Quote 1
"It hurt a lot," Jonas said, "but I'm glad you gave it to me. It was interesting. And now I understand better. What it meant, that there would be pain." (11.60)
Notice that, at first, Jonas is guilty of the same hollow use of language that he will later accuse his sister and mother of. He claims to "know" what "pain" "means," three words that will radically change in his mind as he gains more and more wisdom from the memories.
"But why can't everyone have the memories? I think it would seem a little easier if the memories were shared. You and I wouldn't have to bear so much by ourselves, if everyone took a part."
The Giver sighed, "You're right," he said, "But then everyone would be burdened and pained. They don't want that. And that's the real reason The Receiver is so vital to them, and so honored. They selected me – and you – to lift that burden from themselves." (14.46-47)
When you look at it this way, the community is guilty of cowardice. And, as we see, the price for this sort of action is high: they may escape pain, but they are deprived of wisdom as well.
Quote 3
"Rosemary had only those five weeks worth, and most of them were good ones. But there were those few terrible memories, the ones that overwhelmed her. For awhile they overwhelmed the community. All those feelings! They'd never experienced that before. (18.52)
When we read this, we can't help but wonder—as does Jonas—what would happen to the community were they to suddenly receive all the memories that Jonas has stored up. The Giver would seem to take a positive stance here; check out the end of the novel, where Jonas thinks he hears music coming from behind him. Sure, the community may be slapped across the face with the knowledge of all human suffering that has ever occurred in the world, but they also get music (and Christmas, and colors, and lights, and sunshine, and snow, etc., etc).
"Oh." Jonas was silent for a minute. "Oh, I see what you mean. It wouldn't matter for a newchild's toy. But later it does matter, doesn't it? We don't dare to let people make choices of their own."
"Not safe?" The Giver suggested.
"Definitely not safe," Jonas said with certainty. "What if they were allowed to choose their own mate? And chose wrong?" (13.15-17)
Well that didn't take long. Jonas pulls a 180 faster than you can say "sheep!" Why? Probably because he's not ready to take the leap from static, safe contentment to dynamic, risky freedom…yet.
Jonas nodded. "I liked the feeling of love," he confessed. He glanced nervously at the speaker on the wall, reassuring himself that no one was listening. "I wish we still had that," he whispered. "Of course," he added quickly, "I do understand that it wouldn't work very well. And that it's much better to be organized the way we are now. I can see that it was a dangerous way to live."
"What do you mean?"
Jonas hesitated. He wasn't certain, really, what he had meant. He could feel that there was risk involved, though he wasn't sure how. "Well," he said finally, grasping for an explanation, "they had a fire right there in that room. There was a fire burning in the fireplace. And there were candles on the table. I can certainly see why those things were outlawed. (16.49-51)
Just as The Giver had to use the sled comparison to talk about memories, Jonas has to use the fire to talk about love. And, much like fire, love is dangerous, but provides a certain warmth. Yes, it's a bit heavy-handed. Don't look at us.
Quote 6
"I apologize for hurting you, Lily." Jonas mumbled, and took his hand away.
"'Cept your apology," Lily responded indifferently, stroking the lifeless elephant. (13.39-40)
This is when we, as readers, can really see how frivolous "apologies" are in the community. The words are as "lifeless" as the elephant Lily is stroking. (Zing. How do you like THEM apples?)
Quote 7
"Do you love me?"
There was an awkward silence for a moment. Then Father gave a little chuckle. "Jonas. You, of all people. Precision of language, please!"
"What do you mean?" Jonas asked. Amusement was not at all what he had anticipated.
"Your father means that you used a very generalized word, so meaningless that it has become almost obsolete," his mother explained carefully.
Jonas stared at them. Meaningless? He had never before felt anything as meaningful as the memory. (16.56-60)
There it is, in all its explicit glory. Language in the community = empty words. Of course, you realized that language was meaningless six chapters ago, so good job.
Quote 8
"Mother? Father?" he said, the idea coming to him unexpectedly, "why don't we put Gabriel's crib in my room tonight? I know how to feed and comfort him, and it would let you and Father get some sleep." (14.69)
Jonas reaches out to Gabriel as a result of his isolation. It says something about the futility of language that he connects best with an infant with whom he cannot communicate verbally.
"But don't you want to be with me, Giver?" Jonas asked sadly.
The Giver hugged him. "I love you, Jonas," he said. "But I have another place to go. When my work here is finished, I want to be with my daughter." (20.101-102)
The idea that death can be a solution to isolation is an interesting one, and this has implications for the ambiguous ending to The Giver. The Giver hints at something like a heaven, some sort of afterlife, where he imagines he will be with his daughter Rosemary. Could it be, then, that Jonas forms the same sort of bond with Gabriel because they're dying together?
Jonas entered the Annex room and realized immediately that it was a day when he would be sent away. The Giver was rigid in his chair, his face in his hands.
"I'll come back tomorrow, sir." He said quickly. Then he hesitated. "Unless maybe there's something I can do to help."
The Giver looked up at him, his face contorted with suffering. "Please," he gasped, "take some of the pain." (15.1-3)
Until this moment, The Giver has always sent Jonas away when he was in too much pain. It's interesting to note which memory in particular was too much to bear: warfare.
Quote 11
"I felt sad today," he had heard his mother say, and they had comforted her.
But now Jonas had experienced real sadness. He had felt grief. He knew there was no quick comfort for emotions like those. (17.10-11)
It looks like everything is relative; Jonas thought he knew sadness and pain before he saw the intensity of the sadness and pain in the memories he received.
Quote 12
"Asher," Jonas said. He was trying to speak carefully, and with kindness, to say exactly what he wanted to say. "You had no way of knowing this. I didn't know it myself until recently. But it is a cruel game. In the past, there have – "
"I said I apologize, Jonas."
Jonas sighed. It was no use. Of course Asher couldn't understand. "I accept your apology, Asher," he said wearily. (17.37-39)
It's fitting that Asher ends the argument with empty words, when what Jonas was trying to do in the first place was get his friend to recognize how hollow his actions and words were.
Quote 13
Jonas nodded. The man was wrinkled, and his eyes, though piercing in their unusual lightness, seemed tired. The flesh around them was darkened into shadowed circles.
"I can see that you are very old," Jonas responded with respect. The Old were always given the highest respect. (10.36-37)
If the Old have no memories or wisdom, why are they so highly respected? Are they truly respected?
Quote 14
Jonas frowned. "But my parents must have had parents! I never thought about it before. Who are my parents-of-the-parents? Where are they? (16.26)
Lowry's narrative technique is fascinating in that we, the reader, often make discoveries at the same time that Jonas does. Until this passage, we probably didn't think about the fact that Jonas didn't seem to have grandparents either.
Quote 15
Jonas blurted out what he was feeling. "I was thinking that…well, I can see that it wasn't a very practical way to live with the Old right there in the same place, where maybe they wouldn't be well taken care of, the way they are now, and that we have a better-arranged way of doing things. But anyway, I was thinking, I mean feeling, actually, that it was kind of nice, then. And that I wish we could be that way, and that you could be my grandparent. The family in the memory seemed a little more – " He faltered, not able to find the word he wanted. (16.47)
Jonas recognizes the value not only in family, but in forming close relationships with the elderly. In many ways, The Giver is like a grandparent to him: he passes down wisdom to the younger generation.
Jonas stared at him. "Release is always like that? For people who break the rules three times? For the Old? Do they kill the Old, too?"
"Yes, it's true." (20.20-21)
Again, we see that the old are very similar to the infantile in The Giver. This makes sense in a world where wisdom is undervalued—in fact, where it is ignored completely.