The novel opens with a cold, uneasy mood. From the start, Snow Falling On Cedars’s setting shapes its emotional landscape. The island’s ever-present fog and snow create a sense of stillness that feels heavy. The background of scenes isn’t just quiet—it seems to be muffled by the oppressively falling snow. This quiet does not soothe. Instead, it presses in on the reader and Guterson’s characters, making the atmosphere feel claustrophobic. The island feels closed off from the rest of the world both literally and metaphorically.
The mood is more variable in scenes that are set in the past. When the story focuses on memory the novel has far more motion and life. The tone does not exactly become cheerful, but the past feels much brighter compared to the grim present. In the past, characters seem more open and allow more emotions to show. However, this shift makes the present feel even more dim that it would have otherwise.
There’s also a pervasive sense of tension and anxiety throughout the book. Its trial scenes stretch the building tension slowly over many chapters. At first, the courtroom seems quiet, and the outcome of the trial almost inevitably condemns Kabuo. However, the more people’s testimonies unfold, the more the pressure of uncertainty builds. The reader starts to feel boxed in, much like the people trapped in the courtroom and forced to decide without knowing all the facts.
Later chapters push the reader even further into unease. The mood becomes overtly confused and anxious as each character’s actions leave room for doubt. By this point, Guterson no longer offers a safe moral center for his readers. They are just as unsure as the jury and judge. Even after the trial finishes and Kabuo is exonerated, the ending does not offer the reader any relief. Despite the resolution of the criminal case, Guterson never lets the reader feel fully at peace.