The Past Always Resurfaces: Outrunning History in Same As It Ever Was
Introduction: The Past as a Living Force
In Same As It Ever Was, Claire Lombardo constructs a narrative where time is not a straight line but a series of loops and echoes. The novel's central thematic claim is that the past is never truly behind us; it resurfaces through chance encounters, sensory triggers, and the quiet persistence of memory, making it impossible to outrun one's history. Julia Ames, the protagonist, spends decades trying to build a stable, orderly life in the suburbs, yet her carefully constructed present is repeatedly invaded by the people and events she has tried to bury. The title itself—a phrase that suggests both resignation and continuity—captures the novel's insistence that the past is not a closed chapter but a recurring refrain. Through Julia's relationships with her husband Mark, her children, and the enigmatic Helen Russo, Lombardo explores how suppression is not escape, and how the past's return is both a threat and an opportunity for reckoning.
The Grocery Store Encounter: A Collision of Time
The novel opens with a seemingly trivial decision: Julia, shopping for last-minute items for Mark's sixtieth birthday, chooses a gourmet grocery store two towns away because her usual store is out of crabmeat. This "benign change to her routine" becomes the catalyst for a seismic disruption. In the produce aisle, she spots an elderly woman she initially fails to recognize—Helen Russo, whom she has not seen in eighteen years and had hoped never to encounter again. The narrative immediately collapses the distance between past and present: Julia's brain compresses all her critical moments with Helen into a single minute, and she feels dizzy, as if the intervening decades have evaporated. This encounter is not merely a social awkwardness; it is a violent resurfacing of a history Julia has worked to suppress. The grocery store, a symbol of domestic routine and control, becomes the stage for the past's intrusion. The crabmeat, the cabbage she impulsively tosses into her basket, and the "anniversarial cabbage" Helen jokes about all become markers of a timeline Julia cannot escape. The scene establishes the novel's central tension: no matter how far Julia drives, how carefully she curates her life, the past will find her.
The Unfinished Business of Marriage
The resurfacing of the past is not limited to external encounters; it also lives within Julia's most intimate relationship. In a later chapter, a conversation with Mark reveals that their marriage has been haunted by the affair Julia had with Nathaniel, Helen's son, decades earlier. Mark's voice is "stony" as he says, "I don't deserve this," and Julia realizes that despite all the years of affection, shared routines, and the birth of their children, her husband is "not over what she did to him." The narrative observes that they have been "talking about it for twenty years, for twenty-five, forever," suggesting that the past is not a discrete event but a continuous undercurrent in their marriage. This scene complicates the idea that time heals all wounds. Instead, the past persists as a fragile, unresolved thread that can be pulled at any moment. Julia's promise to Mark—that she would never again go to Helen's house—becomes a symbol of her attempt to outrun her history, but the promise itself is a reminder of what she cannot erase. The marriage, built on a foundation of unspoken agreements and willful blindness, is itself a monument to the past's inescapability.
The Past in Physical Spaces
Lombardo demonstrates that the past is not only carried in memory but also embedded in physical spaces and objects. In a pivotal scene, Julia drives to Helen's house to deliver a bouquet of poppy anemones, breaking her long-standing promise to Mark. The house on Superior Street is nearly unchanged: the smell of buttered toast and wood varnish, the cluttered mail table, the stained glass on the front door. Julia is overwhelmed by "sensory recognition," a transportive experience that makes her feel as though she has stepped back in time. She searches for any trace of herself—a faded Post-it, a Christmas card—but finds only the detritus of other lives. This moment underscores the novel's theme: the past is not something we leave behind; it is something we carry with us, and it can be triggered by the most mundane details. The house itself becomes a character, a repository of history that Julia cannot enter without confronting her own. Similarly, the botanic garden where she first met Helen, and the succulents room where Helen "plucked her out of the crowd," serve as recurring sites of origin. These spaces are not neutral; they are saturated with meaning, and their return in the narrative forces Julia to acknowledge that her history is woven into the very fabric of her world.
The Long Aftermath: Memory and Loss
The novel's final chapters extend the theme into the realm of loss and aging. After Mark's unexpected death from an aortic aneurysm, Julia's memories of him become both a comfort and a torment. The narrative lists the moments she will remember—the lakefront walks, the first steps of their grandson, the way he zipped her dress—and these memories resurface with a vividness that makes others uncomfortable. The past is no longer something she can suppress; it is all she has. Helen's death also forces Julia to reckon with the complexity of their relationship. At Helen's funeral, Julia reflects that Helen was "ultimately responsible for far more good things in Julia's life than she is for the one big bad thing that she happened to be there for." This acknowledgment complicates the simple binary of past as trauma. The past is not only a source of pain; it is also the source of the life Julia has built. As Julia's own memory begins to falter, the novel suggests that the past's resurfacing is not always a choice—it can be an involuntary, even biological, process. The final image of Mark and Julia walking to the lakefront with their first grandson, where Mark says "they did it," offers a bittersweet resolution: they have built a life, but that life is inseparable from the history they tried to outrun.
Symbols of Return
Lombardo uses recurring symbols to reinforce the theme of the past's inescapability. Music is perhaps the most potent. Julia listens to her daughter Alma's playlist, which includes classic rock and contemporary bands, and the music triggers memories of driving Ben to preschool, of her own youth, and of the affair. When she cranks "Smells Like Teen Spirit" in the car after the grocery store encounter, she is not just seeking distraction; she is actively summoning the past, using sound as a time machine. Food and cooking also serve as markers of time. The crabmeat for Mark's birthday, the cabbage Julia buys on impulse, and the elaborate meals she prepares are acts of domesticity that both anchor her in the present and remind her of the past's intrusions. The "anniversarial cabbage" is a joke, but it also signifies the way the past attaches itself to the most ordinary objects. Gardens and plants appear throughout the novel, from the botanic garden where Julia met Helen to the crocuses Helen points out, to Julia's own garden in her later years. Gardens represent growth, decay, and cyclical renewal—a perfect metaphor for the past's tendency to bloom again. Finally, knitting and scarves are linked to Mark's birthday gift of silk scarves, which Julia uses to tie herself up during sex. The scarves are both a gesture of intimacy and a symbol of entanglement; they bind Julia to Mark even as they evoke the past's hold on her. These symbols are not decorative; they are the novel's way of showing that the past is woven into the very texture of daily life.
Complexity and Contradiction
The novel resists a simple moral about the past. On one hand, the past is destructive: it nearly ruins Julia's marriage, it causes her to break promises, and it haunts her into old age. On the other hand, the past is generative. Helen, who was the catalyst for the affair, also provided Julia with friendship, guidance, and a sense of belonging. The affair itself, while a betrayal, was born from Julia's desperation and loneliness, and it ultimately led her to a deeper understanding of herself. The novel also suggests that the impossibility of outrunning one's history does not mean one is condemned to repeat it. Julia and Mark, despite their unresolved wounds, manage to build a life together. Mark's final "they did it" is not a denial of the past but an acceptance of it—a recognition that they have lived through it and emerged on the other side. The contradiction lies in the fact that the past is both a burden and a foundation. Julia cannot escape it, but she can learn to live with it, to integrate it into her sense of self. The novel's title, Same As It Ever Was, captures this paradox: things change, yet they remain the same. The past is not a foreign country; it is the very ground we stand on.
Study Questions and Answers
1. How does the grocery store encounter in Chapter 1 illustrate the theme of the past's resurfacing? The encounter shows that a seemingly trivial decision—choosing a different store—can lead to a collision with the past. Julia's brain compresses years of memories into a single moment, and the physical setting of the grocery store becomes a stage for the past's intrusion. The encounter disrupts her carefully constructed present and forces her to confront Helen, whom she had hoped never to see again.
2. In what ways does Mark's reaction to the affair reveal that the past is not over? Mark's stony voice and his assertion that he "doesn't deserve this" demonstrate that the affair remains an open wound. The narrative notes that they have been "talking about it for twenty years," suggesting that the past is a continuous presence in their marriage. Mark's inability to move past the betrayal shows that time does not automatically heal all wounds.
3. How do physical spaces like Helen's house function as repositories of the past? Helen's house is described with sensory details—the smell of buttered toast, the gummy surface of the breakfast table—that transport Julia back in time. The house is unchanged, and Julia searches for traces of herself, but finds only the detritus of other lives. This shows that spaces can hold history and trigger involuntary memories, making it impossible to outrun the past.
4. What role do symbols like music and food play in the novel's exploration of the past? Music and food act as triggers for memory. Julia's playlist evokes her youth and her relationship with Ben, while the crabmeat and cabbage in the grocery store become markers of the past's intrusion. These symbols demonstrate that the past is embedded in everyday objects and experiences, and that it can resurface at any moment.
5. How does the novel complicate the idea that the past is purely negative? The novel shows that the past is both destructive and generative. Helen is responsible for both the affair and for many good things in Julia's life. The final scene, where Mark says "they did it," suggests that the past can be integrated into a meaningful life. The past is not something to be escaped but something to be lived with, and the novel's title captures this ambiguity.