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88 pages 2 hours read

Ann E. Burg

All the Broken Pieces

Fiction | Novel | Middle Grade | Published in 2009

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Pages 84-123Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Page 84-123 Summary

On Saturday, Matt’s parents go to a funeral, and Matt hears them talking about how the deceased person “lived a good life” (83). He wonders, if people don’t live well, if they “do something terrible,” then “do they ever find peace?” (83). Because Matt’s parents are attending the funeral, Jeff takes Matt to his baseball game, and Matt is excited to ride in Jeff’s silver Corvette. Even though the Lions win, Matt “bobble[s] a hit” (85) because he looks back to see if Jeff is watching, and the other team gets a run. Rob asks him, “What’s the matter, Frog-face?” (85) in response to his fumble.

Jeff takes Matt out to lunch, but Matt is still upset about the game, even though Jeff tells him that “even Ron Guidry / makes mistakes” (86). Then Jeff says he wants to talk about Vietnam, and fear “explodes” (87) inside Matt, “shattering everything” like “a thousand / scattered bullets” (87). Matt flashes back to a scene where he’s running through mud and rain, struggling to carry his brother’s “bruised and wailing body” (89) home to his mom, who tells Matt what happened isn’t his “fault”—he’s not the one “who leaves traps / for small children” (89).

Matt comes out of the flashback to find Jeff is sitting on his side of the restaurant booth, comforting him. When Jeff takes Matt home, his mother and father are back, but Tommy is still with a neighbor. Jeff says he wanted to “ask” Matt something, “but he got upset” (92). Matt is confused, and finally his mom says she and Matt’s father have “been meaning to talk to you” (94)—and Matt is sure they’re going to send him away. He panics, wondering “how many more piggyback rides / [he’ll] give Tommy” (94) and how much longer he can sleep in his own bed.

Matt’s mom says she wants Matt “to stop running” (96), and Matt grows even more confused—he’s trying to stay, not run. Matt’s dad reminds Matt that Jeff was a medic in Vietnam, and he starts talking about men with “missing fingers / and arms / or even legs” (97), perplexing Matt further. Jeff says that Matt might be able to help these people, and his mom adds that Matt might get help too—and Matt starts to realize that “they are not / sending [him] away” (98). Instead, they’re encouraging him to attend a meeting of Vietnam veterans called Veteran Voices.

 

Matt’s mom takes him to the Veteran Voices meeting room before the meeting so that he’ll feel comfortable. Matt is so nervous he feels like he’s “in an elevator / that won’t stop climbing” (99), and he has the same sensation when his father takes him to an actual meeting. Matt is surprised to see the vets wearing casual clothes, and even peace signs on their jackets. Matt thinks that instead of “soldiers,” they simply “look like / beat-up men” (101). Jeff is at the meeting as well, but Matt can’t imagine Jeff holding a weapon like the rest of these men have.

Matt and his dad have arrived after the meeting itself is over, when the vets are mingling, and Jeff introduces Matt to a man named Christopher. Matt notices Christopher’s “clear, light blue” eyes like “circles of pool water” amid the “crater[ed]” (104) surface of his scarred face. Jeff explains to Matt that Christopher was a talented pitcher known as “Whirlin’ Will” (104) before the war, but now he is missing an arm and uses a wheelchair. Matt’s dad tells Christopher he was “sorry to hear about Celia” (106), and it becomes clear the two men know each other. Matt’s dad starts talking about their mutual high-school friends and says that Matt’s pitching skill reminds him of Chris’s.

On the way home, Matt asks who Celia is, and Matt’s dad answers that he was Chris’s wife who left him. Chris and Celia were “high-school sweethearts” (109), Matt’s dad explains, until “the war changed Chris” (109). In fact, Matt’s father adds, “the war changed us all” (109). Matt’s parents used to be close friends with Celia and Chris, but the war damaged that relationship too. Matt starts thinking of all the lives “ruined” (111) by the war and blaming himself. “Because of you,” he imagines Chris telling him, “my wife left” (111). And “because of you,” he concludes, picturing his own brother speaking to him, “I have stumps instead of legs” (111).

At home, Matt’s parents tell him they’ll support him whether or not he goes back to the meetings, but Matt does want to return—he “hope[s] it works / out for someone, / maybe even / for me” (112). Matt asks his dad why he didn’t go to Vietnam, and his dad says he went to medical school instead—it was “a legitimate deferment” (113). Matt’s dad wanted to be a doctor ever since he was a kid, when he found a bird who’d fallen from the nest and wanted to care for it, but the bird flew away on its own. Matt’s dad has always hoped to help people, but seeing what’s happened to Chris and Jeff, he questions if the choice to become a doctor “was […] enough” (114). At night, Matt hears his mom urging his dad to “stop feeling guilty” (115), and Matt wonders if adopting him was a way for Matt’s father to assuage his guilt—“maybe for Dad,” Matt thinks, he’s “like the coin / you drop in the poor box / at church” (115).

On the day of Matt’s next baseball game, it’s very cold, and Matt doesn’t play his best. While Coach Robeson encourages the players to simply try their hardest despite the weather, Rob asks Matt, “Hey, Frog-face […] Playin’ for the other team today?” (118). In the end, Matt’s team barely “squeak[s] by” (118) with a small victory. Later, Matt watches Tommy while his mother makes dinner. Because the bad weather is continuing, they play with Tommy’s toys inside and Tommy climbs on Matt’s back, pretending to ride Matt like he’s a horse.

The next week, a storm keeps the baseball team inside during practice, and Coach Robeson tells each team member to take one of the old baseballs he’s provided and start opening it up. They take off the leather covers, then a layer of twine, then wool yarn they have to unravel so that “unwrapped baseballs / zoom in every direction” (121). When each boy has revealed a small rubber ball, Coach asks who thinks “you’ve reached the heart of the ball” (122), and every boy believes he has. However, Coach tells them that “if you cut deeper” (122), the boys would discover the rubber is “another protective layer” (122), and beneath it is a cork core—“the heart of the ball” (122). Coach hopes that “a closer look” (123) beneath the surface will help the boys understand how the baseball works—and the same strategy might apply to larger issues in life. Matt isn’t so sure he agrees, but he still puts “all the broken pieces” (123) of his ball in his pocket for safekeeping. 

Pages 84-123 Analysis

This section begins with further development of the theme of guilt in All the Broken Pieces. When Matt overhears his parents talking about a funeral they attended, he jumps to wondering what happens if a dead person has done “something terrible” (83). He asks himself: “Do they ever find peace?” (83). Considering Matt doesn’t even know the deceased person, he seems to be thinking about himself, and to believe that he has done “something terrible” he’s not sure can be forgiven. In a following scene, readers begin to understand why Matt may feel so guilty: when Matt’s piano teacher Jeff asks him about Vietnam, Matt has a flashback to a time when he carried his injured, “wailing” brother, and his mother told him his brother’s injuries weren’t his “fault” (89)—but readers aren’t sure if Matt believed her.

After the flashback, Matt and his parents have a discussion that assuages one of Matt’s fears, but also presents new challenges. Matt’s parents finally reveal the full intention behind the whispered conversations that worried Matt: they want Matt to attend Vietnam veterans’ meetings with Jeff, and they are not, as Matt suspected, planning to send him away. Rather, they hope that by connecting with others who’ve experienced the horrors of Vietnam, and eventually sharing his own story, Matt can “stop running, / or, at least […] find out / what it is you’re running from” (96). Matt seems to be running from his own memories and feelings of culpability—particularly those involving his injured brother—but as he won’t even relive the full story in his own mind, readers sense he still has a long road to travel before he can feel truly safe with his adoptive family.

As Matt agrees to attend the veterans’ meetings, the author further explores the theme of the Vietnam War’s legacy, for Americans as well as Vietnamese transplants like Matt. Matt is surprised to see the vets look not like strong, capable soldiers, but like “beat-up men” (101). The author suggests that the war—and the negative attitudes toward veterans back in the U.S.—has broken these young men who once had promising futures ahead of them. In fact, this section introduces one such young man in particular, Chris “Whirlin’ Will” Williams, who has a particular connection with Matt: Chris was a talented pitcher like Matt, until Chris lost his arm fighting in Vietnam. As Matt’s father tells him, Chris lost not only his athletic ability to the war, but also his wife—Chris’s wife left him because “the war changed Chris” (109). Furthermore, as Matt’s father puts it, the war “changed us all” (109). Matt must continue to wrestle with the conflict that originated in his homeland, and that has caused so much damage and suffering.

In a further development of the novel’s theme of guilt, Matt believes the war and its negative impact are his responsibility—“Because of you,” he hears in his mind, “my wife left,” just like, as Rob told Matt earlier, “Because of you, my brother died” (111). The brunt of Matt’s guilt, however, still seems to rest on his experience with his own brother, whom he imagines saying: “Because of you, I have stumps instead of legs” (111). Matt feels so culpable for his brother’s fate that he takes even more blame onto himself and doesn’t consider himself worthy of love and acceptance. When he overhears his father expressing his own guilt, wondering if he made the right choice by staying in the U.S. to become a doctor rather than fighting in Vietnam, Matt again doubts his own worth. In yet another example of the novel’s exploration of guilt and forgiveness, Matt wonders if for his father, Matt is “like the coin / you drop in the poor box / at church” (115). He worries that his father sees adopting Matt as an act of charity rather than love, and as a result, he demonstrates that he still isn’t fully comfortable in his new life.

This section also further explores the motif of baseball, as Matt’s emotional turmoil affects his concentration, and he doesn’t always play perfectly. Matt’s coach, parents, and Jeff all continue to praise him, telling him they only expect him to “play your best” (116) and will love him whether he’s a baseball star or not. Matt, however, still lacks the self-confidence to internalize the message. In addition, the author intertwines the baseball motif with the symbolism of broken pieces, as Coach Robeson has the team unravel baseballs, encouraging them to find out what’s at “the heart of the ball” (122). While Matt isn’t sure the exercise helped him “understand anything better” (123), he still keeps “all the broken pieces” (123) of his ball. On the one hand, by clinging to broken bits, Matt reveals his lingering insecurity and fear he might lose the things he values; from another perspective, Matt has previously stated that these broken pieces are “worth something” (59) to him. Therefore, Matt’s decision to hold on to the baseball fragments shows that he finds baseball valuable and meaningful as well.

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