Sarah’s missing middle finger represents her loss of innocence as she is forced to recognize that people around the world suffer many horrors while she lives her safe, comfortable, insulated life. When Sarah and Andrew meet Little Bee and Nkiruka on the beach in Nigeria, Sarah cuts off her finger in exchange for Little Bee’s life. On the plane ride home, as Sarah feels the stump of her finger throb, she reflects that it feels like the end of her childhood, now that she has witnessed firsthand the kind of horror that goes on in the world. However, on her return to England, Sarah manages to hide herself from both the traumatic memories and their implications for her own life—namely that her career is meaningless and her lifestyle is selfish—by focusing herself on maintaining her identity as a career woman and a working mother. As Sara numbs her pain, her awareness of her missing finger dims; she sees its absence only as a minor inconvenience, reflecting the fact that she has largely pushed the events in Nigeria out of her mind. However, when Little Bee arrives at her house and tells Sarah how Nkiruka was murdered after she and Andrew left, Sarah finds that her middle finger itches and throbs, suggesting that her loss of innocence is weighing on her mind once more, since Little Bee, who suffered many horrors, now lives with her. As Sarah’s relationship with Little Bee develops and she begins to take steps to lead a purposeful life and help other people, Sarah stops mentioning her missing finger at all, though this time because she has dealt with her loss of innocence and decided that in response, she will do what she can to help people like Little Bee.
Sarah’s Missing Finger Quotes in Little Bee
In place of my finger is a stump, a phantom digit that used to be responsible for the E, D, and C keys on my laptop. I can’t rely on E, D, and C anymore. They go missing when I need them most. Pleased becomes please. Ecstasies becomes stasis.
How calm my eyes were, since that day on the beach in Africa. When there has been a loss so fundamental I suppose that to lose just one more thing—a finger, perhaps, or a husband—is of absolutely no consequence at all.