The Second Life of Mirielle West

“There are two types of patients at Carville: those who count themselves among the dead, and those who have the pluck to claim their place among the living. The choice is yours.”

Dr. Ross’s words challenge Mirielle not to wallow in a state of helplessness but to take action and assist with the care of her fellow patients. She is motivated, too, by her husband, who believes Mirielle is lacking in the resolve needed to overcome both the disease’s stigma and its physical limitations. Throughout her time at Carville, Mirielle resolves to help find a cure instead of remaining passive and hopeless. This resolve is an essential component of her characterization.

“But she [Mirielle] couldn’t help thinking again of Ben-Hur – the horrified face of the guard when he discovered Ben-Hur’s mother and sister in the dungeon, the way the crowds scattered at the cry of ‘Leper!’ ‘Not a sound,’ his sister said when they’d seen Ben-Hur sleeping. ‘He belongs to the living – we to the dead.’

Was that true? Was Mirielle only fooling herself with her hopes for a cure? Did she too belong to the dead? It certainly felt that way when she looked around the colony. And not because of ruined faces and missing limbs. It was in their eyes.”

The bulk of Mirielle’s knowledge of Hansen’s disease comes from films, which perpetuate stereotypes and stigmas about the condition. Here, she tries to reconcile the horror portrayed in the film (and the physical marks of the disease on many of the patients at Carville) with her image of herself as being above such a condition. Repeatedly, Mirielle is unwilling to accept that the disease automatically leads to death, and as her knowledge about it grows, she takes whatever steps she can to stave off its progress.

“What would these same Hollywood socialites think if they knew there’d been a bona fide leper in their midst? What terrible things would they say then?”

Mirielle is well aware of the stigma facing those inflicted with Hansen’s disease. The tone of this quote indicates that her perspective is changing: She has come to understand that the condition does not strip away the humanity of those it inflicts. Similarly, it is evident that the socialites with whom Mirielle spent time are not truly friends who care for her but merely acquaintances who associate with her because of her husband’s fame.

“‘I’m not saying you’re particularly swift or proficient yet, but you do seem to have a certain…grit.’ In her life, Mirielle had been complimented for a whole host of things – her pretty smile and silky hair, her stylish clothes and flashing jewels, her grand house and well-mannered staff – but no one had ever suggested she had any merits beyond the external presentation of herself.”

Mirielle welcomes the description of herself as “full of grit.” Indeed, this is the very quality that Charlie has criticized her for lacking. Her work at Carville brings purpose to her life in a way that Mirielle never anticipated or experienced before: Mirielle has been valued largely for her beauty rather than her skills or personality. Having the lesions affect her appearance means that she will have to find something else valuable about herself.

“[Mirielle] fell asleep thinking of those movies. Jane and her handsome Mr. Rochester. The three wise men on their camels following a shining star through the desert. But in her dreams, those images morphed. She was Esmerelda in The Hunchback of Notre Dame, averting her eyes from the grotesque Quasimodo. Then, just as suddenly, it was she whose limbs and back were twisted, whose skin was coarse and hairy, whose face was that of a monster. It was from her that others hid their eyes. She was Nosferatu, Frankenstein, Mr. Hyde. Soon it was not enough for the others in her dream to look away. They pointed and snickered. They gasped and scowled. Those few who dared come close kicked and pinched her.”

Movies remind Mirielle of her former and are a connection to Charlie. Here, they provide an escape for her, helping her to forget about the unpleasantness of her new circumstances. However, that Mirielle’s dreams of movies turn from romantic to dark reflects her fears about being at Carville. Her transformation into a “grotesque” creature means she acknowledges that she, too, is a leprosy patient like the others.

“The missing toes, weeping lesions, and infected wounds that had so horrified her at the beginning no longer made her flinch or gape. If some got better, others got worse, and for all her careful undressing and gentle scrubbing, for all the ointments and medicines the sisters applied, Mirielle had never been certain they were making a difference.

But clearly with Hector they had. And Mirielle, with her small, monotonous ministrations, had helped. A strange feeling settled over her. Pleasant and uplifting.”

Mirielle initially performs her tasks out of spite, but as time passes, she realizes that not only has she become skilled, it brings her a sense of satisfaction and meaning. Even though the disease is not curable, and her efforts sometimes feel fruitless, helping Hector reminds her that her work has value.

“Mirielle tried to carry Hector’s words with her over the next few days. If a man who’d lost everything to this disease, could still have hope, so could she.”

Mirielle is frequently frustrated during her first few months at Carville, as she is certain that passively hoping to be healed will not suffice. Hector, however, inspires her to think differently. She has also come to view him not as an “other” but as a teacher.

“Irene swatted Mirielle’s knee and stood. ‘Baby, you can’t move on and live your life with all them should’ves hanging over your head.’

‘Amen to that,’ Frank said.”

Mirielle ultimately takes this advice to heart as she takes steps to forgiving herself for Felix’s death and addressing her grief. Mirielle’s willingness to speak of Felix to other people is an important first step in this process.

“[Mirielle] didn’t understand why Hector’s death had affected her so deeply. It was as if he’d been a tether to her life before, her life in California, and now that tether was broken.”

Though they come from different backgrounds, Mirielle and Hector are both from California, and that bond helps her get through her time at Carville. That she is saddened by his death is a complete turnaround from the way she regarded him on the train to Carville. The notion of Mirielle’s connection to California being broken subtly foreshadows that she will never return there; Carville will become her home and the place where she develops a meaningful life, just as Hector did.

“Mirielle frowned. ‘That’s what I hate most. How this’ – she lowered her voice even though no one was within earshot – ‘this disease cleaves you into two people. Without it, you’d just be…you.’

‘Ya can’t let it split ya like that or you’ll go mad. Trust me. Besides, even if –’ He paused and flashed that earnest smile of his. ‘Even when ya go home, ya won’t be the same person ya were before.’”

Frank’s advice to Mirielle is important, because he is encouraging her not to allow the disease to take away her humanity. He believes that a person should not be defined by disease. At the same time, he is warning Mirielle that she will never be the same, even if she is cleared to leave. This foreshadows the identity shifts that Mirielle undergoes while at Carville and that she ultimately decides to stay.

“Mirielle took hold [of Frank’s hand] before her nerves failed her. At first, the feel of his uneven skin and curled fingers consumed her attention. On the dance floor, she moved right when he guided her left and stumbled through the easy steps. His other hand felt like a bumpy rock against the small of her back. The song rolled without pause into the next, and after a few swinging bars, she felt herself relaxing. Her hand settled into the hollow of his palm. She was careful not to squeeze too hard, but otherwise soon forgot her awkwardness.”

Mirielle refused Frank’s first invitation to dance at the observation tower due to her repulsion at his hands. Here, Mirielle shows that she is slowly overcoming the harmful stereotypes that she held about the disease and those afflicted with it. That Mirielle compares Frank’s dancing to Charlie’s here foreshadows the way in which Frank will ultimately take Charlie’s place in Mirielle’s life.

“[Mirielle] really ought to apologize to Irene. Slamming the door in her face had been a bit much. Mirielle wasn’t sure where all that silly anger had come from. Trouble was, it boiled inside her still. Every time she passed by the living room and caught the scent of flowers. Every time she heard Irene laughing. Every time she came home to Christmas music playing on the phonograph or new decorations strung on the walls. Of course Irene would be merry. She had a son who sent her flowers and only two tests to go before she could see him again. Mirielle had more than twice that many tests to go and a husband vacationing in the goddamned Swiss Alps.”

After Irene receives flowers, Mirielle wallows in self-pity because she views Irene as someone who is loved by her family outside of Carville, and Mirielle is growing increasingly certain that this is not true for her. Irene’s tests also cause Mirielle to be jealous, as she is eager to prove that she can beat the disease. Mirielle will realize how tragically wrong she was about Irene’s life after Irene’s death by suicide, and this helps her put her own life into perspective.

“It was an escape from the tedium of their daily lives and the horrors of their disease. It gave the residents something to talk about in the dressing clinics when she unbandaged and cleaned their feet. Something besides their weeping ulcers and nodulated skin. It gave the women in the infirmary something to look forward to when nothing but pain and medicine filled their days.”

Here, Mirielle is referring to the holiday parties that Frank and the What Cheer Club organize. She teases him for living for the holidays but recognizes that these holiday celebrations are meaningful: Not only do they buoy the spirits of the patients at Carville, but they create camaraderie and connection among the residents. Though the celebrations rely on handmade décor and other relatively meager elements, they are more meaningful and enjoyable for Mirielle than the lavish social events she once attended in Los Angeles.

“‘And how about the disgust people feel at the word ‘leper’? Ya gonna find a cure for that too?’ [Frank asked].

No one need know, [Mirielle] almost said. But a cure wouldn’t fix Frank’s hands. Or give the blind back their sight. The amputees back their legs.”

Mirielle and Frank repeatedly differ in their view about the best course of action regarding their condition. Mirielle resists accepting that she is confined to Carville and feels the best approach is to proactively take what steps she can in working toward a cure. Frank, on the other hand, has accepted his situation and recognizes that Carville is his permanent home. He knows that he would never again be fully accepted by the outside world, but he also knows he can lead a fulfilling life without that acceptance. Gradually, Mirielle comes to understand his point of view.

“‘I wish I’d never stepped foot in that operating room.’

‘You proved yourself very able that night. The baby might have died were it not for your assistance.’

Mirielle hadn’t considered that. She’d felt sick about the role she’d played, as if in helping deliver the baby she was complicit in taking him away too.”

Mirielle is devasted by the lack of agency Elena has in her baby’s life. As a mother separated from her children, Mirielle knows the pain that Elena will experience at being separated from her son. No easy answer exists for Elena’s situation, but Mirielle feels that at least she has done some good by assisting with the safe birth of the infant.

“Mirielle realized how divided she had become, a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde of sorts, living two separate lives. How would she knit these lives together when the ordeal of her disease was over? They were utterly dissimilar – her life before, her life after. She certainly couldn’t go back to the way things had been before her diagnosis. Charlie hated that woman, and – if she were being honest with herself – Mirielle did too. But she couldn’t go back to the happy-go-lucky person she’d been before Felix’s death either. Time and fate had killed that woman. Mirielle only had who she was now.”

Mirielle recognizes that her time at Carville has changed her. She is now living a much more purpose-filled life, doing work that is enriching, and developing meaningful relationships. Here, her words suggest Mirielle prefers the person she is becoming but does not foresee fitting this new person back into her old life.

“‘You’re a leper too, Mirielle.’ [Frank] held up his ruined hands inches from her face. ‘The same bacteria that did this to me is festering inside you. Has been for years. And no matter when ya get your parole, it will still be inside ya. A stupid slip of paper from the health service ain’t going to change that. And trust me, the people out there’ – he gestured to the vacant road and sloping levee beyond the fence – ‘your family, your husband, they think you’re just as disgusting as me.’”

Frank’s anger toward Mirielle is clear here, as he reminds her that they are in the same boat. The difference is that Frank can’t hide his condition while Mirielle does not have any obvious signs of the disease. Frank’s point here is that even if the disease isn’t visible, the disease will change people’s perception of Mirielle for the rest of her life. Both literally and metaphorically, the disease will never leave her.

“‘I think of my son every day, Mrs. Marvin.’ [Sister Verena] paused, looking down at the candies in her hand. ‘I gave him up not because I didn’t love him, but because I didn’t want to burden him with shame. The shame of being a bastard. It was the only gift I had to give him.’ She offered Mirielle another heart, then flung the rest of the candies over her shoulder into the grass. ‘Right or wrong, your disease carries a stigma too. Would you risk that on your daughter?’”

Though Mirielle initially believes that Sister Verena cannot empathize with the pain she feels at being separated from her children, Sister Verena insists she does understand. She explains that she acted in the best interest of her son, not herself, in relinquishing him and urges Mirielle to think about what’s best for her daughter in the same way.

“There were a few men she hadn’t queried, but how long could Mirielle go on following flimsy leads and desperate hunches? Jean could have left her father’s house and decided to become a lion tamer in a circus for all Mirielle knew. Perhaps it was time she faced the truth. Mirielle had failed at finding Jean, just like she’d failed at beating the disease, and failed at being a mother.”

Here, Mirielle reveals that she feels like a failure in every aspect of life that is meaningful to her. Being diagnosed with Hansen’s disease is a catalyst for her inner journey, that at this point, is embodied by her inability to find Jean.

“‘One of the actors – Charlie West – he’s my husband.’ Mirielle slipped a hand into her pocket, her fingers tracing the raised edge of the stamp. She knew without reading it what the letter said. ‘Was my husband. He’s divorcing me.’

The flatness of her voice surprised Mirielle. She ought to be choked up or crying. But at least one of them deserved to be free. And knowing Charlie forgave her, that he’d never blamed her at all, gave her a certain bittersweet freedom as well. Maybe at long last, she could forgive herself too.”

Mirielle is finally able to explain her reason for running out of the film to Frank, taking an important step in repairing their relationship and accepting the reality of her relationship with Charlie. That Mirielle is not saddened or angered by Charlie’s decision to end their marriage suggests it is a wise course for both of them. Importantly, they voice their feelings about Felix’s death honestly, and this paves the way for both of them to begin to heal.

“[Mirielle] glanced around at all the things that had once seemed so important – her wardrobe full of dresses and shoes and hats, her collection of creams and makeup, her silver comb and brush set. If the flood did come, it would all be lost. She wadded up a blanket, fished Irene’s ring from her purse, and untaped one of Evie’s drawings from the wall. Everything else would have to remain.”

Mirielle has transformed dramatically from the woman she was upon her arrival at Carville. Not only has she become less materialistic, but she has learned that people are what is most valuable in life. Instead of focusing on material possessions, Mirielle takes items like Irene’s ring and her daughter’s drawing because they represent the love they have shown to Mirielle.

“[Charlie’s] final words surprised [Mirielle] the most.

I could tell from your letters you’d come to yourself again, made a second life despite your ghastly circumstances. You inspired me to do the same. It’s what Felix would want for us, after all. I’m only sorry we couldn’t do it together.”

Though Mirielle often felt an inability to connect with Charlie via the letters she sent from Carville, she unknowingly did convey a great deal of who she had become. That Charlie could sense her change is a testimony to just how profound a change Mirielle has undergone. Charlie has no ill feelings toward her, which shows he has developed new respect and empathy for her.

“Had Mirielle come to herself again like Charlie had said? Made a second life? Whether or not the flood spared Carville, there was still no cure for their disease. What kind of life was it when you lived caged behind a fence, an outcast from the rest of the world? She laid her head on the edge of Jean’s cot and closed her eyes. This certainly wasn’t the life she would have chosen. But Charlie was right; it was a life nonetheless. And she was lucky not to have to go though it alone.”

Though Mirielle has been focused on leaving Carville, she is coming to realize that this may not be possible. More importantly, she does not resist this reality and begins to accept that she can live a rich and meaningful life there.