Bel Bare’s Breaking the Girl is a book that’s hard to pin down and put down! At first glance, it might seem like a straightforward tale about grief, love, and self-discovery. However, as you dive deeper into its pages, the novel reveals itself to be a rich tapestry woven with spiritual symbolism, fairy tale archetypes, and hidden teachings. It’'s a novel that demands more than a casual read; it’s one that invites reflection on both the mystical and the mundane aspects of the human experience.

At the heart of the novel is Ash, a young woman navigating the aftermath of her twin sister Edie’s death. Ash’s journey is one of spiritual awakening, though she doesn’t yet realise it as she stumbles through a world of confusion, grief, and emotional chaos. The novel begins with a powerful observation on grief, echoed in Ash’s reflection: “Some things in life don’t seem to have a beginning or an ending. You can’t be sure if these things nourish or erode your soul—but you still let them consume you as if entranced by a flame, waiting to be burned.” This haunting line captures the essence of Ash’s emotional and spiritual journey, speaking to the unknowable nature of grief and the painful process of transformation.

Her journey mirrors that of the classic “orphan heroine” found in so many fairy tales. She’s cast adrift, unsure of where she belongs or who she’s meant to be. And much like those fairy tale heroines, Ash is forced to confront darkness within herself before she can begin to heal and reclaim her sense of identity. Through her grief, she must learn to reconcile the parts of herself that have been fractured by trauma.

The novel taps into a number of well-worn literary archetypes, the most prominent of which is the “forbidden house” trope. La Quinta, the dilapidated mansion where Ash and a group of surfers live, is a space that pulls you in with its mystique, yet threatens to swallow you whole with its darkness. “Everybody knew 1991 Monaco Street was more than a house. It was a breeding ground for mayhem. It was magnetic. It was a wolves den. It was where the pack feasted on their night’s catch. Where lost boys would seek shelter.” This passage introduces La Quinta as a place of both allure and danger, a house filled with secrets, where the boundaries between reality and the supernatural blur. Like the enchanted castles in fairy tales, La Quinta functions as both a prison and a place of potential transformation.

On one level, La Quinta is a metaphor for Ash’s emotional state. It’s a house falling apart, its walls barely holding together, crumbling, much like Ash’s psyche. But the house is also a space of spiritual possibility, where Ash’s encounter with the unexpected and the mystical leads her toward deeper self-understanding. It’s in La Quinta that Ash starts to peel back the layers of grief and pain that have kept her trapped in emotional limbo. The house, in all its decrepitude, becomes the backdrop for her transformation, under the forcible surges of violence under Jay’s hand.

One of the novel’s most striking characters is Nebraska, a figure who moves between the physical world and the spiritual realm. Nebraska’s role is to serve as a guide of sorts, one who appears to those on the verge of death or transformation. Her presence in the novel is both unsettling and magnetic—she’s a figure that seems to embody the wisdom of the ages, yet she’s just as enigmatic as the house she inhabits. Nebraska teaches Ash—though indirectly—that in order to heal, one must confront not just the material world but also the unseen forces that shape our lives. When Nebraska speaks, it’s with an almost ethereal wisdom that cuts to the core of the novel’s spiritual message. “For you, he is everywhen,”the canorous words trickled down Ash’s spine. “My beloved is mine, and I am his, he feedeth among the lilies until the day break, and the shadows flee away.” This cryptic and biblical message, hints at Nebraska’s role as a guide between life and death, and serves as a call to Ash (and the reader) to look beyond the surface into the deeper truths that await.

Nebraska’s appearances, often linked to characters near death, evoke a sense of liminality—the space between life and death, waking and dreaming, the known and the unknown. This is a theme that runs throughout Breaking the Girl; many of the characters, particularly Ash, are in a state of transition. Nebraska’s role as a guide between these two realms is a reminder that growth often comes through moving between worlds—the physical and the spiritual, the conscious and the unconscious. Her very existence calls Ash (and us, the readers) to look beyond the surface of things and ask the bigger questions about what lies beyond life as we know it.

The storm that devastates La Quinta is another powerful symbol in the novel. It’s a scene of total destruction, a cleansing force that rips through the house and forces Ash to reckon with the chaotic, unpredictable forces within herself. The storm is both literal and symbolic—tearing apart the house is akin to tearing apart the emotional walls Ash has built around herself in an effort to shield her from the pain of loss. The storm represents the destruction that precedes rebirth, reflecting the need to confront and destroy old emotional patterns before moving forward. Just as the storm dismantles the house, Ash’s emotional barriers are also torn down, forcing her to face her grief and her own spiritual disconnection. The storm is a necessary chaos that leads to a new beginning—teaching us that, in life, destruction is sometimes the catalyst for renewal.

The ocean, with its wild and unpredictable nature, plays a significant role in Ash’s transformation. The surfers, particularly Jay, embody the call of the wild—the allure of freedom and the dangers that come with it. Jay represents both the raw, untamed aspects of life and the temptation of living recklessly. Ash’s relationship with Jay serves as a mirror to her own internal struggle between embracing life’s wildness and understanding the deeper, more spiritual lessons that lie beyond fleeting pleasures. The ocean calls to Ash, just as desire calls to us all, but it also requires respect and understanding. “Out they paddled fiercely, like a flock of gulls closing in on a decanted fish, before escaping out of view under the pounding waves. From the shore, it looked like a fight. From the water, it looked like love.” This beautifully lyrical description of the surfers’ relationship with the sea reflects the tension between desire, freedom, and the uncontrollable forces of nature. The comparison of the surfers’ struggle with the ocean to a kind of love speaks to the primal and passionate nature of desire that both pulls and challenges Ash throughout her journey.

The three men who sleep through the storm and exist in a passive, inert state are a clear reflection of what happens when one fails to confront the deeper truths of life. Their presence is a subtle reminder that spiritual growth requires movement—both emotionally and physically. The three men exist in a state of spiritual paralysis, a stark contrast to Ash’s own journey. They are, in a sense, the “anti-heroic” figures in the novel—trapped in inertia, unwilling or unable to change, while Ash’s transformation is just beginning. Their role in the story serves as a warning against spiritual stagnation—the danger of remaining passive in the face of life’s challenges. Ash’s journey is one of active transformation, and these men serve as a reminder of what happens when one refuses to confront the darkness within.

As the story unfolds, it becomes clear that Breaking the Girl is much more than just a novel about a girl overcoming grief and searching for her place in the world. It’s a tale about the spiritual journey we all must undertake to heal, grow, and ultimately transform. The spiritual lessons embedded in the novel—the storm’s cleansing, the liminality of Nebraska’s role, the need to confront darkness and desire—are universal. In a world that often pushes us toward passivity and conformity, Ash’s journey toward self-discovery is a much-needed reminder that true growth often comes through trial, destruction, and rebirth.

Bare’s novel is a beautifully crafted meditation on grief, transformation, and the mysteries of life and death. It’s a story about the things we lose, the things we gain, and the spaces in between that define us. In its most profound sense, Breaking the Girl challenges us to look beyond the surface of things and seek the deeper truths that lie beneath, waiting to be discovered.