From the title alone, it is clear that The Great Alone explores the concept of isolation. Isolation is relevant in a literal sense throughout the novel (many of its characters live in the middle of nowhere), and in a metaphorical sense, as several characters feel alone and cut off from society. Leni’s sense of isolation grows throughout the novel as Ernt progressively alienates the Allbrights from the greater Kaneq community. First and foremost, Leni feels alone because the only person close to her age is Matthew Walker, a boy her father forbids her from seeing. Leni’s sense of isolation only grows as her father’s violence and paranoia get worse. Intentionally, Ernt attempts to cut Leni and Cora off from the rest of the world by creating a barricade around their property. At this point, Leni is left with only her mother to talk to, as she fears her father too much to have a real conversation with him.
Alternatively, Matthew feels isolated from the world after suffering a crippling fall that results in severe brain damage. Unable to speak coherently, Matthew expresses his feelings by painting. Even so, he is unable to shake the sense of loneliness he feels. He waits for years for Leni to return to him, even though he cannot remember her name. Eventually, Leni and Matthew do reunite, and Leni introduces him to his son, MJ. MJ and Leni alleviate Matthew’s sense of loneliness and help him to feel alive again. Ultimately, loneliness in The Great Alone is not about the number of people one surrounds themselves with, but rather who those people are and how they treat one another.
Isolation ThemeTracker
Isolation Quotes in The Great Alone
Leni saw his love for her, shining through his regret. It eroded her anger, made her question everything again. He didn’t want to hurt Mama, didn’t mean to. He was sick …
“I love you,” Mama said, and she was crying now, too, and suddenly Leni understood the reality of her world, the truth that Alaska, in all its beautiful harshness, had revealed. They were trapped, by environment and finances, but mostly by the sick, twisted love that bound her parents together.
If you knew me, you wouldn’t be surprised at all that I start my college essay off with a quote from Tolkien. Books are the mile markers of my life. Some people have family photos or home movies to record their past. I’ve got books. Characters. For as long as I can remember, books have been my safe place. I read about places I can barely imagine and lose myself in journeys to foreign lands to save girls who didn’t know they were really princesses.
Fear, Leni learned, was not the small, dark closet she’d always imagined: walls pressed in close, a ceiling you bumped your head on, a floor cold to the touch.
No.
Fear was a mansion, one room after another, connected by endless hallways.
Wild. That’s how I describe it all. My love. My life. Alaska. Truthfully, it’s all the same to me. Alaska doesn’t attract many; most are too tame to handle life up here. But when she gets her hooks in you, she digs deep and holds on, and you become hers. Wild. A lover of cruel beauty and splendid isolation. And God help you, you can’t live anywhere else.
I guess my mama was right about love. As screwed up as she is, she understands the durability and lunacy of it. You can’t make yourself fall in love, I suppose, and you can’t make yourself fall out of it.
It’s a bad idea, Leni. A terrible idea. If you’ve learned anything from your mother and what happened, it should be this: life—and the law—is hard on women. Sometimes doing the right thing is no help at all.