Pressia Belze

Character Analysis

Whether you pronounce it as "Presh-ah" or "Press-e-ah," Pressia Belze is your heroine and main-main protagonist in Pure. Now, we say "main-main" because one could make the argument that Partridge could be a co-main character. But does Partridge have a dang doll for a hand? Was Partridge fused to something? Nope. Sorry, Partridge: step aside and let Pressia do all of the dirty work.

Stage One: Caterpillar (Pressia The Child)

Much like a butterfly, Pressia goes through stages of maturity throughout the novel, and her caterpillar stage often rears its head. Let's not forget that Pressia is just barely sixteen years old (and, um, has a doll fused to her hand): we can't ignore that her childish tendencies are a crucial aspect of her characterization.

Having some kiddo-esque tendencies isn't normally a problem for your average high school sophomore, but it is in the nightmarescape that is Pure. The issue with Pressia is that, though she is strong-willed and mostly mature for her age, she isn't able to completely conquer her natural tendency to act like a child. Take for example the toys that she makes:

She walks to the ledge under the splintered window where there's a row of small creatures she's made from pieces of metal, old coins, buttons, hinges, gears she collects—little windup toys— chicks that hop, caterpillars that scoot, a turtle with a small snapping beak. Her favorite is the butterfly. (1.20)

It's pretty important that she chooses a butterfly as her favorite animal. When it really comes down to it, Pressia is just a typical girly girl. She likes butterflies, she likes making trinkets, and she likes gifts. She might have a doll fused to her hand and scars all over her face, but she's just like millions of other American sixteen-year-old ladies.

And just like other girls, she has imperfections. For example, when she escapes people hunting for her, she stumbles upon an anti-government organization. And instead of remaining incognito, she just blurts out her real name.

"Pressia," she says and then immediately regrets it. She wishes she'd used a fake name. She doesn't know who these people are. This is a mistake. She knows it now, clearly. (5.11)

Sometimes she isn't exactly the brightest bulb… but she hasn't actually been out in the mean streets of the real world that much. But sometimes her immaturity (or at least her lack of knowledge) can negatively affect how we look at her as a character. Twice Pressia asks people to play "I Remember," a childhood game. She asks Partridge the first time, and even lies about her own memories (17.22). Bad Pressia.

The second time she asks Bradwell, and though this is a romantic and cute scene, we still see glimpses of Pressia's childish self shining through (41.9). We're not saying that her childish side is a wholly negative aspect, but it tends to cause a bit of trouble.

But what's most immature thing Pressia does in the novel? Let's take a look:

Once, when she was twelve, she tried to cut her doll head off. She thought she could free herself from it. (17.101)

When we're young, how do we deal with things? We scream, we fight, we try to get rid of anything we don't like, etc. So that's what Pressia did; instead of accepting the doll, she ignored logic and tried to cut it off. Plus, "she always covers it when she goes out" (1.31).

Again: we can see the problem with having a doll's head fused to your hand. From a purely practical standpoint, it must get annoying. But by attempting to cut her doll's head off, Pressia tried to take away a part of herself. Only later does she realize that her scars (and her fusing) are what makes her Pressia.

Stage Two: Cocoon (Pressia The Young Adult)

Okay, so Pressia can act like a little girl sometimes, but for the most part she transcends her sixteen-year-old self. Even in the beginning of the novel, Pressia scavenges for materials… which makes her toy building seem a lot less childish. But as the novel progresses, she begins to evolve. As she is battered by hardships upon hardships, we can start to see her maturity developing:

She thinks of the smiley face she drew in the ash of the cabinet door. It's childish. Stupid. A lie. (50.21)

Now, there's a reason why this statement isn't indicative of her full development; the smiley face she drew on her cabinet door, though a bit childish, is not "stupid" or a "lie." What Pressia still doesn't understand is that the smiley face was a symbol of her hope, not her immaturity.

There is a moment, however, where Pressia seems so mature that we can't help but sit in awe. Question: what would you do if you found out that people (that want to kill you) were watching you? You'd flip out, right?

Now, what if you found out that you had a bomb inside your head, and that the people who were watching you could flip the switch at any moment? Think about that for a second. And while you do, take a look at how Pressia reacts when she finds out she is stuck in this very predicament.

Everyone looks at Pressia. For a moment, Partridge wonders if she's going to start crying. He wouldn't blame her. Instead, she gazes solemnly back at them, her eyes steady, as if she accepts it. (53.39)

So, what do we think of Pressia now? Yep, she's still sixteen, and she still likes toys, but sometimes she almost seems like a jaded war veteran.

Stage Three: Butterfly (Pressia The Heroine)

It's no coincidence that Pressia's favorite wind-up toy is the butterfly. By the novel's end, Pressia too is a butterfly; her beauty shines, her courage blooms, and her true characteristics of a heroine are palpable.

It's not that she doesn't have flaws. She does; she's not perfect. But one way in which she becomes an extremely powerful heroine is that she looks at her dismal world in ways that others can't. She says about Bradwell's face:

Beauty, you can find it here if you look hard enough. (48.3)

And concerning her mother, whose body is ravaged:

It's hard to explain but her limbs seem beautiful to Pressia. Maybe it's Bradwell's view that there's beauty in scars and fusings because they are signs of their survival, which is a beautiful thing, if you think about it. (52.20)

Pressia is what the world outside of the Dome needs; they need a hero who can look past the ashes and the rubble that's left over from the Detonations. They don't exactly need a Batman or a Wonder Woman—they need someone who still has hope. They need someone who creates hope. Even Bradwell, the cynic of the group who preaches "Shadow History," thinks:

What if they can fight the Dome and win? Could he have a life with her? Not a convertible or a dog or a nursery with wallpaper boats. But something beyond his. (59.109)

In the same way that a butterfly can elicit the beauty of the world by simply fluttering past you, Pressia can bring beauty to the world outside the Dome.

Plus, she has a superhero's arsenal of sass. Check out what Pressia says to Ingership when he tells them to wait in the parlor:

"No, thanks," Pressia says. She thinks of the back room of the barbershop, the cabinet that she once hid in. No more hiding. She thinks of the smiley face she drew in ash. Gone now, ash layered upon ash. She's not going back to hiding or being hidden… (59.17, 59.19).

Take that, Ingership. Not only does Pressia stand her ground, but she's able to instill courage in Lyda. Move over Katniss Everdeen and Arya Stark, we have a new heroine in town.