Telling the story in retrospect as an adult, Theo uses foreshadowing to prepare the reader for the terrorist attack and explosion that kills his mother:
People on the street and in the park were holding newspapers and briefcases over their heads, scurrying up the stairs to the portico of the museum, which was the only place on the street to get out of the rain. And there was something festive and happy about the two of us, hurrying up the steps beneath the flimsy candy-striped umbrella, quick quick quick, for all the world as if we were escaping something terrible instead of running right into it.
When it starts to pour, Theo and Audrey take shelter under the museum portico with other workers and commuters. What seems like a quick detour quickly becomes Theo’s worst nightmare. For a moment, their short time at the museum is a blessing, an escape from the rain and a moment of peace before Theo’s dreaded school meeting. However, Theo’s revelation that they were not “escaping something terrible” but instead “running right into it” puts the reader on edge. As the omniscient narrator, Theo knows precisely what is going to happen in the museum, so this quip serves not only as a method of foreshadowing but also as dramatic irony. On top of these layers is one of situational irony, wherein Theo and his mother seek protection from the rain, only to find more danger than they could ever imagine.
This retrospective foreshadowing also illustrates Theo’s perspective on his past: he views this random tragedy not as a mere plot point in his life but as a formative event from which everything else grows.
Theo’s mother, Audrey, possesses a deep love of art, as evidenced by her partial degree in art history at NYU. At the museum, Audrey explains to Theo the significance behind natures mortes, foreshadowing her own death only moments later:
Whenever you see flies or insects in a still life—a wilted petal, a black spot on the apple—the painter is giving you a secret message. He’s telling you that living things don’t last—it’s all temporary. Death in life. That’s why they’re called natures mortes. Maybe you don’t see it at first with all the beauty and bloom, the little speck of rot. But if you look closer—there it is.
The invention of the microscope in the Dutch Republic inspired the genre of art known as natures mortes, which depicts bugs, flowers, and food in great detail and with extreme realism. The paintings depict the ephemerality of life with just barely rotted fruit and wilted flowers. Artists long not to memorialize the perfection of a scene, but the truth of it: that death is a natural part of life. Similarly, the novel memorializes Theo's coming-of-age story by illustrating not only the impactful relationships but also the challenges and tragedies in his life.
Audrey tells Theo that “living things don’t last,” foreshadowing her own life being cut short by an act of terrorism against art. This explanation of natures mortes ties together the significance of Dutch art and the recurring motif of loss in the novel. Like the Adriaen Coorte painting that Audrey speaks of, Theo’s story is driven by the idea that death and imperfection are inherent in life. From the outside, Theo’s lifelong journey may seem polished, but if one looks closer, they will find black spots in the form of loss, addiction, depression, and loneliness.
At the breakfast table, Mr. Barbour gushes about his so-called favorite topic: sailing. His description of the fervent skies and, most importantly, the freedom that sailing offers foreshadows the ironic circumstances surrounding his death:
“And it’s a tragic loss for you, Andy—Andy, look at me, I’m talking to you—it’s a terrible loss if you’ve made up your mind to turn your back on the very thing that gave me my freedom, my—”
“I have tried to like it. I have a natural hatred of it.”
“Hatred?” Astonishment; dumbfoundment. “Hatred of what? Of the stars and the wind? Of the sky and the sun? Of liberty?”
According to Mr. Barbour, sailing out on the open water beneath the starry sky gave him his freedom, and he is appalled by Andy’s “natural hatred of it.” Years later, both Mr. Barbour and Andy end up drowning in a boating accident in bad weather conditions. By drowning and thus becoming a fatal victim to his passion, Mr. Barbour achieves the ultimate form of freedom: death.
Mr. Barbour also scolds Andy for disliking sailing, calling it a “tragic loss” and a “terrible loss.” These phrases likewise foreshadow the tragedy that befalls the Barbour family. Even more tragic is the fact that Andy has always loathed sailing; yet, forced to do so by his father, sailing is how he loses his life so young.