In Chapter 1, Francisco takes his wagon to meet Abel at the bus junction. Momaday uses imagery to capture a sense of Francisco's anticipation:
Well before he came to the junction, he could hear the slow whine of the tires on the Cuba and Bloomfield road. It was a strange sound; it began at a high and descending pitch, passed, and rose again to become at last inaudible, lost in the near clatter of the rig and hoofs—lost even in the slow, directionless motion of the flies. But it was recurrent: another, and another; and he turned into the intersection and drove on to the trading post. He had come about seven miles.
Francisco, who has spent his life in Walatowa, is used to the "clatter of the rig and hoofs." The "slow whine of tires," however, is "strange" to him: he is not used to hearing motorized vehicles in his corner of the world. The sounds compete with one another at first, until the sound of the tires blends in with the noise from the wagon and the "slow, directionless motion of the flies." For a moment, the noise from the bus becomes part of the natural symphonic backdrop Francisco is used to hearing in the valley. Then the whining sound from the tires stands out again, and the cycle repeats.
By juxtaposing the sound of the bus with the sound of the wagon, Momaday stages Abel's return from World War II as an eerie collision between two worlds. Francisco is eager to welcome his grandson home to the Pueblo, but he also knows that Abel will bring with him the scars of his encounter with industrial colonialism. These two discordant worlds will be forced to come together in one symphony, just like the wagon and the bus. Like the sounds from the wagon and the bus, they will not always harmonize.
Sometimes, however, the bus's whining blends well with noise of the valley. The cycle of blending and disharmony suggests two things. First, Abel will not be a straightforward misfit in his grandfather's home. Rather, he will go through "recurrent" cycles of fitting in and sticking out because of his background in both the traditional American Indian world and the modern industrial colonial world. Second, as Abel comes to learn, surviving the collision between tradition and industrial colonialism has become a way of life for his people. Francisco, for instance, has spent his entire life grappling with the presence of Christian missionaries in Walatowa. The sound of the bus may be strange to Francisco, but the way this strange sound blends in and then reemerges over and over again is emblematic of something very familiar to him—the constant push and pull between adapting to colonial influence and refusing to let it fully alter his way of life.
In Chapter 6, Abel kills, Juan Reyes Fragua, who has albinism. The murder scene contains imagery that emphasizes Fragua's and Angela's roles as foils for one another:
[Fragua] closed his hands upon Abel and drew him close. Abel heard the strange excitement of the white man's breath, and the quick, uneven blowing at his ear, and felt the blue shivering lips upon him, felt even the scales of the lips and the hot slippery point of the tongue, writhing. He was sick with terror and revulsion, and he tried to fling himself away, but the white man held him close. The white immensity of flesh lay over and smothered him. He withdrew the knife and thrust again, lower, deep into the groin.
Abel doesn't just kill Fragua—he kills him in a way that is intensely physical and intimate. The close-range stabbing allows Abel to hear and feel Fragua's dying breaths. Fragua seems almost to kiss Abel, pressing his lips and tongue against his murderer's face and holding Abel to his dying body even when Abel tries to pull back in "terror and revulsion." Abel responds by thrusting the knife for a second time into Fragua's groin.
The almost sexual imagery Momaday uses in this passage echoes some of the language from the scene in Chapter 5 when Abel and Angela first have sex:
Angela caught her breath, and after a long moment she came to him. She bent down and kissed him, and he put his hands on her and drew her close against him. She felt the strength of his hands and the heat of his body. His hands were hard with work and sharp with the odor of wood. She took hold of one of his hands.
Angela and Abel's encounter does not turn violent in the same way as Abel's encounter with Fragua. Still, in both passages, a pale body pulls Abel close and kisses him. The sex that follows seems to be consensual, but it nonetheless follows the pattern of a power struggle that Abel wins. The passage ends with Angela looking up at Abel and thinking that he reminds her of a dangerous bear she once saw and desperately wanted to touch.
As a foil for Fragua, Angela helps shed light on why Abel might kill Fragua, and why the albino man might let him. For Abel and Angela, sex and intimacy are about claiming and overcoming the power they each perceive the other to have. To Abel, Angela represents the freedom to move between the reservation and the White-dominated world beyond. By taking her money and having sex with her, Abel hopes to prove that he, too, can move beyond the limited role assigned to him by colonialism. Angela, meanwhile, becomes obsessed with the idea that Abel has the spiritual freedom she wants; she hopes that by having sex with him, she can take some of his freedom for herself.
The way sex, power, and identity intersect in Abel and Angela's relationship is a key to understanding Abel and Fragua's relationship. Abel becomes fixated on Fragua because, like Angela, Fragua has access to Whiteness that Abel can never have. Abel, meanwhile, fits in on the reservation in a way Fragua likely never has because of his albinism. The two men are obsessed with one another to the point of sexual violence and death because they each want what the other has. In turn, by comparing Fragua and Angela, the reader can see clearly that Angela and Abel's relationship was never going to last.
In Chapter 6, Abel kills, Juan Reyes Fragua, who has albinism. The murder scene contains imagery that emphasizes Fragua's and Angela's roles as foils for one another:
[Fragua] closed his hands upon Abel and drew him close. Abel heard the strange excitement of the white man's breath, and the quick, uneven blowing at his ear, and felt the blue shivering lips upon him, felt even the scales of the lips and the hot slippery point of the tongue, writhing. He was sick with terror and revulsion, and he tried to fling himself away, but the white man held him close. The white immensity of flesh lay over and smothered him. He withdrew the knife and thrust again, lower, deep into the groin.
Abel doesn't just kill Fragua—he kills him in a way that is intensely physical and intimate. The close-range stabbing allows Abel to hear and feel Fragua's dying breaths. Fragua seems almost to kiss Abel, pressing his lips and tongue against his murderer's face and holding Abel to his dying body even when Abel tries to pull back in "terror and revulsion." Abel responds by thrusting the knife for a second time into Fragua's groin.
The almost sexual imagery Momaday uses in this passage echoes some of the language from the scene in Chapter 5 when Abel and Angela first have sex:
Angela caught her breath, and after a long moment she came to him. She bent down and kissed him, and he put his hands on her and drew her close against him. She felt the strength of his hands and the heat of his body. His hands were hard with work and sharp with the odor of wood. She took hold of one of his hands.
Angela and Abel's encounter does not turn violent in the same way as Abel's encounter with Fragua. Still, in both passages, a pale body pulls Abel close and kisses him. The sex that follows seems to be consensual, but it nonetheless follows the pattern of a power struggle that Abel wins. The passage ends with Angela looking up at Abel and thinking that he reminds her of a dangerous bear she once saw and desperately wanted to touch.
As a foil for Fragua, Angela helps shed light on why Abel might kill Fragua, and why the albino man might let him. For Abel and Angela, sex and intimacy are about claiming and overcoming the power they each perceive the other to have. To Abel, Angela represents the freedom to move between the reservation and the White-dominated world beyond. By taking her money and having sex with her, Abel hopes to prove that he, too, can move beyond the limited role assigned to him by colonialism. Angela, meanwhile, becomes obsessed with the idea that Abel has the spiritual freedom she wants; she hopes that by having sex with him, she can take some of his freedom for herself.
The way sex, power, and identity intersect in Abel and Angela's relationship is a key to understanding Abel and Fragua's relationship. Abel becomes fixated on Fragua because, like Angela, Fragua has access to Whiteness that Abel can never have. Abel, meanwhile, fits in on the reservation in a way Fragua likely never has because of his albinism. The two men are obsessed with one another to the point of sexual violence and death because they each want what the other has. In turn, by comparing Fragua and Angela, the reader can see clearly that Angela and Abel's relationship was never going to last.