In Chapter 1 of The Nightingale, readers enter the home of an elderly woman living in Oregon, who appears to have interest in examining moments from her past. To illustrate the depth of the narrator's connection to her home—which she will soon leave—Hannah utilizes a descriptive simile:
There is not much I want to take with me. But there is one thing. I reach for the hanging handle that controls the attic steps. The stairs unfold from the ceiling like a gentleman extending his hand.
From this initial description of the elderly woman’s home, readers receive figurative details about her attic. The simile "like a gentleman extending his hand" characterizes the narrator's home as one of safety and relative comfort, for the house itself appears to invite the woman into the attic. Although the narrator admits that "There is not much I want to take with me," Hannah's use of simile implies that the narrator still has a connection with the house—for it holds memories, presumably in the attic to which she feels figuratively invited. At this early point in The Nightingale, readers do not yet know that this woman (later revealed to be Vianne, a main character) has a complex and tortured relationship with concepts of safety and home. However, in Oregon at least, her house invites her to explore and remember—from a distance, that is—the physical evidence of her memories from World War II.
In Chapter 2, readers enter the fictional town of Carriveau in the late 1930s, where Vianne lives and raises her children on her lush, rural property. Hannah's initial descriptions of this primary setting are poetic and alluring, inviting the reader to imagine the space through the use of simile:
On this beautiful summer morning in the Loire Valley, everything was in bloom. White sheets flapped in the breeze and roses tumbled like laughter along the ancient stone wall that hid her property from the road.
The simile above introduces readers to the beauty of the French countryside in which Vianne lives—the way flowers and sheets tumble “like laughter” produces a stunning portrait of the freedom and peace of the French countryside, before the destruction of war. Laughter is rarely depicted in literature as something physical, but Hannah’s prose turns laughter into a tangible element. This French setting almost appears like a fairytale preserved in time, for Vianne’s property is hundreds of years old, hidden away by the ancient stone and seemingly untouchable. Hannah's use of laughter in her simile also imbues a sense of the human into the novel’s setting. There is an abundance of life in Vianne’s small corner of the world, which makes Carriveau's forthcoming destruction tragic and its eventual renewal all the more poignant. Hannah's figurative language thus heightens the narrative sense of calm before the proverbial storms of war.
When Vianne emerges from the Carriveau town hall after being forcibly questioned by Nazi soldiers over her involvement with Beck's disappearance, Hannah utilizes a simile to illustrate Vianne's traumatic feelings of disorientation:
When Vianne stepped out of the town hall, she felt like a woman who’d just washed ashore. She was unsteady on her feet and trembling slightly, her palms were damp, her forehead itchy. Everywhere she looked in the square were soldiers; these days the black SS uniforms were predominant.
In this passage from Chapter 27, Vianne experiences a harrowing interrogation at the town hall, for she cannot reveal that Isabelle killed Beck, nor that her family has further ties to the French resistance efforts. When she emerges after successfully lying to the Nazi soldiers, she feels "like a woman who'd just washed ashore." This simile represents Vianne's feeling of disorientation and bewilderment. Vianne did not emerge from the sea literally but feels that her once-familiar surroundings are akin to foreign land—land that the Nazi takeover has irreparably changed. Hannah's additional details that Vianne was "unsteady on her feet" and that "her palms were damp" further heightens the tension present throughout the novel. Vianne no longer recognizes her hometown, and she must constantly risk her life to keep her family as safe as possible. Hannah's figurative language thus illustrates the psychological toll of war and fascism upon the human body.
As war trudges on in the late chapters of The Nightingale, Isabelle and Gaëtan find themselves at an impasse. They do not want to separate, but their respective resistance efforts make them highly vulnerable to German attacks and interrogation. Having matured from her active participation in the war, Isabelle wishes to keep Gaëtan close but recognizes the fleeting nature of time. In Chapter 28, Hannah illustrates Isabelle's personal growth—as well as the destructive capabilities of war itself—through a simile:
The new Isabelle wanted to walk away without even trying. She didn't know if she had the strength to be rejected again. And yet. They were at war. Time was the one luxury no one had anymore. Tomorrow felt as ephemeral as a kiss in the dark.
In the passage above, the simile “as ephemeral as a kiss in the dark” is a haunting and poetic way to demonstrate how time becomes a luxury during times of war, famine, and genocide. Ephemera, in the literal sense, refers to something being temporary or of its time, such as papers, letters, phone calls, or stamps. Time is not typically expressed as ephemeral, for it is indefinite and surrounds existence itself. Hannah’s simile makes the argument, however, that time becomes ephemeral during periods of war, when death and destruction run rampant. Thus, Isabelle begins to cherish it as she would a fleeting kiss exchanged in the dark—a truly ephemeral thing.
As the likelihood of Gaëtan and Isabelle continuing their relationship grows slim towards the end of The Nightingale, Hannah divulges that the two of them often say to each other that they are “like lovers"—not in reality, but in their dreams:
“Like lovers,” she said, trying to smile. It was what they always said to each other, this dream shared of a life that seemed impossible to remember and unlikely to reoccur. He touched her face with a gentleness that brought tears to her eyes. “Like lovers.”
The simile "like lovers" becomes a repeated phrase between Isabelle and Gaëtan. A perfect life where the two could be lovers (in a more traditional sense) does not exist, because the war prevents them from pursuing a life uninterrupted by chaos and violence. If Gaëtan and Isabelle attempted to escape France together, they would likely be found and killed. The fact that Gaëtan and Isabelle characterize their own relationship with a simile—refusing to say they are lovers but they are like lovers—heightens the tragic romantic tension at the core of The Nightingale. By textbook definition, Gaëtan and Isabelle are lovers, but they believe the word means more. To them, to be lovers implies the presence of safety, peace, and prosperity—privileges they know they cannot achieve as long as the war continues.