Chapter 4
Unexpected Friendship with Michael Holden
Into Victoria's carefully maintained isolation bursts Michael Holden-a boy with mismatched eyes, enormous glasses, and an inexplicable enthusiasm for life that both irritates and fascinates Victoria. Their first meeting sets the tone for their relationship: Michael dramatically recognizes Victoria, shouts her full name, and immediately tries to involve her in investigating Solitaire. His energy is the perfect foil to Victoria's apathy.
What makes Michael such a compelling character is his refusal to accept Victoria's self-imposed isolation. When she asks why he wants to be friends with her when they're not similar in any way, he offers a profound insight: "There's a time and place for being normal. For most people, normal is their default setting. But for some, like you and me, normal is something we have to bring out, like putting on a suit for a posh dinner." This recognition that they're both outsiders-albeit in different ways-forms the foundation of their connection.
Their relationship develops through a series of unexpected encounters. When Victoria's brother Charlie has a mental health crisis, Michael appears at her house the next day, making chocolate cake with her seven-year-old brother Oliver and watching movies until they both cry at The Royal Tenenbaums. When Victoria impulsively visits Michael's clifftop home, they spend the day ice skating (where she discovers he's actually a champion speed skater), playing music in antique shops, and watching Star Wars. These moments of genuine connection stand in stark contrast to Victoria's usual emotional detachment.
What's most striking about their friendship is how Michael sees through Victoria's carefully constructed facade. When she claims to hate reading, he catches her references to classic literature. When she insists she's boring, he vehemently disagrees. He tells her directly: "You like to act as if you care about nothing and if you carry on like that then you're going to drown in the abyss you have imagined for yourself." His ability to articulate the self-destructive nature of Victoria's worldview makes him both threatening and essential to her.
Their relationship isn't without conflict. Victoria's tendency to push people away leads to arguments where she accuses Michael of treating her like a "manically depressed psychopath." But what makes their connection meaningful is Michael's persistence-his refusal to be driven away by Victoria's defense mechanisms. In a world where Victoria believes everyone is fake, Michael's authentic, unfiltered approach to life offers a glimpse of a different way of being.
Chapter 5
Family Dynamics and Mental Health
At the heart of Victoria's story is her relationship with her brother Charlie, whose mental health struggles provide crucial context for understanding Victoria's own emotional state. Charlie has recently been through a severe crisis involving an eating disorder and self-harm that led to a suicide attempt. Though he's now in therapy and working on recovery, the impact of his illness reverberates through the family.
Victoria's relationship with Charlie is characterized by fierce protectiveness and unspoken guilt. When Charlie relapses, organizing food obsessively in the kitchen and self-harming, Victoria's immediate response is to comfort him while simultaneously blaming his boyfriend Nick for leaving him alone. Later, she reveals to Lucas that she blames herself for not recognizing the signs of Charlie's deteriorating mental health: "I saw him getting thinner and thinner and I didn't do anything."
This sense of responsibility for Charlie's wellbeing creates a complex dynamic where Victoria feels she must remain vigilant while also maintaining an appearance of normalcy. Her own emotional struggles are pushed aside as secondary to Charlie's more visible crisis. When her father lectures her about needing to "try" to be happier, she thinks bitterly that she's been trying for sixteen years-a poignant indication that her own mental health issues have gone largely unrecognized by her family.
The portrayal of Victoria's parents adds another layer to this family dynamic. Her relationship with her mother is characterized by mutual avoidance: "We're so similar that we've reached a mutual agreement there's no point trying anymore." Her father attempts to connect through literature, recommending Kafka's "Metamorphosis" and trying to nurture her intellectual interests despite her apparent lack of enthusiasm. These well-intentioned but ineffective parental approaches highlight how families can simultaneously care deeply and still fail to provide the support their children need.
What makes Oseman's portrayal of mental health so powerful is its refusal to offer simple solutions. Charlie's recovery is portrayed as an ongoing process with setbacks and small victories. Victoria's own depression (though never explicitly labeled as such) is presented as a complex condition influenced by family dynamics, social pressures, and internal thought patterns. By intertwining these narratives, Oseman creates a nuanced picture of how mental health issues ripple through families, affecting everyone in different ways.
Chapter 6
The Complexities of Teenage Friendship
Victoria's relationships with her peers reveal the complicated nature of teenage friendships. Her longest-standing friendship is with Becky Allen, a girl with attention-grabbing purple hair who Victoria considers "probably my only real friend." Yet even this relationship is fraught with unspoken tensions and misunderstandings. When Becky has sex with her almost-boyfriend Jack, Victoria fails to show appropriate interest, later learning they broke up days ago. This pattern of emotional disconnection creates a growing rift between them.
The reappearance of Lucas Ryan, Victoria's only friend from primary school, further complicates her social landscape. Their childhood friendship was based on a quiet understanding-when Lucas would cry for no particular reason, Victoria would sit with him and read books. This early connection established a pattern of Victoria feeling most comfortable with people who need her support. When Lucas transfers to her school, Victoria initially feels hopeful about rekindling their friendship, only to be confused and hurt when he begins avoiding her.
What makes these friendships particularly compelling is how they reflect different aspects of Victoria's character. Becky represents the social world Victoria feels alienated from-a world of parties, relationships, and normal teenage experiences. Lucas represents a nostalgic connection to a simpler time when friendship didn't require navigating complex social dynamics. Both relationships ultimately falter because Victoria struggles to engage authentically with others, keeping her true thoughts and feelings hidden behind a wall of cynicism and detachment.
The novel also explores the darker side of teenage social dynamics through the character of Ben Hope. Initially presented as the universally admired, perfect-haired object of everyone's affection, Ben is revealed to have a troubled history with Charlie. When Ben violently confronts Charlie about "spreading lies," we glimpse the homophobia and self-hatred that lie beneath his polished exterior. This subplot powerfully illustrates how social pressures can lead to both external aggression and internal suffering.
Oseman's portrayal of teenage friendships avoids the cliches often found in young adult fiction. There are no neat divisions between "popular kids" and "outcasts," no simplistic bullying narratives. Instead, we see complex individuals struggling to connect across the barriers of their own insecurities and defense mechanisms. When Becky tells Victoria she's changed and should find people more like her, it's not a rejection but an acknowledgment that friendships require some degree of mutual understanding and effort-something Victoria has been unwilling or unable to provide.
Chapter 7
Identity and Self-Discovery
Throughout the novel, Victoria grapples with fundamental questions about her identity. When Michael asks about her sexuality, she responds with uncertainty: "I guess I'll just go with 'straight' until proven otherwise." This casual dismissal of the question hints at Victoria's broader disconnection from her own desires and feelings. Unlike many coming-of-age stories where protagonists actively seek to discover who they are, Victoria seems resistant to self-examination, preferring the safety of cynical detachment.
This resistance to self-discovery is most evident in Victoria's relationship with literature. Despite claiming to hate reading and dismissing Pride and Prejudice as boring, she reveals a deep understanding of Mr. Darcy's character, defending him as a true hero who "struggles on, despite being so harshly treated and judged." Her English teacher Kent recognizes that Victoria identifies with Darcy rather than Elizabeth-a telling insight into how she sees herself as misunderstood and unfairly judged by others.
Victoria's blog represents another facet of her identity struggle. "I've realized I'm more of a blog than an actual person," she reflects, suggesting that her online presence has become more authentic than her real-life interactions. This digital extension of self is common for many teenagers, but for Victoria, it represents a deeper fragmentation-a sense that her true self exists only in the private space of her online thoughts.
The novel's exploration of identity extends beyond Victoria to include other characters. Charlie's journey of recovery involves reclaiming his identity after his mental health crisis, while Ben Hope's violent outburst reveals the painful disconnect between his public persona and private struggles with his sexuality. Michael Holden's declaration that he's "a little bit in love with everyone I meet" challenges conventional labels, while his hidden life as a champion speed skater reveals the complexity behind his seemingly simple eccentricity.
What makes Oseman's approach to identity particularly nuanced is her refusal to provide easy answers or transformative revelations. Victoria doesn't suddenly discover her "true self" or undergo a dramatic personality change. Instead, the novel suggests that identity is something continuously negotiated through relationships and experiences. When Victoria writes "I AM VICTORIA ANNABEL SPRING" on her arm, it's both an assertion of selfhood and a recognition of how tenuous that selfhood feels.
Chapter 8
The Climactic Confrontation
As Solitaire's pranks escalate in danger and Victoria becomes increasingly obsessed with uncovering the truth, the novel builds toward a dramatic confrontation. The revelation that Lucas created Solitaire specifically to bring excitement into Victoria's life comes as a shocking twist. His confession that he saw her playing solitaire in the common room looking "dead" and muttering "I hate myself" recontextualizes the entire mystery-what seemed like a school-wide phenomenon was actually a misguided attempt to connect with one specific person.
The final confrontation takes place during a planned school burning, where Lucas has had second thoughts but his co-conspirators Aaron (Quiff) and Evelyn are determined to proceed. When Becky confronts them, her passionate speech cuts to the heart of Solitaire's misguided philosophy: "You think you're so intellectually superior... You think sadness is some kind of disease." This moment represents a powerful rejection of the romanticized nihilism that Solitaire embodies.
Despite Becky's intervention, a fire breaks out in the school, creating chaos as students flee the burning building. In this moment of crisis, Victoria finds herself on the art conservatory's concrete roof, looking down at the snowy ground below. The scene perfectly crystallizes her emotional journey throughout the novel-standing at the literal edge, contemplating whether life is worth the struggle it requires.
What makes this climactic scene so powerful is how it brings together all the novel's themes. As Victoria contemplates jumping, she reflects on the various relationships in her life-Lucas's tragedy, Becky and her growing apart, Charlie and Nick's "unconventional paradise," Ben Hope's self-hatred. This moment of extreme crisis becomes a lens through which she views her entire social world.
The arrival of Michael on the roof provides the emotional climax of the story. His confession that he too wanted the school to burn, that he struggles to make friends and feel normal, creates a moment of profound connection. "Some people aren't meant for school," he tells her. "That doesn't mean they aren't meant for life." This distinction between institutional failure and personal worthlessness offers Victoria a crucial new perspective on her struggles.
Their kiss on the roof isn't presented as a magical cure for Victoria's depression or a conventional romantic resolution. Instead, it represents a moment of genuine human connection-something Victoria has been avoiding throughout the novel. Her realization that she no longer wants to jump isn't framed as a happy ending but as a first step: "I'm not fixed," she acknowledges, but she's chosen to remain in the world rather than escape it.
Chapter 9
Beyond the Ashes: Finding Connection
The aftermath of the school fire brings a tentative sense of resolution without offering unrealistic transformation. In Nick's car with Michael, Lucas, Becky, Charlie and Nick, Victoria experiences a rare moment of genuine connection as Charlie tells her he noticed her struggles but didn't act. Their exchange of "I love you"s marks perhaps the first time they've verbalized their sibling bond, suggesting that authentic communication is possible even after years of silence.
Becky's sardonic comment that if this is "the best time of our lives," she "might as well end it immediately" captures the novel's rejection of platitudes about teenage happiness. Instead of presenting adolescence as a golden time of freedom and discovery, Solitaire acknowledges its profound difficulties while suggesting that connection with others makes these difficulties bearable.
The novel's final reflections come as the group crosses the frozen river with smoke trailing behind them in the sky. Becky observes that Solitaire just wanted them to feel like they belonged to something important: "We're all waiting for something to change. Patience can kill you." This statement recontextualizes the novel's title-"Solitaire" isn't just about isolation but about the dangerous patience of waiting for life to improve without taking action.
Victoria's concluding thoughts are deliberately ambiguous: "I don't know what will happen to our school or to us, or how long I'll be like this. But I know I'm here, alive, and not alone." This isn't a triumphant declaration of healing or happiness. Instead, it's a modest acknowledgment that continuing to exist and maintaining connections with others represents a significant achievement in itself.
What makes this ending so powerful is its refusal to offer easy answers or dramatic transformations. Victoria hasn't overcome her depression or suddenly become a different person. Michael hasn't "saved" her through romantic love. Instead, they've both recognized that genuine human connection-with all its complications and difficulties-provides an alternative to isolation. The school may be in ashes, but the connections formed through crisis offer the possibility of something new emerging from the destruction.
In this way, Solitaire presents a vision of adolescence that acknowledges its profound difficulties while suggesting that these difficulties can be survived through authentic connection with others. Victoria's journey isn't about becoming happy or normal but about finding ways to remain in the world despite its overwhelming challenges. It's a message that resonates deeply with readers who recognize their own struggles in Victoria's story-a reminder that even in our most isolated moments, connection remains possible.
Chapter 10
The Power of Authentic Voice in a Digital Age
What ultimately makes Solitaire such a compelling exploration of teenage life is its unflinching authenticity. Victoria's voice-cynical, observant, and painfully honest-captures the particular alienation of being a teenager in the digital age. Her observation that "I overthink things, get sad about them, blog, sleep, and will eventually die" distills the existential anxiety that characterizes adolescence for many young people.
The novel's exploration of online identity feels particularly prescient. Written in 2012, before social media had fully transformed teenage social dynamics, Solitaire anticipates many of the tensions that would come to define digital adolescence-the gap between online and offline personas, the way virtual connections can both alleviate and intensify feelings of isolation, and the potential for online platforms to become spaces of both expression and manipulation.
Victoria's blog represents a private space where she can express thoughts that would be deemed unacceptable in person: "It's not socially acceptable to say sad things out loud in the real world without being labeled attention-seeking." This observation highlights how digital spaces can provide crucial outlets for emotional expression while simultaneously reinforcing the expectation that such expressions should remain hidden from everyday life.
Solitaire itself represents the darker potential of digital platforms-their ability to coordinate real-world actions, create communities around destructive ideologies, and manipulate vulnerable individuals. When Lucas reveals he created Solitaire specifically to bring excitement into Victoria's life after seeing her play solitaire while muttering "I hate myself," we see how digital manipulation can arise from misguided attempts at connection.
The novel's exploration of mental health is similarly authentic. Victoria's unnamed depression manifests not as dramatic sadness but as a pervasive numbness-a feeling of being "practically dead inside" while going through the motions of normal teenage life. Charlie's eating disorder and self-harm are presented not as dramatic plot devices but as ongoing struggles requiring therapy, support, and acceptance of occasional relapses.
Perhaps most importantly, Solitaire refuses to offer simple solutions to complex problems. Victoria doesn't experience a magical cure for her depression. The school's destruction doesn't create a utopian new beginning. Relationships remain complicated, communication remains difficult, and the future remains uncertain. Yet within this realistic framework, the novel offers a modest but meaningful hope-the possibility of authentic connection in a world that often feels designed to prevent it.
As Victoria reflects in the final pages, "I don't know what will happen to our school or to us, or how long I'll be like this. But I know I'm here, alive, and not alone." In a culture that often demands dramatic transformations and happy endings, this simple acknowledgment of continued existence and connection represents a profound truth about surviving adolescence-sometimes, simply remaining in the world and maintaining connections with others is achievement enough.
