The coffin that Levi sets out to build for Charlotte represents the miscommunication that threatens their relationship. Levi wants to build the coffin to show Charlotte that she’s not bound to repeat the pattern of reincarnation that they witnessed their mother (Edith) and other female members of their family experience after their cremations (with the existence of a coffin, Levi reasons, Charlotte can anticipate burial rather than cremation, with no possibility of returning after death). In Levi’s mind, building a coffin is a sensible way to comfort Charlotte. But for Charlotte, these plans bring their own kind of dread. The coffin is not a comfort but a symbol of how trapped she feels in her relationship with Levi, who is too stubborn to understand her true feelings and desires, or to see that her distress was an expression of grief, not fear. The coffin, therefore, stands between the siblings, representing how the ways that they attempt to show love for each other—Levi through misplaced effort, and Charlotte by running away so that she doesn’t unleash her anger on Levi—actually damage their relationship. Instead of bringing them together, the coffin drives Charlotte and Levi apart, and it's only after Charlotte’s fire destroys the coffin at the end of the novel that the siblings can apologize to each other and begin to make amends. Therefore, the coffin is a physical manifestation of the ways that miscommunication and misunderstanding prevent people from loving and caring for each other in healthy ways.
The Coffin Quotes in Flames
I have long found that the most appropriate material for those who have died young is wood taken from the many-hued whorls of an old snowgum. Its hard, cold-to-the-touch timber does not rot or warp or even fade. Instead it fossilises, and so too does the body it contains. The flesh of the dead turns as hard and unyielding as the stony coffin, and cannot be altered by any natural means.
So come: collect your half-made coffin. I shall not charge you for it, even though I have laboured over its creation. I no longer need the money—the taxman has no chance of getting to me while these creatures plague my doorstep. Come take the flesh-stoning panels of freshly carved snowgum. But the pelt stays with me, moron boy. The only grave it shall adorn is my own.
In a mind like his, grand acts will always trump honest words. There was a chance he’d understand this—a slim chance, but a chance nonetheless—the moment he saw the coffin. An epiphany might have dawned upon him: What am I doing? Is she even worried about her eventual death? What if she just needs someone to talk to? What if she just needs time? But this chance was destroyed the moment Levi picked the golden-brown pelt from Hough’s nibbled fingers. Now, with his fingers tousling the fur, with the uncommon warmth spreading from his fingers to his scalp, he has never been more sure of himself.
He blinks. Mum loved this place. He looks up at the canopy. It seemed right.
I take a gamble; with heat pulsing beneath my nails, I reach out. It’s not. But it’s okay. My palm lands on his naked shoulder. We need to leave. I’ll find you some help.
He looks at my hand. I don’t need help. I’m helping you.
Please, Levi. You can help me by coming with me.
You don’t understand.