When Eleanor and Park first start interacting on the bus to school, they bond over comic books as Eleanor reads Watchmen, Batman, and others silently over Park’s shoulder when they’re forced, by chance, to sit together. Slowly and wordlessly, Park begins allowing Eleanor to read with him, and then brings her comic books of her own to read. When Eleanor expresses frustration with the comics, though, the two begin talking about music—and find that they never run out of feelings to discuss and bond over when it comes to the punk, new-wave, and shoegaze anthems of the mid-80s they so love. Park begins making mix tapes for Eleanor and bringing her batteries so that she won’t run out of juice while she listens at home each night to songs he’s chosen for her. Eleanor’s home life is a mess, and listening to the music Park curates for her is her only chance at escaping her needy siblings, her fawning, battered mother Sabrina, and her cruel stepfather Richie. Through music, she can feel farther from herself—but closer to Park. For Park, however, music is less an escape and more a way of being even more present in the world and in his own skin. As Park wrestles with his feelings of inadequacy and otherness, music allows him a way to discover his identity by emulating the style of the members of bands like The Smiths and The Cure. Music, then, is a complex and mutable symbol throughout the novel, but ultimately emerges as a symbol of connection—connection between people, but also connection with one’s deeper, hidden self.
Music Quotes in Eleanor and Park
"So," [Park] said, before he knew what to say next. "You like the Smiths?" He was careful not to blow his morning breath on [Eleanor.]
She looked up, surprised. Maybe confused. He pointed at her book, where she'd written How Soon Is Now? in tall green letters.
"I don't know," she said. "I've never heard them."
"So you just want people to think you like the Smiths?" He couldn't help but sound disdainful.
Best of all, she had Park's songs in her head—and in her chest, somehow. There was something about the music on that tape. It felt different. Like, it set her lungs and her stomach on edge. There was something exciting about it, and something nervous. It made Eleanor feel like everything, like the world, wasn't what she'd thought it was.
Park spent most nights lying on his bed because it was the only place she'd never been.
He lay on his bed and never turned on the stereo.