Denial vs. Acceptance in I Think We've Been Here Before
The Thematic Claim
In I Think We've Been Here Before, Suzy Krause presents denial and acceptance not as polar opposites but as intertwined responses to the same unbearable truth: the world is ending, and with it every assumption about how a life should proceed. The novel argues that acceptance is rarely a single, clean moment of surrender. Instead, it is a messy, often contradictory process in which characters cycle between frantic avoidance and reluctant acknowledgment, sometimes within the same scene. The most profound form of acceptance, Krause suggests, is not resignation but a conscious choice to continue loving and creating because the end is near.
Three Movements of Denial and Acceptance
1. The Opening Acts of Denial (Chapters 1–14)
The novel introduces denial through multiple characters immediately after the apocalyptic Letter arrives. Hilda gathers her family at Thanksgiving to announce Marlen's cancer diagnosis but cannot bring herself to say "malignant," while Marlen deflects with dark jokes about funeral music. Their daughter Nora, miles away in Berlin, similarly rationalizes her overwhelming connection to Jacob as jet lag or coincidence. These early denials are instinctive—self-protective reactions that allow the characters to continue functioning. Irene, meanwhile, buries herself in domestic routines: baking, cleaning, crafting. Her husband Hank, by contrast, embodies a blunt, often angry realism; he wants everyone to face the truth, but his refusal to participate in Irene's small rituals is itself a kind of denial—the denial that comfort matters.
2. The Middle Ground: Denial as Coping (Chapters 15–54)
As the apocalypse looms nearer, denial takes more elaborate forms. Ole cleans his bedroom obsessively, planning to mess it up and start over if his parents' fighting continues—a desperate attempt to impose order on chaos. Iver retreats into a fantasy world so completely that he fails to report his grandson Ole is safe, revealing that denial can be a form of selfishness. Nora, unable to call Jacob because her phone service has died, invents an imaginary version of her friend Petra who argues from the ceiling about the illusion of reality; this internal debate dramatizes Nora's own struggle between avoidance and investigation. The evidence of a mysterious mural that resembles Nora's mother, combined with a simultaneous text, pushes Nora closer to acknowledging that something deeper is happening—yet she still backs away from fully confronting it.
Irene's husband Hank represents the voice that demands acceptance, but his anger often shuts down communication, as when he shouts at Ole to sit down and eat. The chapter in which Hank rages against the washing machine shows that even "acceptance" can be a form of denial if it refuses to allow space for grief or delay.
3. The Shift Toward Acceptance (Chapters 55–73)
The final movement traces a gradual, incomplete shift toward acceptance. Irene is the clearest example: in Chapter 68, she breaks down reading the Letter while the sky turns golden, finally letting go of her frantic busyness. But her response is not passive; she immediately decides to decorate the basement for Christmas, creating a final celebration that honors life in the face of death. This act—both acceptance of the end and denial of it as meaningless—represents the novel's ideal: a will to make meaning even when time has run out.
Marlen's novel, unveiled at the Christmas gathering, offers a philosophical framework for acceptance built on the idea of infinite nesting lifetimes. The characters, especially Hilda, find comfort in the possibility that death is both real and perpetually re-lived, allowing small changes until "something perfect" emerges. This is not traditional acceptance of finality; it is an acceptance of a cosmic process that includes both endings and beginnings. Ole's observation that the novel describes their current situation, written a year earlier, reinforces the cyclical déjà vu that has haunted the entire story—now recast not as a symptom of trauma but as evidence of a deeper pattern.
Symbol Connections
Several symbols crystallize the tension between denial and acceptance:
- The Letter — The apocalyptic announcement triggers every character's initial denial. It is the object everyone wants to ignore, yet Irene keeps it on her fridge, a symbol of her eventual reckoning.
- Murals and Paintings — The larger-than-life mural of Nora's mother appears suddenly, inviting Nora to accept the inexplicable. It resists easy explanation, forcing her to either dismiss it (denial) or entertain the possibility of a reality larger than her own (acceptance).
- The Locket and Necklace — Representing memory and connection across time, these objects link past and present. For Nora and Jacob, the locket embodies an acceptance that some bonds exist beyond linear cause and effect.
- Irene's Domestic Crafts — The very symbol of denial—keeping busy to avoid feeling—becomes, in the basement decorating scene, the medium of acceptance. She does not stop creating; she redirects her creativity toward celebration.
Complexity and Contradiction
The novel refuses to condemn denial outright. Hilda's frantic caregiving, Ole's obsessive cleaning, and even Hank's rage are all shown to be understandable, even necessary, stages. Acceptance, too, is complicated: Mrs. Schmidt (Nora's imaginary self) admits that pretending to have it all figured out is "lying to each other, to themselves." Acceptance in this novel is rarely peaceful; it comes with tears, shouting, and the awkwardness of watching someone vomit from existential dread.
Most importantly, acceptance does not mean inaction. Irene's decision to decorate for Christmas is both a denial of the end (by pretending it is still a holiday) and an acceptance of it (by creating a final shared moment). The book's climax, in which the group huddles together as the world goes dark, suggests that the ultimate acceptance may be simply staying together, holding hands, and choosing to say "I love you" into the howling wind.
Study Questions and Answers
1. How does Irene's character arc from denial to acceptance challenge the idea that acceptance is a single moment of clarity?
Irene's arc shows a messy oscillation: she spends most of the novel doing crafts and avoiding confrontation, then has a dramatic breakdown reading the Letter—but immediately follows it by decorating the basement. Her acceptance is not a quiet resignation but an energetic, creative embrace of the end that still clings to small joys.
2. In what ways does Hank's "realism" function as a form of denial?
Hank insists on facing the apocalypse head-on, but his anger and refusal to engage in Irene's small rituals reveal a denial of the value of comfort and hope. His shouting at Ole and his storming to the basement are emotional escapes dressed up as acceptance; they actually prevent the family from connecting.
3. Why does Nora resist exploring her déjà vu connection to Jacob, and how does this relate to the theme?
Nora resists because fully acknowledging the connection would require her to accept that her controlled, rational worldview is incomplete. She prefers to label the feeling as jet lag or coincidence—a denial that protects her but also isolates her. The novel suggests that some forms of acceptance require embracing mystery.
4. How does Marlen's novel about infinite lifetimes change the way the family understands acceptance of death?
Marlen's idea that dying is a nested, repetitive process reframes death from a single finality to an ongoing opportunity for revision. The family accepts not the end of existence but the possibility of endlessly starting again, better. This philosophical acceptance allows them to sit together without panic, even as the world ends.
5. What role does the symbol of Irene's Christmas decorations play in the climax?
The decorations represent a deliberate choosing of meaning over futility. They are a literal denial of the season's incongruity (it is December 24 by the family's agreement, though the outside suggests otherwise) and an acceptance that ritual and celebration matter, especially at the end. They transform the basement from a survival shelter into a space of love and memory.