Symbolism, Imagery, Allegory
Have you read the analysis of Chris Creed over in the "Characters" section yet? We suggest you do, just to get acquainted with the dude from our book's title, so hop on over there, then come right back. Oh—and while you're at it, you might as well read up on Torey and Ali, too. We promise it will help when it comes to understanding this symbol, and we're more than happy to wait for you.
Okay, you ready? Now that we're all on the same page about who Chris is, let's sort through what he represents in this book. After all, on a plot level, this book isn't nearly so much about Chris himself as it is about where the heck his body is, and in this way, Chris is more an object or figure than a character in the story.
If you've read the write-ups about Torey and Ali over in the "Characters" section as well, then you know that they are each apostle-esque characters in their own right, doing their part to spread the good word that outcasts are people, too. And while Ali comes to this understanding pretty much through her own lived experience, for Torey, it is very much tied to the disappearance of Chris.
Pop quiz: Whose body disappears in the Bible?
Answer: Jesus's body, that's whose.
And you know what this means, right? It means that Chris is a stand-in for Jesus. And while Jesus is kind of known for championing the weak and the disenfranchised, whereas Chris is an example of the weak and disenfranchised, the message they send—that the marginalized matter—is the same. And for both Jesus and Chris, their apostles dutifully spread this good word.
Not convinced? Consider this: Chris means "bearer of Christ," which is basically a fancy way of saying "someone who carries Jesus." Yup, Chris represents—or, if you'd prefer, carries the symbol of—Jesus in this book. Add this to the fact that he disappears only to emerge reborn as Victor Adams, and we're definitely in Jesus territory since dying and coming back anew is considered one of the late J.C.'s cooler tricks.
Let's talk about Chris's last name before we leave him in peace, though, shall we? His last name is Creed, which also happens to be a word that refers to a system of belief. Insofar as religions are belief systems, then, right off the bat we're invited to think of religion when we think of Chris.
When we dig a little deeper, however, we notice that Chris is driven away by the creeds that dominate his life. At home he is governed by his intensely strict and invasive mother's practices, and at school he is unable to escape the nastiness integral to the system of social hierarchy. Chris is smothered by Creeds—even, you might say, metaphorically killed by them—until the only way he can identify to survive is to essentially end life as Chris in hopes of starting anew as Victor.
So Chris isn't just a symbol for Christ; he is also a cautionary tale about the power of belief systems. As much as they can be used to spread messages of kindness and acceptance, so, too, can they be used to oppress and stifle people. Instead of a story of redemption, then, Chris Creed plays a pivotal role in making this book more of a meditation on the perks and pitfalls of belief systems, and serves up a steadfast reminder as the novel unfolds that it's dangerous to follow along blindly.