Big Mouth & Ugly Girl

“There was Ursula Riggs, who was an excellent student, a serious girl with an interest in biology and art, and there was Ugly Girl, who played sports like a Comanche and who had a sullen, sarcastic tongue.” 

Oates captures the concept of the teenage search for identity and self-assurance through the bivalent personality of Ursula Riggs. Initially created to protect Ursula from embarrassment over her body, Ursula’s Ugly Girl persona is a defiant personality that also embodies Ursula’s natural athleticism, principled morality, and rejection of authority and gender norms. As the novel goes on, Ursula realizes that her truest self is neither Ursula Riggs nor Ugly Girl but a union of the two poles. As such, this quotation connects directly to a much later statement by Ursula, which acknowledges that Ugly Girl is “like a uniform, or a skin” (240) suitable for some occasions but not others.

“Life consists of facts, and facts are of two kinds: Boring, and Crucial. I figured this out for myself in eighth grade. Wish I could patent it! A Boring Fact is virtually any fact that doesn’t concern you. Or it’s just trivial, a nothing fact. (Like the annual rainfall in, let’s say, Bolivia. Crucial to the Bolivians, but Boring to everyone else.) I know the Crucial Facts of Ugly Girl’s life are Boring Facts to others. Yet, to Ugly Girl, they are Crucial. There’s one test of a Crucial Fact: It hurts.” 

Chapter 2 reveals that middle school was when Ugly Girl first developed as a persona, a tool to help Ursula cope with her embarrassment around her body and departure from the swim team. Reading here that her concept of Boring and Crucial facts also emerged in eighth grade suggests it is part of the perspective Ursula developed to cope with the world. Ugly Girl is a creature of extremes: moods that vacillate between incredible pride and deep melancholy, and action that depends only on principle and not on consequence. Ursula’s stark notion of Boring and Crucial facts supports this all-or-nothing lifestyle.

“Dad was always asking me, ‘How’re things going, Ursula?’ with a frowning smile and that special concern in his eyes that made me want to believe he was truly interested, but I’d long ago learned not to tell him anything genuine, let alone in detail, because his eyes would glaze over, he’d get restless, glancing around for Mom to rescue him. Almost anything I said, he’d say, ‘Swell, honey! Sounds good. Keep it up.’ Did I blame my dad? No. I knew there was nothing in my life of genuine interest or importance. I was a Boring Fact.”

Both Ursula' and Matt’s fathers are often absent from their family lives, usually traveling for work. This has detrimental effects on the marriages of both sets of parents and causes distance between the fathers and their children. Ursula acknowledges her father as someone only superficially interested in her. At the same time, she signals her own deeply hidden insecurities through the idea that she is boring and somehow irrelevant to her father’s life.

“‘Look, none of these guys are the type, this has got to be wrong. It must be somebody else—’

‘What’s the type that does this stuff? Blow up schools?’

‘The shy quiet type. Y’know—repressed.’

‘That’s not Matt Donaghy. He’s got a wild sense of humor. He’s a class officer, for God’s sake.’”

Coming upon a group gossiping on Matt’s recent questioning by police, Ursula insists Matt would never do such a thing. This sets off a new wave of gossip focused on whether Matt fits the “type” of a school bomber. These snippets of dialogue, disconnected from any individual speaker, attest to the collective quality of gossip. They also signal that these teenagers live in a society in which threats of serious violence at schools are commonplace enough to produce a typology available to cultural reference. A subtle gesture toward the conditions in the US school system at the time of this book’s writing, the passage also illustrates the prejudices these conditions produce.

“‘What could I do, blow up the school?’ and when that got a few laughs, he might have said, ‘Massacre a few hundred people?’ and Skeet was into it, typical Skeet, pounding the table, laughing, as if the idea of Matt Donaghy doing such a thing was hilarious, ‘Like Columbine! Viva Columbine!’”

This is the book’s only direct reference to the Columbine High School shootings and attempted bombing. Significant by this alone, the reference’s arrival through the mouth of a teenager shows the pervasive quality such acts of violence have on American culture. The fact that both Matt and Skeet joke about this shooting also shows their immaturity and the attention-seeking behavior that will ultimately lead to the incredible consequences in Matt’s life.

“It was a Monday afternoon in February, after classes. Two weeks, four days after Matt Donaghy’s ‘arrest.’ Another Nothing-Day. Smelling of dirty socks, and worse.” 

After his suspension and social ostracization, Matt’s mental and emotional health steeply declines. Oates signals his deepening depression through the repetition, repeating the sentence that opened Chapter 13 here at the start of Chapter 14. This repetition signals the depressive monotony of Matt’s daily experience. The descriptions attached to this experience also show Matt’s negative worldview: Days mean nothing and smell of old socks.

“Matt felt his lower jaw tighten. He’d been gritting, grinding his teeth lately. During the night, in his troubled sleep. But now he smiled. Tried to smile. Was it an ugly, angry smile? He was trying for the nice-guy preppie smile he’d always worn.” 

Matt’s initial reaction to Mr. Steiner’s rejection of his piece for the school paper shows him putting on a false smile before he begins to argue. This description of the changes in Matt’s habits (he’s started grinding his teeth) and dissociation from his own appearance (“was it an ugly, angry smile?”) shows the deterioration of Matt’s previous social persona and the emergence of a more hostile, reclusive one. Notably, this persona is more in line with Ugly Girl than it is with Matt’s popular and gregarious Big Mouth.

“This strange, angry edge to Matt Donaghy! His smile had grown ironic, suspicious. He looked taller, leaner, like a knife blade. Even his freckles looked bleached out. His faded-red hair was longer; he had a habit of brushing it impatiently out of his eyes. His skin looked roughened, as if he’d been rubbing it with sandpaper. He’d overheard his mother saying to his father, ‘He isn’t a boy any longer. He’s changed’… It was like Matt had been wounded somewhere on his body he couldn’t see, and the wound was visible to others, raw and ugly. When they looked at him, they saw just the wound. They weren’t seeing Matt Donaghy any longer.” 

In addition to Matt’s emotional and mental shift, he goes through a physical transformation as well. His hair grows longer, he seems to grow thinner and taller, and his freckles pale. These may all be consequences of normal pubescence, since “he’s not a boy any longer,” but coupled with his changed habits and mental state, they suggest a whole new Matt Donaghy. Again, this mirrors Ursula’s transition to Ugly Girl and reflects the incredible mental and physical transformations teenagers undergo.

“He’s depressed. I know what depression is.

I’m exhausted too. I can’t sleep and I’m exhausted.

He’s rude to Alex. Alex loves him.

I hate this community. I used to love it.

I know what depression is, and Mr. Parrish and the school district are to blame.”

Like the cloud of gossip experienced by Ursula in Chapter 3, this discussion between Matt’s parents occurs in disjointed lines of dialogue detached from a speaker. Overheard by Matt, they indicate the essential lack of difference between the ways adults and teens converse. These lines also allude to the depression experienced by Matt’s mother. However, their detachment from a speaker, and the absence of any commentary from Matt, symbolizes the inability to truly articulate and discuss personal problems shared by adult parents and their teenage children.

“I wish you could be my friend, Ursula. The girls I used to know, I don’t trust now. You’re different—you’re not a ‘girl’—like them. Even your name—URSULA. It’s special.” 

Upon her introduction in Chapter 2, Ursula declares that even her name is ugly. As such, it is an extension of Ursula herself, one she also sees as ugly. Matt’s perspective on Ursula is different. He does not see Ursula as ugly but as special and unique. The attribution of this quality to Ursula’s name again reflects its connection to Ursula herself in Matt’s mind.

“Mom goes: ‘Ursula, we hardly ever see you anymore. Lisa misses you.’ When I don’t say anything, but am feeling a little guilty, Mom adds, ‘Lisa looks up to you, honey. You’re her big sister.’ (Like I’m Frankenstein, or something. B I G.)” 

Ursula’s mother tries to convince Ursula to join her and Lisa at a dance event in Manhattan. When she reminds Ursula of her big-sister status, the reader sees the vast difference between Ursula’s interpretation of the statement and its true intent. Her mother certainly did not mean to allude to Ursula’s size, but Ursula takes it this way.

“A controversial local character, Reverend ‘Ike’ Brewer, who had his own small church, Apostles of Jesus, where he preached against sex education in public schools, public funds for AIDS research, affirmative action, and ‘giving a free ride’ to feminists, gays, blacks, ethnic minorities…. I guess ‘religious’ people like Reverend Brewer don’t have a clue what America means.” 

The father of the Brewer twins—bullies of Ursula who report Matt’s joke about blowing up the school as a serious threat—Reverend Ike Brewer is also a racist and bigot. As with the reference to the Columbine shootings, the novel’s reflection on problems in contemporary American culture is clear here. The idea of a socially conservative, religiously fundamentalist preacher is likely all too familiar to many of the text’s American readers.

“In the book shop I picked up The Obstacle Race: The Fortunes of Women Painters and Their Work by Germaine Greer, who I’d sort of heard of, and leafed through it, and this leaped out at me:

‘More insidious than the teachers’ contempt was their praise. At all the art schools women consistently bore off the honors. … Women easily confused this kind of success with genuine artistic achievement. In such a situation it is very likely that the wrong women were encouraged, for true artistic ability often presents itself in a truculent aspect which does not find favor with paternalist teachers.’

These words really struck me. It was like the author was talking directly to Ugly Girl. It was worth coming to New York just to read this. Truculent: I was pretty sure I knew what the word meant, and it meant Ugly Girl.”

This is another passage in which Oates clearly wishes the reader to relate her story to wider cultural conditions. This passage from an actual book by feminist scholar Germaine Greer highlights the problem of female artists and their artworks finding success only through the acceptance of male teachers and critics. The passage searches for a world that understands the value of women’s arts and achievements innately, not through a masculinist lens. A budding feminist and appreciator of the arts herself, Ugly Girl’s identification with this passage indicates her growth into a self-actualized feminist adult.

“On Broadway there were these tough-looking girls, a few years older than me, in sexy leather pants and funky little jackets, their spiky hair dyed in streaks of green, maroon, orange, and their earlobes pierced and glittering like mine. Except they wore nose rings, too. Were they cool! Seeing me, they whistled. ‘Hey there, sexy!’ They were grinning and waving. I smiled back but didn’t say anything, feeling shy. I kept walking. Still, it felt good. They were Ugly Girls, too.” 

In this chapter of escape from other feminine pressures (the bullying of the Brewer twins, her mother and sister’s insistence she enjoy dance), Ursula finds a model for her future aesthetic. This scene frames the style of young punk women not as fringe but as an acceptable model for a budding teen. Notably, these women stand on Broadway. In a text in which plays and performances are a recurring motif, this is not a random setting. Instead, it suggests the unabashed and confident performativity of this aesthetic, a feminine pride in shunning patriarchal ideas of femininity on par with the statement in Greer’s work. In Ugly Girl’s bold haircut at the end of the text, we see her take another step toward this radical female self-confidence.

“‘More trouble at that school of yours, Ursula! Now lawyers are involved. Ouch!’ It was Dad, reading the front-page article in the Westchester Journal. ROCKY RIVER SCHOOL DISTRICT PRIME TARGET OF $50 MILLION DEFAMATION SUIT. It was sort of shocking to see the name Donaghy in print for the first time. Claire and William Donaghy, plaintiffs. Matthew Donaghy, 16, their son. Now Matt’s name was right there in the paper, and would be on TV and radio, and it would be worse for him than before.” 

Expertly told through Ursula’s eyes, this passage articulates the dual insensitivity of Ursula’s parents and the wider adult world (figured though the newspaper). Ursula’s father makes light of the crisis Ursula’s school and friend are facing by calling it “that school of yours,” indicating his disinterest in how Ursula feels on the matter. Similarly, the newspaper publishers are unconcerned about how public mention of Matt’s name and involvement with the case will damage his reputation.

“There she was, my little sister, pushing food around on her plate like it was poison. Like she had a dread of gaining a pound on her flimsy sparrow bones. And Mom wasn’t noticing? I said, ‘Lisa, what the hell? Are you dieting?’ making dieting sound like something really stupid, and Lisa didn’t look at me but muttered, ‘No, I am not. You should.’ (Which was the first time, ever, that Lisa said anything like that to me.) And Mom got into it quick, saying, ‘Ursula, leave your sister alone. You’re always picking on her.’ And I shot back, ‘If Lisa becomes anorexic, Mom, it’s going to be your fault.’ And both of them turned on me then, practically beating Ugly Girl back with sticks.”

In some ways Big Mouth & Ugly Girl is a tour through adolescent personal and social problems. Ursula has body-image issues. Matt is the victim of bullying and contemplates suicide. The Brewer twins suffer a bigoted upbringing. Now Lisa, stepping into her own adolescent years, faces her own trouble: an eating disorder. This passage is another of Oates’s assertions that parents should watch out for their children’s struggles. It also signals that Ursula’s own body-image issues may be internalized consequences of her upbringing, as her mother seems to defend Lisa’s desire to be thin. This passage again displays how Ursula’s prickly exterior is a skin for a truly courageous and caring heart—though she chastises Lisa, she does so to protect her from the possibility of anorexia.

“We’d always gotten along. Except that last game. Courtney was one of the players who’d glared at me as if, personally, she’d have liked to rip my throat out with her teeth.

Ugly Girl never forgets.

Ugly Girl never lets down her guard.

I wasn’t feeling so ugly this morning, though. Too much cramming my head.” 

Ursula’s relationship with Matt, as well as her personal growth, has brought about a change in her. In this passage we see both sides of Ursula. First, she is a young woman still privy to personal vendettas and assumptions of others’ hatred for her, as evidenced through the line “she’d have liked to rip my throat out.” On the other hand, Ursula is beginning to shed her Ugly Girl persona and the social prickliness that comes with it: “I wasn’t feeling so ugly this morning, though.” This foreshadows Ursula’s ultimate realization that Ugly Girl is a costume appropriate for only some occasions.

“By the door to Mrs. Carlisle’s room, Matt was waiting. I always liked to see how tall he was, and that faded-red hair he’d been letting grow a little long, and how he’d be looking around, I guess, for me. Ugly Girl! Courtney was saying some other things, earnest but keeping it light. I remembered now that Ms. Schultz had asked Courtney to be captain when I quit, and a good team captain has one primary thing on her mind: winning. That’s spelled W-I-N-N-I-N-G. I could admire that, and I had to concede that Courtney seemed genuinely friendly.” 

The next step in Ursula’s transition toward greater maturity is noticing the genuineness of people around her. Though just a moment ago she assumed Courtney wanted to rip her throat out, after seeing Matt, Ursula concedes that Courtney is both a good person and a good captain to the basketball team. Ursula’s experience of love and admiration for another has healed her damaged conception of her self-worth, which allows her to better appreciate the worth of others.

“Matt’s father began to shout at him. ‘It doesn’t matter what you want, Matt. We’re in this too far to back out. My name is at stake—my integrity. Just remember, you got us into this—with your idiotic, childish sense of humor.’” 

When Matt initially told his father about his questioning by the police, his father’s first response was to ask whether “our name… was in the news yet” (62). He also tells Matt that his apartment is being downsized, implying he will likely be laid off. Now disheveled and out of work, Matt’s father’s main concern is still his reputation. This shows how the suit connects to Matt’s father’s damaged ego and need for admiration. It also displays his ironic lack of concern for Matt’s actual well-being (the whole grounds of the suit) through his refusal to call off the suit and his shouting at Matt.

“Weird: A jock like Trevor Cassity who carried himself so boastfully at school, who’d been bragging of his full-tuition sports scholarship to Tulane for next year, was just a kid who lived with his parents like the rest of us and he was upstairs in his room and his father summoned him downstairs calling, ‘Trev-or!’ Like Trevor could be eight years old, not eighteen.” 

Though Oates separates the Rocky River High School population into clear heroes (Ursula), bystanders (Matt’s friends and Stacey Flynn), and antagonists (Trevor Cassity and the Brewer twins), she also extends the same level of authorial sympathy and understanding to every single adolescent. Here Ursula realizes what Oates hinted at in her prior description of the Brewer twins’ home life: that even the teen characters who seem the most spiteful and inhumane are simply children, suffering like all the others and struggling to find themselves in an adult world that neither understands them nor has their true concerns at heart.

“What I missed was my teammates, though I wouldn’t have expected this; and the FIERY RED sensation that came over me just entering the locker room to change into my uniform, and all of us, the team, moving into the gym together.” 

This statement about a fiery red (intensely prideful) feeling upon entering the locker room is a direct contrast to the inky black (melancholic) feeling Ursula experienced her last time in the room, after missing her penalty shot. The feelings Ursula associates with the changing room are different because she is. The novel’s events, particularly Ursula’s relationship with Matt and her clear display of principled action, have increased her self-confidence. This allows her to appreciate others more easily and to stymy the social embarrassment that manifested as a hostile and antisocial attitude.

“It was strange about Ugly Girl. She was like a uniform, or a skin, I could slip into, but she wasn’t right for all occasions. When I was with Matt, for instance. And once when I entered the gym, just after rejoining the team, some of the girls who were already there for practice turned to look at me, as if they’d been talking about me, and they laughed, and whistled and applauded and gave me the high five. ‘Urs-la! Riggs!’ I half expected them to call me Ugly Girl. It surprised me sometimes, that no one knew about Ugly Girl. She was my secret, even from Matt.”

This crucial turning point in Ursula’s mental life is also an important resolution point in the novel’s plot. Throughout the text Ursula has slowly realized that Ugly Girl is not her true self but a performance, much like Matt’s Big Mouth. This performance helps her to stand up to those who might want to impede her or harm those with less bravado, but this harsh exterior is not all she is.

“Matt was quiet. Sure he’d like to forgive the Brewers, he’d like to forgive all meanness and evil, but it wasn’t that easy if you’ve been hurt. And though Matt was in a good mood these days, he’d remember the hurt for a long time.” 

Matt admits that he would like to forgive the Brewer twins (the true source of all the social turmoil Matt endured the past three months). However, he also knows that forgiveness does not come easily when someone is hurt as deeply as he was. Oates reminds readers that though forgiveness and understanding are always the best course of action, violence, abuse, and gossip have long-lasting effects and leave deep scars. This is Oates’s final warning against bullying; it also encourages those who might see bullying to stop it before its consequences escalate.