Things We Didn’t See Coming

by

Steven Amsterdam

Things We Didn’t See Coming: Uses for Vinegar Summary & Analysis

Summary
Analysis
As he makes his way through the line of bedraggled civilians, the narrator is shocked to see Margo among them: clean and low-key, as if she has planned to see him here. The narrator tries to focus on the task at hand, which involves asking for ID and proof of circumstances from disaster victims. Normally, the narrator tries to keep some distance between himself and disaster sites, but boredom—and a spate of recent fires—has landed him here.
This latest jump blends continuity with change: the narrator is still working in government, still dealing with crises, and still vacillating between boredom and pain at the state of the world. But the narrator’s shock at seeing Margo here signals that they have broken up. That personal crisis is, structurally, given much more weight and surprise than the spate of recent fires.
Themes
Apocalypse vs. Routine Theme Icon
The narrator is in Brownlee, an oil town that has always been destined for collapse. The angry locals helped grow the fires, and now everything has been burnt to a crisp. To make matters worse, a new breed of Brazilian bug with a one-inch stinger has emerged; the stings feel like lit matches against skin. The narrator now works in Verification, handing out cash grants for disaster victims to relocate. He reflects that “it’s sick being loved like this.”
Fire is both fact and symbol here: it started out as a comfort (with Grandpa), became a necessity (with Liz and Jenna), and now is its own source of danger, as it tears down Brownlee and becomes a metaphor for the sting of the Brazilian bugs. The narrator’s government job has similarly switched symbolic meaning: whereas he was hated as an evacuator, he is now loved to a “sick[ening]” degree. It is also worth noting that many citizens committed arson, maybe as protest or out of boredom.
Themes
Morality and Survival Theme Icon
Apocalypse vs. Routine Theme Icon
The narrator flashes back to the collapse of his relationship with Margo. After his new job forced him to stay at disaster sites longer (during the “Summer of Hurricanes”), Margo started spending time with a rugged, calm man named Shane who worked in Rescue. At first, the friendship seemed harmless, but the narrator soon realized that Margo was leaving him.
Again, it is impossible for anyone to predict the pattern of each crisis—floods give way to pandemics, which give way to hurricanes, which give way to fires. Similarly, the narrator cannot predict Margo, as her seemingly innocuous friendship with Shane suddenly morphs into romantic betrayal.
Themes
Apocalypse vs. Routine Theme Icon
Care and Companionship under Crisis Theme Icon
The last time the narrator saw Margo, she had just started working in Grief (though they were both helping out in Rescue). They were on a street filled with fake plantation homes, all replete with unnecessary double staircases and balconies. One of the houses was filled with stolen goods, probably left there by some squatters. Margo was inside, stealing useless goods as always—and though the narrator did not join her, he could at least watch as she stole.
The plantation homes symbolize inequality in two ways. First, they are ridiculously expensive, equipped with useless staircases and balconies. And second, they hint at the legacy of slavery in this unnamed country (likely the United States). Though these hierarchies have been disrupted in some ways, the homes are still sites of wealth, as evidenced by the jewels Margo rushes to steal.
Themes
Wealth, Privilege, and Value Theme Icon
Quotes
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Now, the narrator’s job is high-level and official, though he barely sleeps because his head is so full of images of devastation. When Margo gets to the front of the line, she asks to talk. The narrator notices that Shane is standing with her, and he insists on seeing her ID card, trying to keep doing business as usual. Margo takes out three fake ID cards—which she knows the narrator is duty-bound to report to Central.
This moment calls back to the second chapter, where the narrator and his grandparents negotiated with the guard at the checkpoint; then, too, the guard was worried about Central, though he eventually let them go. It is telling that as the world outside has become more dangerous, the narrator has shifted to being part of the bureaucracy instead of dependent on it.
Themes
Morality and Survival Theme Icon
The narrator questions why Margo would jeopardize herself by lying to him like this; she replies that “I wanted to see you.” The narrator keeps looking over at Central’s desk, but Margo is certain he will not report her. Instead, Margo flirts with the narrator, promising that Shane can’t hear them. The narrator is frustrated and hurt, but he does not report Margo (though he doesn’t give her a grant, either). 
Even after Margo’s betrayals, the narrator is willing to jeopardize his own security on her behalf. Though Margo is unpredictable in some ways, her unfaithfulness seems like a pattern, as she is now being dishonest with Shane as she once was to the narrator.
Themes
Morality and Survival Theme Icon
Care and Companionship under Crisis Theme Icon
That night, the narrator tries to sleep in the tent he shares with the psych counselor; everything smells like vinegar, because that is the only way to keep lice, contaminants, and the Brazilian stingers away. The psych counselor can’t sleep sober, so he is just about to black out. Margo arrives, telling the narrator that she wants to leave Shane and run away with him (they can use Shane’s car to escape). The narrator is hesitant, but Margo reminds him that their connection is so intense that it feels chemical.
In moments of emotional hardship, these characters turn to chemical solutions: whether it is using vinegar for the Brazilian stingers, using alcohol to block out tragic memories, or using sex to patch up romantic hurt, all three of these people are searching for physical remedies to their deepest internal wounds.
Themes
Body as Currency vs. Body as Liability Theme Icon
Care and Companionship under Crisis Theme Icon
At the end of the next day, the narrator reflects on his work, helping people find jobs, close out mortgages, and deal with their lost assets. He even called in a favor with Relocation to get Margo and Shane on the first bus out. The psych doctor, noticing that the narrator is on edge, offers him a drink. The narrator knows that the only way anyone copes is with pills, which allow them to stay up all night: joking, reminiscing, and trying to predict the rapture or the Second Coming (though the narrator does not believe in these things).
In the previous chapter, the narrator swore to be more moral. Now, his work reflects that, as he helps disaster victims try to start anew. At the same time, the narrator’s work is not entirely dissimilar from what he did as an evacuator; in both jobs, he makes money from other people’s losses. The reference to the rapture demonstrates that the religious beliefs driving the Barricades have not faded entirely.  
Themes
Morality and Survival Theme Icon
Wealth, Privilege, and Value Theme Icon
While Brownlee was integrated due to a Diversity Charter, the narrator reflects that all of the people here “are exactly the same.” All of them are poor, and all of them are used to being dislocated over and over again. Still, these people have fresh hope with each new cash grant, each new destination—which the narrator knows is foolish. He is disappointed to see that Margo and Shane are still there, having not gotten on the bus.
Race is almost never mentioned in the novel, and here, the narrator minimizes it, choosing to focus on wealth inequality instead of other forms of imbalance. The narrator’s skepticism about the future perhaps blinds him to the individual backgrounds, needs, and experiences of the various citizens he works with.
Themes
Wealth, Privilege, and Value Theme Icon
Margo shows up the next morning, when the narrator has just gotten out of the shower; he is embarrassed by his body. But when Margo presses, the narrator has to admit that he has been using his government job to stalk her files, even leaving his name on the searches so she’ll know what he’s doing. A Brazilian stinger attacks the narrator, and Margo calms him down as only she can. She extracts the stinger and treats it with vinegar, assuring the narrator there is nothing to fear.
The narrator’s body is vulnerable here for two reasons: one related to crisis (the Brazilian stinger incident) and one more routine and familiar (the shame he feels at reuniting with an ex who left him). As always, the juxtaposition of these two things emphasizes how much everyday concerns persist through even the worst external crises.
Themes
Apocalypse vs. Routine Theme Icon
Body as Currency vs. Body as Liability Theme Icon
Care and Companionship under Crisis Theme Icon
Margo and the narrator make a plan: he will falsify Margo and Shane’s records, giving them the ID cards of two of Brownlee’s dead people. They’ll head off on a bus, and Margo will break up with Shane (she claims he sees it coming). The narrator will meet Margo at the bus depot, and they’ll escape somewhere together. Unlike the other refugees, the narrator has no hope that they’ll find any permanence in this new place.
The narrator’s lack of hopefulness about relocation hints at another form of pessimism: his sense that, despite Margo’s promises, life with her will never result in calm stability, either.
Themes
Care and Companionship under Crisis Theme Icon
Quotes
Hugging his possessions close to his chest, the narrator sits in the front of the bus, next to the psych doctor. They start drinking juice with rum, and the doctor asks questions about the narrator’s break-up. The narrator tells the doctor everything, “absolv[ing]” and “canoniz[ing]” Margo in the process; he even mentions their theory about the chemical basis for their relationship, and the doctor jokes that vinegar is a better fix for pH imbalances than love. The narrator hopes Shane will wake up and put a stop to all of this.
The narrator is both willing to betray Shane and guilty about hurting Shane in the way Shane once hurt him; this moral ambiguity reflects the narrator’s ever-changing view of what is required of him in order to be moral. It is worth noting the irony that the psych doctor, charged with healing people with careful prescriptions, has started self-medicating.
Themes
Morality and Survival Theme Icon
Body as Currency vs. Body as Liability Theme Icon
At the next station, the narrator runs off the bus to vomit. As he throws up, he hopes he can purge “every collapsed life I’ve had to walk into and convert into dollars.” A knock on the door tells him his time is up, so the narrator dries himself off and stares at himself in the mirror. He looks sick, and he wonders what’s happening with Margo and Shane.
Though governments, environments, and individual lives “collapse,” society’s capitalist systems—cash grants of “dollars,” fancy houses, and black markets—persist. The narrator’s moment of vomiting then links these systems to actual, biological illness.
Themes
Body as Currency vs. Body as Liability Theme Icon
Wealth, Privilege, and Value Theme Icon
The narrator waits for Margo to meet him at the northbound bus depot. In front of him is a peppy family, eagerly discussing their options in the next town (the mom will get a job in records, the dad will work as a carpenter). The only food the family has are some half-rotten apples and carrots. After a while, Margo has yet to arrive, and the narrator begins to suspect that he is a “sucker”—that Margo was only using him to launch a new life for herself and Shane.
As the narrator gets more and more anxious about Margo’s arrival, the world around him starts to reflect these anxieties: this family have been “sucker[ed]” into hope for their new life, so he might be a “sucker,” too. Interestingly, seeing a nuclear family at this point in the novel is already a rare occurrence; most families seem to have split up during one of the crises, as Liz’s did.
Themes
Apocalypse vs. Routine Theme Icon
Care and Companionship under Crisis Theme Icon
The narrator starts to panic, but he tries to focus on what he does have: money, a job, and “all that mother-loving freedom.” He could even try to track down his parents, now separated. But before he can get too deep into his thoughts, Margo arrives, tickets in hand. At last, they kiss. The narrator admires Margo, who “knows all the nuts and berries […] and the value of everything.” Unlike most other people, Margo is “a real survivor.” Instead of apologizing, Margo just promises that they can “fix” things together. As they board the bus, the narrator wonders what he has to fix.
Though there is some real sweetness in the reunion, it now becomes clear that what attracts the narrator to Margo is the same quality that causes him pain. Margo knows the tips and tricks of survival (“the nuts and berries” that are safe to eat, for example), and she knows how to size things up for their true “value.” But when the narrator stops having “value” to her, her loyalty will cease—a reality made clear in her refusal to take responsibility for their split.
Themes
Wealth, Privilege, and Value Theme Icon
Care and Companionship under Crisis Theme Icon
Quotes