“staring out at the land he was leaving”
Narration, line 2 (p. 38)
The extract opens with a look backwards. The verb “staring” suggests fixed, almost numb attention rather than casual looking, and the progressive “was leaving” keeps the departure in motion, so the parting is drawn out rather than completed. A colon then opens a list of sunflowers, pig farms, quarries, rivers and wild garlic: a farewell inventory of home.
“even an unlit cigarette was a companion”
Narration close to Lev’s thoughts, line 14 (p. 38)
A metaphor that reveals Lev’s loneliness before the reader knows its cause: an object he is not even allowed to use becomes a friend. The word “even” implies how much more a lit one would mean. The dashes that follow add that it is something to hold on to, something with promise in it, the first hint of why the anthology calls these cigarettes significant.
“side by side with their separate aches and dreams, like a married couple”
Narration close to Lev’s thoughts, lines 17-18 (p. 38)
The simile is wry and sad. Two strangers are pushed into the intimacy of marriage, hearing each other’s snores and smelling each other’s food, yet their “separate aches and dreams” stay private. For a widower the comparison has a painful edge, because the extract later reveals the nights he spent on a hospital floor beside his dying wife. It also foreshadows a real, if limited, companionship with Lydia.
“his heart remained in his own country”
Narration close to Lev’s thoughts, line 27 (p. 38)
Lev’s plan for England is to hold himself apart, smoking in corners and shadows, to demonstrate this. The verb “remained” suggests that only his body is travelling. It is loyal but also defensive: he has decided not to belong before he arrives, which makes the hopeful ending harder to take at face value.
“herded back onto the coach”
Narration, lines 33-34 (p. 38)
The verb “herded” turns the passengers into livestock, driven back on board after a few paces on the verge, a stretch and a look at the wild flowers. The brief freedom of the roadside is set against the coach as a pen. One reading is that it previews how migrants may be handled in the new country: counted, moved and managed rather than welcomed.
“painting strange pictures in Lev’s brain that had never completely vanished”
Narration, lines 47-48 (p. 38)
The five nights on the hospital floor are remembered through their effect on Lev’s mind. Sleep is given agency, coming and going and painting images he did not choose and cannot erase. The phrase “never completely vanished” suggests grief lodged as something close to trauma, still with him long afterwards on a coach far from the ward.
“If only we were storks.”
Marina, remembered by Lev, lines 53-54, repeated on its own at line 57 (p. 39)
Marina’s wish, made as she lies in the sulphur water watching a female stork return to its high nest, is a longing to escape death: she explains that you never see a stork dying. Repeated as a one-line paragraph without speech marks, it seems to have become Lev’s own thought. Storks are migrating birds whose nests are typically used year after year, so the image also quietly fits a novel called The Road Home.
“I became very tired of the view from my window.”
Lydia, line 71 (p. 39)
Lydia’s reason for leaving a good job sounds modest, almost comic, until she explains that she began to imagine dying while looking at the same school yard, high fence and apartment block. The understatement of “very tired” hides a real fear of a life that never changes. It mirrors Lev, who spends the extract staring through a window, and it earns his serious reply that he understands.
“Lovely. Sorry. I am legal. How much please.”
Lev, practising his English, line 82 (p. 39)
Lev’s practice phrases are funny and revealing. Each fragment is a situation he expects to face: politeness, apology, proving his right to be there, and paying. “I am legal” stands out because it answers an accusation nobody has made yet. The short, disconnected sentences mimic phrase-book English and show how small his toolkit is for the world he is entering.
“how, in Lev’s heart, darkness would always fall”
Narration close to Lev’s thoughts, line 94 (p. 39)
As night comes on, Lev thinks of how darkness always arrived in Auror in the same way, from the same direction, above the same trees, all his life. The modal “would always” makes home the permanent pattern for every future night, wherever he is. The commas around “in Lev’s heart” slow the sentence and place the feeling at its centre, as home sits at the centre of him.
“his own guilt at still being alive”
Narration, line 105 (p. 40)
Since Marina’s death Lev avoids his reflection, because this is what he always sees in it. The word “still” makes survival sound like something he has failed to stop doing. It is survivor’s guilt, irrational and powerful, and it is revealed in the very coach window through which he has been watching his old life disappear.
“They ran out of trees”
Lev, line 107 (p. 40)
Lev answers Lydia’s question about why the Baryn sawmill closed in five blunt words. The understatement is darkly comic, and her reply, very bad, is just as flat. Beneath the humour is a bleak picture of a local economy that used up its own resource, leaving men like Lev with skills nobody needs. One student quoted in Pearson’s examiners’ report read the line as a sign that even nature had given up on Lev.
“England is my hope.”
Lev, lines 114-115 (p. 40)
One of the plainest sentences Lev speaks, placed straight after a list of everything his daughter Maya needs. Its simplicity makes it moving, but it can also sound desperate, as if England were the only hope left. It comes just after Lev’s cosy picture of immigrants by a coal fire, so the reader may wonder how much of the hope is built on imagination.
“aching for the comfort of nicotine or oblivion”
Narration, line 126 (p. 40)
The craving reaches its peak. Pairing “nicotine” with “oblivion” shows what the cigarette really stands for: not pleasure but escape, a way to stop feeling. After a dash the sentence ends on his getting neither, a flat and final denial. By the next stop, Lev expects, he and one of the drivers will be the only two awake, keeping a lonely vigil, one alert to the road, one aching.
“The British venerate their history”
Lev’s English class, remembered, line 134 (p. 40)
A remembered lesson in the formal register of a textbook, claiming that the British revere their past chiefly because they have never been occupied, and only now and then see that some past deeds were not good. It is an outsider’s generalisation, and it shows where Lev’s picture of Britain comes from: not experience, but things he has been told.
“make them share it with me: their infernal luck”
Lev’s thoughts in the first person, lines 148-149 (p. 41)
The narration drops into Lev’s own voice. The colon delays naming what “it” is, so “luck” lands at the end with force. The adjective “infernal” means hellish and is used almost as a curse, which makes the tone grudging and envious as well as determined. He does not plan to become English, only to take a share of what the English have.
“but my time is coming”
Lev’s thoughts, the final words, lines 149-150 (p. 41)
The extract ends on a statement of faith in the future, straight after Lev admits that the leaving was hard and bitter. The conjunction “but” turns grief into resolve. The present progressive “is coming” is confident yet unfinished: the time has not arrived. Whether this is strength or self-persuasion in the dark is the central question of the ending.