown suggests that Muriel surrounds herself with nice things. That she prioritizes finishing her manicure over picking up the phone also suggests that she values materialism and appearances over things like connecting with others and valuing their time. On this note, the fact that she’s unhurried in picking up the phone also begins to gesture at the theme of failed communication that runs throughout the story.

When Muriel’s mother asks her daughter if she’s alright, she clearly means whether Muriel is safe—her panicked tone suggests that she thought Muriel had gone missing and was in danger. Muriel misinterprets the question, perhaps willfully, and answers about the weather being uncomfortably warm. Even though Muriel is technically answering her mother’s question, the two aren’t effectively communicating, which is a trend that will mark their entire phone conversation. Meanwhile, Muriel’s mother’s anxiety about the man driving suggests that he was in a car crash in the recent past. But strangely, Muriel’s assurance that he didn’t even look at the trees this time suggests that his last accident was somewhat on purpose, as if he had seen trees and couldn’t resist hitting them. This detail begins painting the man as violent or potentially unhinged, while Muriel’s flippant attitude about him and the accident is another example of her failing to truly engage in conversation.

Here, the man that Muriel and her mother have been talking about is revealed to be Muriel’s husband, Seymour Glass, and Seymour’s nickname for his wife reveals that the story is set in 1948. In this passage, Muriel’s mother is once again concerned about Seymour’s behavior and her daughter’s well-being, while Muriel laughs off her concerns, unwilling or unable to have a conversation about them. Likewise, in calling Muriel “Miss Spiritual Tramp of 1948,” Seymour seems to be criticizing Muriel’s character, suggesting that she doesn’t have a spiritual sensibility or emotional depth to her—that she’s vagrant or beggar spiritually, meaning that spirituality is something she sorely lacks. True to form, though, Muriel is flippant and laughs about the nickname, again unwilling to discuss it more deeply. On another note, the fact that Seymour sent Muriel poems from Germany—coupled with the detail that the story is set in 1948—suggests that Seymour has recently returned from fighting in World War II.

The fact that Seymour sent Muriel the poems and actually expected her to read them—and the fact that Muriel not only failed to read them but also doesn’t even know where she put them—suggests that husband and wife are on completely different planes when it comes to their sensitivity to spiritual things like poetry and philosophy. Meanwhile, Muriel’s mother’s use of the phrase “My word of honor,” coupled with her confirming whether Muriel is listening, again gestures to the theme of communication, as she is doing everything she can to get Muriel’s attention. The mention of Muriel’s father’s conversation with Dr. Sivetski confirms that Seymour indeed fought in World War II and that he is suffering psychologically. At the time, such a condition was called “shell shock” and came to be known as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD, after the Vietnam War.

Once again, Muriel makes light of her mother’s real—and reasonable—concerns for her daughter’s well-being and her son-in-law’s mental state. By focusing on her sunburn and how much she wants to enjoy her vacation, Muriel avoids actually addressing her mother’s fears. Muriel also sends the message that she is far more interested in material things, like ritzy vacations or the appearance of her skin, than her husband’s health. The detail about Seymour playing piano alone points to his spiritual sensibility (besides poetry, he also appreciates music) and is the first indication that he isolates himself from others. The psychiatrist seems to see these two things—Seymour’s piano playing and his willful isolation—as evidence of psychological distress. Muriel characteristically waves this off.

The detail that the psychiatrist spends his days in the bar, coupled with Muriel’s shallow preoccupation with fashion and gossip, reflects the culture of overindulgence and materialism at the resort and in American culture more broadly. While the noisy bar gestures to the idea of failed communication, this passage also suggests that what hinders communication the most is a lack of empathy and understanding; Muriel fails to engage in a real conversation with the psychiatrist or with her mother because she doesn’t empathize with Seymour’s mental agony or her mother’s anxiety.

Even though Muriel and her mother are talking, they aren’t actually communicating with one another. They consistently cut each other off, for one thing, but they also seem to be talking at one another rather than with one another. This is why Muriel’s mother continues to ask if Muriel is alright—she hasn’t gotten a satisfying answer out of her daughter. This passage also provides the only glimpse readers get of the pre-WWII Seymour, whom Muriel apparently felt was worth waiting for. Compared to Seymour’s odd behavior in the present and Muriel’s mother’s pressing concerns about his mental health, it’s clear that the violence of war is what changed him and their relationship.

Although Muriel suggests her mother is over-reacting—that Seymour is far from being a “raving maniac”—she goes on to admit that he has been talking about having an invisible tattoo. This suggests that Muriel’s mother is perhaps not too far off in being extremely concerned for Seymour’s mental health and Muriel’s well-being. Muriel’s mother seems to be worried that Seymour will seriously hurt Muriel, but she uses the euphemism “funny” (e.g., Seymour will do something “funny” to Muriel), which ties into the idea of failed communication, as she doesn’t say exactly what she means. The tattoo Seymour is referring to seems to be connected to the horrible things he’s witnessed or done in war. He doesn’t want people to be able to have insight into these things just by looking at him, which is why he covers up with the bathrobe.

Sybil is clearly referring to Seymour Glass, but Mrs. Carpenter (perhaps understandably) doesn’t pick up on this and instead shushes her daughter. In this way, the mother and daughter’s dynamic isn’t all that different from the one between Muriel and her mother: one party talks, while the other quiets, minimizes, or ignores the discussion. Mrs. Carpenter’s friend prattling on in the background about a scarf is another reminder that the resort guests—and Americans more generally—are materialistic. The detail about Sybil’s bathing suit top not being filled out for another nine years (in other words, she won’t go through puberty for at least nine years) means that she’s around four or five years old.

Throughout the story, feet symbolize the idea that innocence isn’t innocent at all. The story engages with that for the first time in this passage, as little Sybil goes out of her way to destroy a sandcastle with her foot, showing her inherent violence, even though she’s a supposedly innocent child. Meanwhile, Seymour’s knee-jerk reaction to human contact is to pull his bathrobe tighter around his body, which suggests that the robe is a security blanket of sorts. The robe symbolizes his isolation from others—he uses it to feel separate from people—but that he relaxes upon seeing Sybil adds nuance to this, suggesting that he’s really only alienated from other adults, not children.

As the interaction between Sybil and Seymour unfolds, it begins to seem less and less innocent. Seymour touches Sybil on the ankle, seems uninterested in his wife’s whereabouts, and commands Sybil to come closer, which makes Seymour appear vaguely predatory towards the young girl. His mix-up between the colors blue and yellow is also strange; it’s unclear if he does this on purpose just to entertain Sybil and get a rise out of her, or if he is in such a fragile mental state that he really can’t tell the difference. He also furthers the depiction of his wife as materialistic when he suggests that she may be at the hairdresser’s.

Seymour’s possibly inappropriate behavior towards Sybil begins to escalate here, as he goes from touching one of her ankles to clasping both of them. His explanation of what happened between him and Sharon adds weight to this, as he’s framing the situation as if he were justifying cheating on Sybil. Of course, Sybil is around four or five years old, and the story later reveals that Sharon is only three and a half years old—so while Sybil is exhibiting childlike jealousy, Seymour seems to be inappropriately sexualizing his friendship with the children. That Seymour is holding Sybil’s ankles during this interaction is another indication that feet and ankles symbolize how what seems like innocence is often tinged with violence.

It's surprising that Seymour takes his bathrobe off, since Muriel was just explaining to her mother how he refuses to do so because he doesn’t want anyone to look at his (made-up) tattoo. His willingness to disrobe around Sybil suggests that he’s far more comfortable around children than adults. The moment when Seymour asks Sybil where she lives also toes the line between innocent and violent; he taunts her in a childlike way, trying to make Sharon seem smarter or better than Sybil, which immediately makes Sybil cave and reveal where she’s from. While it’s possible that Seymour is just being childlike, he essentially manipulates a young girl into revealing personal information about herself.

The overlap between innocence and violence appears again in this moment. Sybil’s eccentric and excitable questions reveal her childlike curiosity, but Seymour’s comment about “some little girls” who abuse dogs in the lobby suggests that Sybil was precisely this little girl, and that she has a violent streak. While Seymour just compared Sybil with Sharon to make Sybil reveal personal information about herself, which is somewhat predatory, here he uses this tactic for good, implicitly encouraging Sybil to not be so violent and cruel.

Seymour’s story about the titular bananafish seems random and playful, just like Sybil’s own ramblings about things like eating candles. However, given the materialistic culture of the resort (which even his own wife exemplifies), Seymour also seems to be linking the gluttonous bananafish with Americans who have an insatiable appetite for wealth and material goods. That is, they have banana fever, because they are “fevered” or frantic in their gluttony. It’s possible, too, that the bananafish represent soldiers who are regular men when they enter the war but become so overstuffed with violence and trauma that they die a mental, physical, emotional, or even spiritual death.

Once again, feet and ankles are linked with innocence and violence. Leading up to this moment, Seymour’s behavior has escalated from touching Sybil’s ankle to grasping both of them; here, he goes so far as to kiss the arch of Sybil’s foot, which is an intimate and sensitive part of the body. Although this surprises Sybil, it doesn’t seem to register with her that is inappropriate behavior (she is sad to have to go back to shore, and she runs “without regret” back to the hotel). Seymour, however, seems to realize that he’s crossed the line, which is why he immediately insists they go back to shore. While he tried to access innocence through his childlike rapport with Sybil, his own behavior was tinged with violence.

The symbols of the bathrobe and feet collide here. The bathrobe represents the way that Seymour closes himself off from other adults (and the materialistic, violent world they inhabit), which is why he now puts the bathrobe back on as he returns to the resort. Meanwhile, feet represent the idea that innocence is always tinged with violence—an idea that is clearest in the story when Seymour touches and kisses young Sybil’s feet. So in this passage, tightly wrapped in his bathrobe and self-conscious about someone looking at his feet, Seymour seems to be trying to hide his inappropriate interactions with Sybil from others. Of course, it doesn’t make sense that a stranger in an elevator should be able to know what just happened on the beach between Seymour and Sybil just by looking at Seymour’s feet, but his self-consciousness and anxiety surrounding this possibility point to his own guilt.

The smell of the hotel room (nail polish, expensive luggage made from a baby animal) underscores that Muriel is associated with the shallow, materialistic culture that Seymour so despises. Given this, it at first seems like Seymour intends to shoot his wife, since he looks at her frequently as he fetches and loads his gun. The fact that he ultimately shoots himself, though, suggests that he simply can’t stand to live in the shallow, consumeristic world that Muriel represents. Plus, having just lashed out at a woman for supposedly looking at his feet, it seems that Seymour is also deeply disturbed by the way he interacted with Sybil on the beach. In other words, he tried to access innocence and childlike lightness through her, but he ultimately failed, which perhaps made him suicidally distressed.