Favorite Characters: Boris (The Goldfinch)

 

(No picture of the character in question - that's the downside of being from a book with no illustrations or film/theatre/TV adaptations.)

 

Although the The Goldfinch has a fine collection of beautifully drawn, well-shaped characters, my hands-down favorite is Theo’s friend Boris.  He’s at once archetypal and staggeringly unique, and his strong unpredictable streak makes for excellent drama.

 

At first glance, Boris is, narratively speaking, pretty routine.  When Theo moves unhappily out to Vegas, Boris is the one boy with whom Theo really connects, a kinetic wildcard and classic Bad Influence.  With Boris’s irrepressible encouragement, Theo slides into aimless nights of drinking and getting high, and the two boys numb their respective struggles in a haze.  In adulthood, Boris is the cheerful ne’er-do-well compared to the seemingly respectable Theo.  (Not really – Theo gets into plenty of trouble on his own, but it’s all under the surface.)

 

It’s a character type most people have seen before, one with a clearly-established function operating under specific storytelling conventions.  However, while Boris’s framework falls into familiar patterns, his details continually defy expectations.  He’s a shrewd boy pieced together from a patchwork of environments; though he’s Russian-Polish by birth, he’s lived all over the world and had experiences remarkable for his age.  His nomadic lifestyle contributes to his Russianate gestures, his medley of an accent that’s more Australian than anything else, and his hodgepodge of international knowledge, words, and aphorisms.  He feels very authentically formed by his experiences.  I love the little touches added to his “page business,” like his disdain for his American government class, or his habit of bestowing Russian nicknames.

 

Personality-wise, Boris is similarly composed of many different threads.  He’s audacious, defiant, and reckless.  He falls easily, charmingly, into conversation with just about anyone, and he’s always hungry for companionship.  He’s full of jokes, anecdotes, and strong opinions.  He loves affectionately and hard with more-than-average ferocity and not-always-typical ways of expressing that love.  He’s almost incurably impulsive, but he worries greatly over the welfare of those he cares about.  Even when he grows up and gets involved in shady, dangerous dealings, he maintains his gregarious jocularity and warmness – I love that about him.

 

What’s more, Boris really is a true friend to Theo.  He’s ill-equipped to give Theo that kind of help that he needs, because Boris is just as screwed up in different ways, but the boys form a sort of “chosen family” together.  Boris looks out for Theo as much as he’s able, even if, in his mind, that includes teaching Theo self-sufficiency through shoplifting or plying him with substances necessary to dull his pain.  Their relationship is intense, messy, and not entirely healthy, but they cling to and lean on one another, helping each other through their disorienting lives.

 

(Spoilers in the last paragraph – be warned.)  Finally, in the second half of the book, Boris demonstrates, despite his extremely misguided methods, just how well he understands Theo.  He initially takes the painting as a joke and of course gets into all kinds of trouble with it, but his anxiousness to correct his mistake has nothing to do with the illegality of keeping it, the civic responsibility of returning it to the gallery, or any potential monetary reward.  No, his chief aim is to give it back so Theo can hide it under his bed or in closet, so he can look at it whenever he wants.  There’s something so sweet and lovely in that idea – he gets that Theo needs the painting intrinsically, at his core, and any other desires, risks, or benefits come secondary to that need.