LitCharts assigns a color and icon to each theme in Code Name Verity, which you can use to track the themes throughout the work.
Friendship
War, Women, and Gender Roles
The Horrors of War
Resistance and Courage
Storytelling
Summary
Analysis
The narrator is supposed to write an account of her interview yesterday, but when is she going to have time to finish her “great dissertation of treason?” They spent a long time trying to make her presentable. They gave her her scarf and blouse back and allowed her to put up her hair with pencil nubs (they don’t trust her with hairpins). Soaking her fingertips in kerosene didn’t get rid of the ink, but it did make her stink—so they let her wash with lovely smelling American soap. Who knows where that came from.
The tension is rising: the narrator desperately wants to finish her account, but she’s running out of time. Von Linden also seems to want the narrator to record things like her interview for posterity, thereby taking her time away from her “dissertation of treason.” This does, however, call into question just what purpose the narrator’s account serves. If it’s just to buy her more time alive, for instance, why is it so important that she finish?
Active
Themes
The narrator writes that they set her up in von Linden’s office with useless documents to translate. The woman, Georgia Penn, was very American. They spoke French, since von Linden doesn’t understand English and Penn doesn’t speak German well. The narrator noted she couldn’t tell Penn her name or what branch of the military she’s serving with. Then, they all sat (well, Engel hovered) and Penn pulled out cigarettes for herself and the narrator. Briskly, she said she was looking for the truth, and in French she said, “Je cherche la verité.” When the narrator asked her to repeat herself in English, Penn said, “I’m looking for verity.” The narrator realized they were all liars, repeated some literary quotations about truth, and said that she’s “the soul of verity.”
It’s unclear why von Linden forbids the narrator from telling Penn her name, but it does allow the narrator to continue to avoid using her name in the account. Penn might be a Nazi sympathizer, but she does seem very interested in taking care of the narrator while she’s here—notice that Engel isn’t offering cigarettes to anyone else, just the narrator. And it’s interesting that as Penn repeats that she’s looking for the truth (which is the literal translation of her French statement), she continues to use the word “verity,” which is a homonym of the French word verité.
Active
Themes
Quotes
With it established that the narrator was going to tell the truth, Penn shared that people call the hotel Le Château des Borreaux, or the castle of butchers. As the narrator smoothed her skirt and her blouse, a Gestapo boy poured cognac for everyone but Engel—and the narrator figured this was a trick, but then pulled herself together and put out her cigarette. She asked to speak in English, and von Linden agreed. Von Linden didn’t want the narrator to talk about the 11 wireless sets in Maddie’s Lysander, so the narrator was a bit confused as to what she could say.
As a prisoner, the narrator doesn’t have much insight into how the locals view the Gestapo. But by sharing what the locals are calling the hotel, Penn reveals that people are not at all happy to have the Gestapo in the neighborhood. For the narrator, seeing Engel not get any cognac reeks of sexism. More generally, it’s not clear exactly what Penn is hoping to find, but at this point, she’s not asking questions that would give her any information about how well the Gestapo are treating the narrator.
Active
Themes
The narrator and Penn talked about cultural differences and how the narrator was captured. Engel also revealed that she (Engel) trained as a chemist in Chicago. Then, after some chatter, the narrator said she isn’t worried about her trial; she’ll be shot, and the Geneva Convention doesn’t protect her since she’s a spy. She knows nothing about the other prisoners and ascertains that Penn has toured some nice floors of the hotel, presumably made up as dummy cells. The Gestapo live and work on the first three floors; the prisoners are on the top three floors (this is underlined).
At least in the interview, when the narrator is basically acting the part of a happy prisoner, she seems to have accepted that she’s going to die when all is said and done. She realizes there’s nothing and no one to protect her—she made a mistake looking the wrong way while crossing the street, and now she’s going to suffer the consequences. Noting that Penn clearly hasn’t gotten a truthful tour of the hotel is one way the narrator can call out her Gestapo readers for not being just as truthful as she’s being.
Penn thanked von Linden for the interview, and then asked the narrator if she could get her things, like sanitary towels. The narrator revealed she’s stopped menstruating, but she’s not pregnant and hasn’t been raped. To readers, the narrator says she hasn’t had a cycle since she left England. Penn remarked that the narrator didn’t look healthy. The narrator remarks to her Gestapo readers that starvation does leave visible marks. Then, suddenly, Penn sloshed her cognac into the narrator’s glass, and the narrator drank it all. She was sick all afternoon.
It seems obvious that the narrator is unwell and has been starved (and this may explain why she’s stopped menstruating, as menstruating requires a certain amount of body fat). And despite her Nazi sympathizer credentials, Penn seems oddly sympathetic and concerned for the narrator—especially when she gives the narrator her cognac. Penn might be more, or something different, than she seems.
The narrator writes that last night, von Linden asked if she’d read Goethe. They debated literature, and as he left, the narrator wished him a good night in French—it’s a quote from an old French document, and she figured he’d read it. He didn’t seem to recognize it. Engel has also revealed that before the war, von Linden was a headmaster. He also has a daughter a bit younger than the narrator, who’s in school in Switzerland. The narrator still isn’t convinced he has a soul; any married man can father a daughter.
Learning about von Linden’s life before the war humanizes him a bit—but it also makes him seem more monstrous. He has a daughter and once cared for young boys and their education, but now he’s being paid to torture young people like the narrator. For the narrator, it doesn’t make much sense that such a seemingly upstanding man could engage in such evil, which is why she’s not convinced he has a soul.