Grief and Healing in Aristotle and Dante Dive into the Waters of the World
Thematic Claim: Grief as a Transformative Journey toward Connection
In Aristotle and Dante Dive into the Waters of the World, Benjamin Alire Sáenz presents grief not as an emotion to overcome but as a force that reshapes identity and deepens relationships. For Aristotle “Ari” Mendoza, loss arrives in multiple forms—his father’s sudden death, his brother Jaime’s imprisonment, and the fear of losing his new love, Dante. Healing, the novel argues, is not about forgetting or moving on; it is about learning to carry grief alongside love, allowing community, memory, and self-acceptance to transform sorrow into a reason to live fully.
The Many Faces of Grief
1. The Death of Jaime Mendoza (Ari’s Father)
Ari’s father dies unexpectedly in his arms (Chapter Thirty-One). Ari witnesses the life leave his father’s eyes, and the trauma immediately overwhelms him. In Chapter Thirty-Two, a medical intern named Jaime (the same name as Ari’s father) tells Ari that energy never disappears: “Your father may not exist as a man anymore, but he didn’t die, Ari.” This early perspective plants a seed—grief is not an end but a transformation. Yet Ari’s initial response is numbness. At school he feels “far away. A little empty. A little numb” ([Chapter Two, after father’s death]). His mother finds him paralyzed in bed, sobbing after hearing her own cries ([Chapter Three]).
2. The Weight of a Brother’s Imprisonment
Ari’s older brother, also named Jaime, has been in prison for years. Ari rarely speaks of him, but the absence haunts him. In Chapter Thirty-One, just before his father’s death, Ari reflects that his brother is “gone from my thoughts” and that he “would never again suffer from the pain of having loved him as a boy.” This unresolved grief—the loss of a brother who was “nice” but then “very mean” (as the intern Jaime recalls)—compounds Ari’s sorrow. The novel shows that grief is not only about death; it is also about the loss of a relationship that never healed.
3. Collective and Existential Grief
Ari’s grief expands beyond personal loss. At his father’s wake, he thinks of the AIDS pandemic: “Who would sing their names?” (Chapter Thirty-Three). He imagines deaths around the world—a Syrian explosion, a car accident, a Nazi dying in Bogotá. This global awareness intensifies his sorrow but also connects him to a larger human experience. Grief, the novel suggests, is both intimately personal and universally shared.
Healing through Love and Community
1. Dante as the Eraser of Loneliness
From the opening chapter, Ari lies still with Dante’s head on his chest, feeling “more alive than ever” (Chapter One). After his father dies, Dante appears at his bedside like “some kind of angel” and says, “If I could bring him back for you, I would. If I could be anybody right now, I’d be Jesus Christ and bring him back to life” ([Chapter Thirty-Two]). This selfless love does not erase grief, but it allows Ari to feel seen in his pain. Dante’s presence becomes a steady anchor as Ari navigates the months after the funeral.
2. The Fellowship Sacrifice and the Decision to Let Go
When Dante is accepted to the Paris School of Fine Arts, he initially wants to turn it down to stay with Ari (Chapter Thirty-Nine). Ari insists he must go: “I want you to go because I love you.” This painful act of letting go is a form of healing. Ari chooses love over possession, recognising that true connection does not require proximity. It is a grief of a different kind—the grief of temporary separation—but one that strengthens his capacity to trust.
3. The Epigraph’s Promise
The book’s epigraph declares that love “takes us from exile to a country called belonging.” This promise is fulfilled when Ari finally travels to Paris in Chapter Forty-Eight and Forty-Nine. He leaves behind his old, fearful self and steps into a world where he can speak to a grieving stranger at an ACT UP protest, telling him, “Your love is brave.” In doing so, Ari becomes a source of healing for others, a sign that his own wound has begun to close.
Symbolic Connections: Water, Desert, and the Raft
Water as Renewal
Water appears throughout the novel as a symbol of emotional cleansing and rebirth. Ari and Dante swim every day after school ends (Chapter Thirty-Nine). Ari tries to “memorize every move [Dante] made” as Dante teaches him to dive. The act of submerging in water parallels the willingness to let grief wash over him without drowning. In the epigraph, the ocean is one of the forces of love, suggesting that love and sorrow are both vast and can coexist.
The Desert and Isolation
The desert, a key symbol from the first book, represents the solitude Ari once inhabited. In Chapter Twenty, he writes in his journal about kissing Dante in the desert: “It was like someone lit me like a firecracker.” The desert, once a place of emptiness, becomes a space for transformative intimacy. Healing does not mean leaving the desert behind; it means reimagining it as a place where love can appear.
The Raft of the Medusa – Community of the Broken
In the final chapter, Ari stands before Géricault’s painting at the Louvre (Chapter Fifty). He reinterprets it as a symbol of “my community’s struggle to survive and create a new America.” He envisions himself, Dante, their families, and the dead on the raft, all “determined to reach a shore free of exile.” This image crystallises the theme: grief is the raft; community is the ocean that carries it. Healing is not a solo voyage but a collective one.
Complexity and Contradiction
Grief in this novel is not a straight line. After his father’s death, Ari experiences periods of “malaise” where he feels “lethargic” (Chapter Forty-Four). He shuts down emotionally, unable to remember conversations with his mother. When his mother wins Teacher of the Year, Ari breaks down in the school parking lot, leaning into Cassandra’s shoulder and weeping: “Why does every season have to hurt?” (Chapter Twenty-Five). Joy and sorrow coexist—the happiness of his mother’s achievement triggers grief because his father is not there to share it.
Ari’s mother, Liliana, also models a complex healing. She tells Ari, “You can drown in your own bitter tears or you can look up at the sky” (Chapter Ten). Her words are both compassionate and firm, acknowledging that grief can consume you if you let it. Healing requires active choice—to keep living, to look up, to let others help.
Even the epigraph’s idealistic claim about love is tested. Ari wonders, “When will we all get to be human, Dante?” ([Chapter Twenty]). The novel does not offer easy answers. Grief remains; it is the water that shapes the shore of Ari’s new identity. But by the end, Ari wears his father’s watch and feels “his presence” ([Chapter Fifty]). The dead are not forgotten; they are cartographed into the future.
Study Questions and Answers
-
Question: How does Ari’s reaction to his father’s death change over the course of the novel? Provide two specific stages from the evidence.
Answer: Initially, Ari is numb and paralyzed, crying himself to sleep and feeling “far away” at school ([Chapter Three, after death]). Later, he moves into a more reflective grief, writing in his journal and eventually finding solace in Paris where he can speak to a stranger about love and loss ([Chapter Forty-Nine]). -
Question: What role does Dante play in Ari’s healing process? Cite one dialogue exchange that shows this.
Answer: Dante becomes a steady emotional anchor. After Ari’s father dies, Dante says, “If I could be anybody right now, I’d be Jesus Christ and bring him back to life” ([Chapter Thirty-Two]). This selfless offer helps Ari feel that his pain is shared. -
Question: How does the symbol of water relate to the theme of healing in the novel?
Answer: Water represents renewal and the ability to let grief flow through rather than against. Ari and Dante’s daily swims create a ritual of presence, and the epigraph aligns the ocean with love. Water teaches Ari to dive into emotion instead of resisting it (see Water Symbol). -
Question: In what way does Ari’s brother, Jaime, contribute to the theme of grief, even though he is absent for most of the novel?
Answer: The unresolved grief over his brother’s imprisonment—and the loss of the boy he once loved—compounds Ari’s sorrow. In [Chapter Thirty-One], Ari states his brother is “gone from my thoughts,” suggesting he has tried to bury that pain. The novel implies that healing must eventually include making peace with familial wounds, not only with death. -
Question: What does Ari mean when, at the Louvre, he says they are “cartographers mapping a future without hate”? How does this statement relate to his healing?
Answer: Ari transforms his personal grief into a collective vision. By calling himself and Dante cartographers, he declares that they will intentionally create a world where love is not policed. Healing, for Ari, becomes an active, outward-facing project—one that honours his father’s memory, his mother’s strength, and the community that held him (see Cartography Symbol).