第 1 章
A Journey Through Moccasins: Finding Wisdom in Loss
Sharon Creech's "Walk Two Moons" has captivated readers since its 1994 publication, earning the prestigious Newbery Medal and becoming a staple in middle school curricula nationwide. This coming-of-age tale resonates deeply with readers of all ages through its exploration of grief, identity, and empathy. The novel's wisdom is encapsulated in its Native American proverb: "Don't judge a man until you've walked two moons in his moccasins." Beloved by celebrities like Reese Witherspoon, who featured it in her book club, and praised by educators for its emotional intelligence, the book weaves together parallel journeys-physical and emotional-that remind us how understanding others requires walking in their shoes. Its cultural impact extends beyond classrooms into discussions about processing grief and the complexity of parent-child relationships.
第 2 章
Two Journeys Intertwined: Salamanca's Quest for Understanding
Thirteen-year-old Salamanca Tree Hiddle - Sal for short - embarks on two profound journeys that weave together like threads in a tapestry. The first is a physical cross-country odyssey with her delightfully eccentric grandparents, racing their maroon Cadillac from Ohio to Idaho against an urgent deadline: her mother's birthday. The second journey unfolds through words, as Sal narrates the mysterious tale of her friend Phoebe Winterbottom to pass the endless hours on the road, each story revealing more about herself than she initially intends to share.
Sal's world changed dramatically when she was uprooted from Bybanks, Kentucky - a place where blackberry bushes grew wild and trees seemed to whisper secrets. The move to suburban Euclid, Ohio, feels like being transplanted into foreign soil. Her father chose this new beginning after her mother's departure, a decision that left Sal feeling adrift in a sea of concrete and carefully manicured lawns. In Euclid, she finds herself living next door to Phoebe Winterbottom, whose perfectly ordered life is about to unravel in ways that eerily mirror Sal's own experience.
"Beneath Phoebe's story was another one - mine," Sal confesses, gradually revealing the therapeutic nature of her storytelling. Through Phoebe's tale, she creates a safe emotional distance while processing her own complex feelings. She recounts how mysterious messages appeared on Phoebe's doorstep, how shadows seemed to lurk around corners, and how Phoebe's mother vanished one day leaving only a cryptic note - each detail carefully selected to help Sal navigate her own loss.
The narrative structure becomes increasingly layered as the miles pass. While Gram and Gramps guide their Cadillac through the changing landscape - from Ohio's flat farmlands through Wisconsin's rolling hills, across South Dakota's Badlands, and toward the mountainous west - Sal's story winds through equally varied emotional terrain. The physical landmarks they pass become metaphors for her psychological journey: the Missouri River represents the flow of memory, Mount Rushmore stands for permanence in the face of time, and the winding mountain roads mirror her circuitous path toward understanding.
This dual journey reflects the universal way humans process grief and loss. We often find it easier to examine difficult truths through the lens of others' experiences, gradually working our way toward our own painful center. As highway markers tick past and Sal's stories unfold, she inches closer to the heart of her pain - the truth about her mother's absence - while her grandparents provide the steady, loving presence she needs to face what awaits in Idaho.
第 3 章
Bravery in Different Forms: Confronting Fear and Loss
Bravery emerges as a central theme when Sal removes a spider from her desk on her first day at school. Her classmates marvel at her courage, but Sal reflects that while she doesn't fear spiders or snakes, she harbors deeper fears - of car accidents, death, cancer, and nuclear war. This moment illuminates how courage manifests differently in each person, challenging our assumptions about what constitutes bravery. The scene serves as a metaphor for how surface-level acts of courage often mask deeper, more complex fears that shape our daily lives.
"When people expect bravery," Sal observes, "you sometimes pretend to have it even when you're terrified." This insight reveals how we often wear masks of courage to meet others' expectations, hiding our true vulnerabilities. Throughout the novel, characters demonstrate this pattern of projected strength masking inner turmoil. Sal herself maintains a brave facade at school while privately grappling with overwhelming grief and uncertainty about her mother's absence.
The novel explores various forms of bravery through multiple character arcs. Phoebe's determination to find her mother, despite mounting evidence that she left voluntarily, showcases the courage required to maintain hope in the face of painful reality. Her persistent investigation, though sometimes misguided, demonstrates how bravery can manifest as stubborn optimism. Mrs. Winterbottom's journey exemplifies the courage required for self-discovery and change - leaving behind a carefully constructed identity to embrace her authentic self after years of self-suppression. Gramps's steadfast devotion to Gram through illness illustrates the quiet heroism of unwavering love and commitment, particularly when facing a partner's mortality.
Perhaps most poignant is the quiet courage of Sal's father, who continues living despite his grief. His daily struggles - maintaining routines, caring for Sal, and attempting to rebuild their lives - represent a form of bravery that often goes unrecognized. When Sal asks about flinching from touch - something she's noticed in herself - her father embraces her despite his "greasy hands and shirt," demonstrating that true bravery often lies in remaining vulnerable despite pain. This moment powerfully illustrates how courage can manifest in simple acts of emotional availability.
The contrast between Sal's Hiddle grandparents and her mother's Pickford parents further illuminates different approaches to life's challenges. While the Pickfords stand "straight as steel poles" with rigid propriety, maintaining emotional distance and control, the Hiddles embrace life's messiness with humor and spontaneity. Through these contrasting family dynamics, Creech suggests that true bravery might lie not in stoic endurance but in emotional openness and adaptability. The Hiddles' willingness to express joy, grief, and love openly - even when it's messy or uncomfortable - represents a different kind of courage: the bravery to live authentically and embrace life's full emotional spectrum.
第 4 章
Messages and Mysteries: The Search for Meaning
Mysterious messages begin appearing on Phoebe's doorstep, adding a complex layer of intrigue to the narrative. The first message - "Don't judge a man until you've walked two moons in his moccasins" - arrives like an ancient proverb, its wisdom initially lost on the young protagonists. This is followed by "In the course of a lifetime, what does it matter?" and the poetic "You can't keep the birds of sadness from flying over your head, but you can keep them from nesting in your hair." Each note appears written in precise handwriting on crisp paper, carefully placed where Phoebe will find them.
These cryptic notes, eventually revealed to come from blind Mrs. Partridge, function as philosophical guideposts for both Phoebe and Sal. Their timing proves uncannily appropriate, arriving at crucial moments when both girls grapple with difficult truths about family, loss, and acceptance. Mrs. Partridge's blindness adds another layer of meaning - suggesting that true wisdom comes from seeing beyond surface appearances.
The message "In the course of a lifetime, what does it matter?" arrives during a period of particular turmoil. It coincides with Phoebe's sister Prudence's intense distress over cheerleading tryouts - which seem momentously important to her teenage mind - and Mrs. Winterbottom's growing dissatisfaction with what she calls her "tiny life." The message forces both characters to examine their priorities and question what truly matters in life's grand scheme. For Mrs. Winterbottom, this philosophical prompt becomes the catalyst for her courageous decision to reconnect with the son she gave up for adoption years ago - a choice that will reshape her family's entire dynamic.
When Sal contemplates this same message, she initially reacts with fierce certainty that a mother leaving would definitely matter throughout one's entire life. Her conviction stems from her own raw grief over her mother's departure. Yet as her journey progresses - both physically across the country and emotionally through telling Phoebe's story - this certainty begins to crack and transform. The message about "birds of sadness" takes on particular significance when Sal observes Phoebe crying alone in her room after her mother's disappearance. In this moment, Sal understands that grief requires solitude sometimes - that "you just wanted to be alone with the birds of sadness."
These messages create an intricate mystery that mirrors the larger questions haunting both girls throughout their parallel journeys: Why did their mothers leave? Will they return? What makes a life meaningful? The search for answers drives both the literal detective work Phoebe undertakes - complete with surveillance notebooks and elaborate theories about potential kidnappings - and the emotional investigation Sal conducts through her storytelling. Each message serves as a stepping stone toward understanding, though the girls often must experience life's harder lessons before the wisdom in these notes becomes clear.
第 5 章
Family Dynamics: The Winterbottoms and Beyond
The Winterbottom household serves as a compelling foil to Sal's own family experience, illustrating how appearances often mask deeper truths. Initially, Phoebe's family presents an image of suburban perfection - polite, proper, and intact. Mrs. Winterbottom maintains an immaculate home where every surface gleams, bakes elaborate treats daily, and anticipates her family's needs with almost mechanical precision. The carefully arranged furniture, spotless windows, and meticulously organized kitchen drawers reflect their commitment to maintaining an appearance of flawless domesticity.
Yet beneath this carefully constructed facade of domestic perfection lies a web of profound unhappiness and unspoken desires. Mrs. Winterbottom's quiet sighs when her family walks past freshly baked pies without comment, her defeated expression as shopping bags are taken for granted, and her methodical note-writing reveal a woman drowning in invisible labor. Her poignant question to her daughter - "Do you think I lead a tiny life?" - becomes a pivotal moment that exposes not just an individual's crisis but a broader commentary on the suffocating nature of prescribed gender roles. The stark contrast between her initial appearance as the quintessential housewife and her dramatic transformation upon return - sporting short stylish hair, bold makeup, fashionable jeans, and dangling earrings - serves as a powerful illustration of how societal expectations can suppress authentic identity.
The Winterbottoms' rigid propriety stands in sharp relief against the vibrant chaos of the Finney household. Where the Winterbottoms have pristine surfaces and careful conversations, the Finneys embrace life's messiness. Their home buzzes with energy - footballs and basketballs scatter across rooms, young boys treat the banister as a playground slide, Mr. Finney reads philosophy while fully clothed in a bathtub, and Mrs. Finney takes unconventional naps on the garage roof. This juxtaposition suggests that perfect order might come at the cost of joy, spontaneity, and genuine human connection.
Phoebe's visits to the Finney household become particularly revealing moments. Her obsessive concerns about cholesterol levels in Mrs. Finney's cooking and her visible distress at their casual table manners demonstrate how deeply she's internalized her family's rigid worldview. Her horror at watching the Finney boys eat with their fingers or speak with their mouths full highlights not just different social norms but her fundamental struggle to navigate environments where rules differ from her own carefully structured world.
Through these contrasting family portraits, Creech masterfully explores how family dynamics fundamentally shape our worldviews and develop our coping mechanisms. Phoebe's tendency to see sinister possibilities everywhere - transforming ordinary neighbors into potential "lunatics or axe murderers" - stems directly from her upbringing in an environment where control and appearances reign supreme. Meanwhile, Sal's deep connection to nature and intuitive understanding of life's cycles reflects her rural upbringing and more organic family dynamics. Both girls have developed these distinct characteristics as responses to their family environments and as protective shields against painful truths they're not yet ready to face.
第 6 章
The Good Man: Understanding Sal's Father
Sal's father emerges as a quietly heroic figure - "the light of his parents' lives" after they lost three sons to tragic accidents. His goodness manifests in simple ways that reflect a deep authenticity: his love for plain things like twenty-year-old flannel shirts worn soft with age, his profound connection to earth and animals demonstrated through gentle farmwork, his meticulous care for their old Chevy that he maintains with religious devotion, and his thoughtfully chosen gifts that always seem to capture exactly what the recipient needs rather than wants.
The depth of his character reveals itself in small, everyday moments - the way he remembers to leave sugar water for hummingbirds, how he takes time to explain farming concepts to Sal, and his habit of humming softly while working in the fields. His connection to the land runs deeper than mere farming; it represents a philosophical approach to life itself, embracing both its cycles of growth and decay with equal grace.
Yet this unwavering goodness proved challenging for Sal's mother, who struggled with feeling inadequate in comparison. Her frustrated outbursts - "Sometimes I don't think you're human" and "I feel so rotten in comparison" - reveal the complexity of living alongside someone whose moral compass seems permanently fixed. His consistent decency created an unintentional standard she felt unable to meet, contributing significantly to her need to "clear her heart of all the bad things" away from her family.
When Sal attempts to warn her father about Mrs. Cadaver, describing her "slashing bushes" and "dead leaves" voice with childlike determination, his response demonstrates both wisdom and gentleness: "Sal, you're trying to catch fish in the air. Your mother is not coming back." This metaphor perfectly captures both Sal's futile attempts to create scenarios where her mother might return and her father's ability to speak difficult truths with compassion.
The relationship between Sal and her father evolves through several stages throughout the novel. Initially bound together yet emotionally distant in their shared grief, they gradually reconnect through small moments of understanding and shared silence. When Sal rejects a sweater from Margaret Cadaver, her father's response shows his emotional intelligence - respecting her feelings rather than forcing the relationship or dismissing her discomfort. Their relationship reaches a poignant turning point when they sit together on the porch steps, "two people being completely pitiful and lost" - a moment of authentic connection where their shared pain becomes a bridge rather than a barrier.
Through Sal's father, Creech masterfully explores how genuine goodness can persist through suffering without becoming sanctimonious or artificial. His character demonstrates how grief can simultaneously separate and unite family members, and how patient love can provide a steady anchor through emotional turbulence. His quiet strength lies not in grand gestures but in consistent presence, showing how true parental love can adapt to change while remaining fundamentally reliable.
第 7 章
Loss and Memory: Processing Grief Through Stories
At the heart of "Walk Two Moons" lies the experience of profound loss. Sal's journey to accept her mother's death parallels her physical journey west, with each mile bringing her closer to the truth she's been avoiding.
The novel explores various manifestations of grief: Sal's initial denial and anger, her father's quiet suffering, Gram and Gramps's determination to help Sal find closure, and even Mrs. Cadaver's transformation of her grief into caring for others. Through these different responses, Creech illustrates that there's no single "correct" way to mourn.
Memory plays a crucial role in Sal's grief process. Blackberries trigger recollections of picking berries with her mother and witnessing her parents exchange gifts-blackberries from her mother, wildflowers from her father. These sensory memories provide both comfort and pain, keeping her connection to her mother alive while reminding her of what she's lost.
When Mr. Birkway reads Longfellow's poem "The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls" in class, both Sal and Phoebe react strongly to its imagery of a traveler who never returns as the tide washes away footprints. "It isn't normal to die," Sal insists, revealing her struggle to accept death's inevitability.
The stillbirth of Sal's sister Tulip represents another layer of loss. This tragedy, which required her mother to undergo two operations and "lose all her equipment" for having more children, profoundly altered the family dynamic. The timing-occurring just after Sal broke her leg falling from a tree-suggests Sal might unconsciously connect her accident with her mother's loss, perhaps even blaming herself.
Through storytelling, Sal gradually processes her grief. By narrating Phoebe's story to her grandparents, she creates emotional distance that allows her to approach her own pain obliquely. This therapeutic storytelling ultimately enables her to accept that her mother isn't coming back-at least not in the way she had hoped.
第 8 章
Nature and Connection: Finding Healing in the Natural World
Throughout "Walk Two Moons," nature serves as both setting and metaphor, offering characters connection, comfort, and perspective. Sal's deep bond with the natural world reflects her rural upbringing in Bybanks, where she felt most at home among trees, rivers, and open spaces.
The "singing tree" in Bybanks-an aspen next to Sal's favorite sugar maple that produces beautiful birdsong though she can never spot the bird-becomes a powerful symbol of her mother's presence. After learning her mother won't return, Sal spends an entire day in the maple waiting for the singing tree's song, but it remains silent. Later, at the hospital after Gram's snake bite, Sal hears a similar birdsong that Gram calls "a good sign."
In the novel's climactic scene at Lewiston cemetery, Sal finally hears birdsong from a willow tree leaning toward the river. This moment marks her acceptance of her mother's death and transformation of her grief: "She isn't actually gone at all. She's singing in the trees." Nature provides not just comfort but continuity-a way to maintain connection with what's been lost.
The landscape of the journey west mirrors Sal's emotional terrain. The Badlands, with their jagged peaks and steep gorges, evoke the harsh reality of death, prompting Sal to recall the Blackfoot story about Napi determining that people must die. Yellowstone's Old Faithful represents life's persistence and beauty despite pain, with Gram's joyful reaction-"Oh, huzza, huzza!"-capturing the capacity for wonder even amid grief.
The novel also explores how disconnection from nature affects wellbeing. In Euclid, Sal hates the "treeless, cramped houses," while her father struggles being "sealed up in an office" away from earth, wood, and animals. This physical displacement parallels their emotional displacement after losing Sal's mother.
Through these natural connections, Creech suggests that healing often comes not from forgetting or moving on, but from finding new ways to integrate loss into our understanding of life's cycles.
第 9 章
Walking in Another's Moccasins: The Power of Empathy
The novel's title and epigraph-"Don't judge a man until you've walked two moons in his moccasins"-establish empathy as its central theme. This Native American proverb appears first as a mysterious message on Phoebe's doorstep, then reverberates throughout the narrative as characters struggle to understand each other's choices.
Initially, Sal judges Margaret Cadaver harshly, seeing only her "slashing bushes" and "dead leaves" voice. She resents her father's relationship with Margaret, refusing to hear anything about it. Only after learning Margaret's story-losing her husband in the bus crash that also blinded her mother and claimed Sal's mother's life-does Sal develop empathy for her. That night, Sal imagines "Mrs. Cadaver's experience of losing her husband," feeling "deep empathy for her grief."
Similarly, Phoebe initially cannot comprehend why her mother would leave voluntarily. Her dramatic imagination constructs scenarios of kidnapping or murder rather than considering her mother's need for self-discovery. When Mrs. Winterbottom returns with Mike-the son she gave up for adoption before meeting Mr. Winterbottom-Phoebe must confront the complexity of her mother's identity beyond her role as wife and mother.
The physical journey west becomes Sal's opportunity to literally "walk in her mother's moccasins" by retracing her final trip. This parallel journey helps Sal understand her mother's choices without necessarily agreeing with them. As Sal later realizes, the entire trip was Gram and Gramps's gift to her-a chance to see what her mother saw and perhaps glimpse why she felt compelled to leave.
In the novel's conclusion, Sal and Gramps play the "moccasin game," imagining themselves in others' shoes. This practice brings new perspectives, allowing Sal to process her grief without bitterness. Through this theme, Creech suggests that empathy doesn't require agreeing with others' choices-only attempting to understand the experiences that shaped them.
第 10 章
Finding Peace: Acceptance and Moving Forward
The novel concludes not with perfect resolution but with acceptance. Sal reaches Lewiston cemetery and finally sees her mother's grave with its maple tree engraving. Only then does she fully accept that her mother isn't coming back. Yet this acceptance transforms rather than diminishes her connection: "She isn't actually gone at all. She's singing in the trees."
This metaphorical presence-her mother living on through nature and memory-allows Sal to move forward without abandoning her love. She finds comfort in remembering her mother through stories and places they visited together. The journey itself becomes a form of healing, allowing Sal to process her grief by literally following in her mother's footsteps.
Back in Bybanks, Sal, her father, and Gramps create a new family configuration. Gram is buried in the aspen grove where she and Gramps were married, completing a life cycle. Though still grieving, they find ways to honor her memory while continuing to live.
Sal's relationship with Phoebe evolves as well. Though still "jealous that Phoebe's mother returned while hers didn't," Sal maintains their friendship, planning visits that will include Ben, Mrs. Cadaver, and Mrs. Partridge-creating a new extended family from the fragments of loss.
The novel's final image-Gramps with his beagle named Huzza Huzza, and Sal with "a chicken and a singing tree"-captures how we incorporate loss into our ongoing lives. The phrase "and that's the way it is. Huzza, huzza" suggests acceptance without resignation, celebration of life's continuity despite its inevitable sorrows.
Through Salamanca Tree Hiddle's journey, Sharon Creech offers profound wisdom about grief: that it never truly ends but transforms; that understanding others' pain helps us process our own; and that sometimes the most healing response to loss is simply to acknowledge "that's the way it is" while still finding moments to exclaim "huzza, huzza" at life's persistent beauty.
