50 pages • 1 hour read
Harlan CobenA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Content Warning: This section of the guide depicts abduction, domestic violence, and the exploitation of minors.
In Home, Harlan Coben demonstrates how trauma has the potential to completely undo a family by depicting families destroyed by disaster, secrets, and lies. He also illustrates this theme through Myron’s life: Although his career-ending injury presents a different kind of trauma than the one that centers the novel, the repetition of the incident renders it a significant motif: “You rip off the bandage all at once versus slowly peeling it away…I could also add the cliche about being thrown into the deep end. The suddenness forced me to act. It made me go to law school. It made me become a sports agent” (69). With Myron’s history, Coben highlights how trauma resonates through his life in unexpected ways, and he continues his examination of the effects of trauma with the Baldwin family’s experience and even delves further into it with the events of Myron’s fiancée Terese’s life.
Coben highlights the effects of trauma through the Baldwin family, showing how it affects every aspect of their lives. Even the house itself—the scene of the supposed crime—becomes a symbol of their destroyed family. Brooke sadly reflects that they never locked the door because they “felt safe back here” (155). The kitchen table and four chairs are a constant reminder of Rhys’s absence:
Rhys had only the one sibling—Clark—so Myron wondered whether it had always been like that, the four chairs, and after what happened to Rhys, no one had the heart to move it. Did they sit there at dinner every night for ten years, at that table, the one chair empty? (155).
Brooke’s experience as a mother, in particular, is described: She loathes that her reactions are so frequently scrutinized, emphasizing that she cannot abandon the home where Rhys used to live, because it makes her sad: “Everyone wondered why we didn’t move away. Why we invite this pain. I’ll tell you why. Because this pain is better. This pain is better than the pain of giving up on him” (157). With this statement, Brooke illustrates both the effects of the trauma of losing Rhys and the trauma of having to let him go, showing the complicated nature of her family’s trauma.
Coben also uses the example of Myron’s fiancée, Terese, to explore the effects of trauma. She experienced the loss of a child years before Home takes place, and her profound sadness is remarked upon by Myron’s mother. Myron considers Terese’s loss something that fuels her protective nature. Terese is so accustomed to sadness that she fears happy moments, knowing that they will end: “When things are going this well, you sort of hold your breath because you want it to last. You don’t want to stop or even slow down time as much as you just want to stay safe in your little bubble” (12). Terese’s experience of losing her daughter has left her with the sense that everything ends in tragedy, and she is unable to enjoy happy moments fully because of it. However, she tells Myron that her knowledge of loss has also expanded her knowledge of love: “If you want to experience love, then you have to be ready for pain. One doesn’t come without the other. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t have to worry about losing you. If you want laughter, expect tears” (65). Although Terese’s experience has left a mark on her life, she has also found a way to use it to understand her life and relationships. Through his exploration of these characters, their histories, and their current relationships, Coben highlights the wide-ranging effect of trauma on a person’s life, including how they might use it to move forward in their lives.
Throughout Home, Coben probes the moral complexities of the pursuit of justice through the characters’ ethically ambiguous actions. Myron and Win often push the boundaries of the law in the course of their investigations, justifying their actions in search of the truth.
Although Myron and Win have very different approaches, they are both willing to break the law to solve their case. Myron sees himself as a hero, a perspective that allows him to rationalize his extrajudicial legal actions. Win tells him that this hero complex leads Myron to “think you can make the world better. You are Don Quixote tilting at windmills” (33). Mickey, Myron’s nephew, willingly participates, causing Myron to realize that “Mickey had also, it seemed, inherited the Bolitar ‘hero complex’ gene. He had done a lot of good in a very short time. That made Myron equal parts proud and worried” (148). Myron’s worry illustrates his understanding of his actions’ moral ambiguity and their potential repercussions. Win worries about Myron’s “hero complex,” preferring to work in the shadows; he fears the public nature of Myron’s actions, since “[h]eroes put targets on their backs” (261). Although Myron engages in breaking the law, he can justify it, at least for himself (if not Mickey), by reminding himself that he is the “hero” seeking justice.
On the other hand, Win doesn’t find it necessary to justify his actions to himself. In the first chapter, Win assaults and murders the men who are intimidating Patrick. He relies on violence and extrajudicial vigilante justice to achieve his aims. Rather than relying on law enforcement, he employs hackers to tap into Fat Gandhi’s network and blow up Fat Gandhi’s arcade. Brooke benefits from Win’s unconventional methods; like Myron, she is concerned by Win’s sociopathic tendencies but does not mind much since his protection extends to her: “‘There aren’t many he loves,’ she said. ‘But when he does love you, it’s both ferocious and comforting’” (123). Win’s love for Brooke allows him to justify murdering and disposing of Nancy Moore. Win cheerfully considers that “law enforcement is actively searching for her, though I doubt that she is much of a priority” (380). For Win, the ends justify the means; when the means allow him to circumvent the law and blow things up, all the better. His pursuit of justice is uncomplicated by moral concerns.
Even Nancy is willing to suspend moral and ethical considerations, although in her case, her family serves as the rationalization. Believing that she is acting in her son’s best interest, Nancy destroys two families in the process. She attempts to achieve “justice” for her son by covering up Rhys’s murder, justifying this as maternal love. Nancy prevents Patrick from experiencing the consequences of a tragic accident, and in the process, she destroys the Baldwin family. Like Myron and Win, to further her ends, Nancy is willing to do what she knows is morally wrong, and with her example, Coben shows how moral ambiguity, even in the cause of justice, can corrupt and destroy.
Home features several examples of the unique, intimate nature of childhood friendships. Coben explores the connections between children, illustrating that these relationships can serve as a source of tremendous comfort and resilience. In addition, he considers the different ways that, in the absence of these relationships, a child might process trauma and incorporate it into their life.
Coben probes childhood friendships primarily through the relationship between Patrick and Rhys. Throughout the novel, they are represented as best friends, and that closeness offers some comfort to Brooke: Before learning the truth about Rhys, she is thankful that although her son is missing, Patrick and Rhys might at least be together. This belief is prolonged by the charade that is manufactured to hide Patrick; the idea that they were trafficked together, as traumatic as it is, creates false hope that the boys grew up together and comforted each other through impossible circumstances. Myron notes that “People, especially the young, are resilient” (71), and hopes that the boys fostered resilience in each other. The characters’ deep belief in the power of the boys’ friendship offers solace and the possibility that they can survive and succeed after their trauma, highlighting the strength of those childhood bonds.
The loyal friendship between Francesca and Clark also demonstrates the capacity for childhood bonds to create a stable foundation. They were in the same fifth-grade class when their brothers were “abducted,” and the uniquely horrible experience of losing a sibling as their parents’ marriage crumbled created a bond between them. They became so close that they attended Columbia together and remained roommates. Myron is initially surprised by the depth of their friendship; however, he understands the solace provided by their relationship as Clark explains how they both felt incredibly isolated after the disappearance: “But eventually you have to go back, and when you do, everyone looks at you like you’re some kind of alien. Your friends. Your teachers. Everyone. Then you go home from school, and it’s even worse” (267). This connection between the friends created an intimacy that deepened over the years, a bond made resilient by their continued shared experience of losing a sibling.
Coben also considers how the lack of this particular type of childhood bond can affect a person. Myron considers this as he follows the boy he dubs Dog Collar, whose wounds are apparent despite his attempt to seem tough: He describes the boy as “a person who, one, has been beaten too many times, hence the cringe, and two, has discovered the hard way that showing weakness makes the beatings even worse, hence the false bravado. The damage—and there was a lot of it—came off the boy in waves” (42). Without the support of a friend, Dog Collar opts for bravado, which Myron easily sees through. His nephew Mickey, without a childhood friend to lean on, channels trauma into saving others: “He had been through a lot for someone so young—his unstable upbringing, his mother’s drug addiction, his father’s bizarre return from the grave. Mickey had also, it seemed, inherited the Bolitar ‘hero complex’ gene” (148). With these two characters, Coben highlights the different ways in which a child who doesn’t have the support of a friend struggles to develop resilience and juxtaposes that against the friendship Francesca and Clark share, in which the support of a friend helps to process trauma and create resilience.
By Harlan Coben