Character Clues
Character Analysis
Social Status
The class disparity in Antigua provides the novel's most prominent tension.
Oddly, the tourist sits at the top of ladder. The fact that they come from a wealthy country like the U.S. already gives them a leg up, and then, when they arrive in Antigua, they respond to the poor conditions in the country with relief, thinking what "a marvelous change these bad roads are from the splendid highways [s/he] is used to back in North America" (1.1). Like a life of poverty is just a quaint little break.
Antiguans, on the other hand, sit at the bottom rung. Unlike tourists, they can't "move through customs quickly" at the airport, as they're carrying "cardboard boxes of much needed cheap clothes" (1.2). Many of the areas that they once enjoyed have now been ceded to the tourism industry (more on this over in the "Symbols" section). This establishes a great deal of sympathy toward their plight, giving us a better understanding of the realities of life in small countries like Antigua.
Thoughts and Opinions
Want to get to know someone? Step one: Get inside their brains. That's certainly the method Kincaid uses to characterize foreigners who come to Antigua.
In the novel, tourists state that the "things [they] they think about" are the things that "really define [them]" (1.5). Well, perfect—that makes our job a lot easier. Unfortunately, it just so happens that these tourists think about nasty stuff, like their innate superiority over Antiguans. Needless to say, this doesn't make us like tourists too much.
There are plenty of other instances of this, too—like when the woman from the Mill Reef Club calls adult Antiguan women "girls" (3.1), or when the Czech doctor refuses to see patients until they've been inspected for "bad smells and dirt" (2.3). Their actions reveal their real opinions on the people of Antigua and what we find is not pretty.
Location
For a small place, Antigua is quite defined by its distinct locales.
First, there are the airport and hotel areas—tacky, temporary homes for terrible tourists. These spots have been homogenized and prettified, but some stinky stuff lies beneath the surface. In this case, we're speaking literally, since "the content of your lavatory" (1.4) might end up swimming in the ocean right next to you. In a word: gross.
We also see wealthy areas, where drug smugglers, corrupt politicians, foreign businesspeople, and the rich elite live (well, when they're in town, that is). It's no coincidence that the roads surrounding their mansions are "even better than the road that was paved for the Queen's visit in 1985" (1.3). These folks run the show, after all.
We don't actually see much of the neighborhoods where native Antiguans live. This very fact is important because it illustrates the reality that their lives are invisible to the many people who pass through their island. What's more, the one remnant of the Antigua of the narrator's youth—the old Antigua Public Library—is slated to be "developed, turned into little shops" (3.1) for—you guessed it—tourists.