seems unable to unravel the emotional entanglement that ensnares them both.

Critics emphasizing the "autobiographical" aspects of the story often draw parallels between its elements and McCullers's own childhood aspirations in music, highlighting a notable distinction: if Frances is meant to "represent" McCullers herself, then Bilderbach is a fictional stand-in for her female piano instructor, Mary Tucker. Assuming the story’s sexual undertones are also "accurate," the discomfort Frances feels might have been even more profound for McCullers in "real life." By the moral standards of the 1930s, even hinting at homosexual desire would have been considered far more scandalous and "unnatural" than a young girl experiencing heterosexual desires. A story tackling lesbian themes might have risked censorship—even if the attraction was only suggested and never acted upon. McCullers’s apparent choice to portray her mentor as a male character has sparked considerable speculation and adds an intriguing layer to the various potential "interpretations" of the story.

Frances

Frances is the main character in the story, a fifteen-year-old girl grappling with a deep emotional crisis. Although the narrative is delivered in the third person, we perceive the events from Frances’s perspective, sharing in her thoughts, emotions, and distressing visions as her turmoil escalates to a terrifying, explosive peak.

On the surface, Frances’s "problem" is related to her music. In recent months, her piano performances have been disappointing both to herself and her teacher, Mr. Bilderbach. As she arrives at his home, she silently hopes for "a good lesson—like it used to be." This issue is significant, as Frances’s life revolves around her music. From a young age, she has been recognized as a Wunderkind, a musical prodigy, and both she and those around her have always believed she would pursue a career as a concert musician. She has diligently prepared for this future, at a great personal sacrifice; although she attends high school, she has no social interactions with her peers, dedicating all her time outside school to music, practicing to the point of exhaustion. Her family makes a brief appearance in the story during a troubling flashback of having breakfast with her father earlier that day. The story is not set within a family context but rather within Frances’s "second family" in the musical world, a network of relationships that seems more crucial and significant than those with her actual family: her cherished mentor, Mr. Bilderbach, and his wife; Bilderbach’s colleague, a violin teacher named Lafkowitz; and (though he doesn't appear directly) Lafkowitz’s student Heime, who, like Frances, has long been seen as a promising musical prodigy. As Frances’s performance has declined, Heime seems ready to step into the successful adult world that had once been envisioned for both students.

This situation marks a significant crisis in Frances's young life. As the narrative progresses, it becomes clear that her musical challenges are part of a more intricate internal struggle manifesting in various ways. Sometimes, Frances fixates on her own abilities, questioning whether she possesses the talent or dedication necessary to meet everyone's lofty expectations. However, her worries extend beyond music, mirroring the numerous changes and uncertainties of adolescence: the initial, bewildering sensations of sexual attraction, apprehension about the demands and stresses of adulthood, and a yearning for a childhood that seems to be fading just when she most needs its comfort and security. Although Frances struggles to articulate her conflicting emotions to others, the author reveals them to us. We, like Frances, are swept up in an unyielding tension that escalates throughout the story.

Unlike other characters, Frances's physical appearance is not fully described to us. In this way, the reader quite literally "sees" through Frances's eyes. For instance, we do receive a vivid description of her hands, particularly when she gazes down in horror at the uncontrollable twitching of her fingers. We perceive what Frances herself sees, but more importantly, we experience the torrent of memories, emotions, and thoughts that flood her mind. Many of these revolve around her teacher, Mr. Bilderbach, who holds immense significance in her life. Their relationship has been a source of support and inspiration; his wise and patient guidance is meant to be the cornerstone of the dazzling career she yearns for. Despite this, she feels discontented with the life she was born into, which she views as unbearably ordinary: her "plain American name," and the fact that her hometown is "just Cincinnati," not some exotic, distant locale. In contrast, the musical world she dreams of is vibrant and romantic, filled with exotic foreigners and continental sophistication. By claiming her place in that world and realizing her potential as a Wunderkind, she hopes to rise above ordinariness entirely, achieving fame and admiration through her ever-evolving artistry.

Frances holds a deep admiration for Bilderbach. She respects his profound passion for music and wholeheartedly values both the gentle care and strict discipline he employs to nurture her talents. Over three years of studying with him, they have developed a close bond, finding joy in the blossoming of her musical abilities. Bilderbach has become a father figure to her, and the childless Bilderbachs have come to regard her almost as if she were their own daughter. After her Saturday afternoon lessons at their home, she often stays for dinner and sometimes even spends the night. Bilderbach rarely addresses her as "Frances," preferring the endearing nickname Bienchen (meaning "little bee" in German), a reflection of his paternal affection. At one point, he openly states, "You see, Bienchen, I know you so well— as if you were my own girl." While little is known about her connection with her biological family, their minimal presence in her life suggests she views the Bilderbachs as her "real family" and feels as though she is "his own girl." However, this cherished relationship, once so exciting and productive, has undergone significant changes in recent months, becoming increasingly frustrating and distressing. The catalyst for these changes seems to be her transition from girlhood to womanhood. Her emerging sexuality and growing awareness of adult expectations have complicated her once secure musical "home," and she appears to be experiencing a strong and unsettling sexual attraction towards Bilderbach. The nature of her love for him and her desire to please him through passionate musical expression have become complex and disorienting, stirring within her alarming desires, disturbing dreams, and a tumult of emotions threatening to consume her.

As Frances hesitantly starts her lesson, she struggles ineffectively to play the music "as it must be played," and eventually dashes out of the house, seemingly abandoning her musical aspirations altogether. Frances battles to maintain her composure. Not only is she failing to make progress, but she also can't play pieces she once mastered effortlessly. Caught in the classic teenage predicament, she is torn between childhood and adulthood, unable to fully embrace either. Between a childhood of special treatment and significant promise and a future filled with ambitious goals, she finds herself in a frightening present of complete failure and lonely isolation. Her determination to succeed, coupled with the emotional music surrounding her, amplifies the "normal" disruptions and challenging transitions of adolescence. The successful transition into adulthood, which she always expected, now appears unattainable. She recalls the strong connection she once had with Bilderbach during simpler, happier times, yearning for a childhood she largely missed. Yet, at other times, she acknowledges having left much of her childhood behind, especially its innocent, straightforward dreams of success and fulfillment. As the story concludes, she seems entirely cut off from the bright future she envisioned, perhaps from any future at all. Her desperate flight suggests an attempt to retreat into childhood or to outrun time itself. The street she races down is filled with childhood imagery, "confused with noise and bicycles and . . . games"—but these are "the games of other children," not her own, just as the future she is escaping will belong to someone else.

Heime Israelsky

Lafkowitz’s star violin student, Heime is the only peer with whom Frances has a close relationship. Like Frances, Heime has long been recognized as a musical Wunderkind. They have often taken lessons together and recently performed a joint concert that garnered critical attention. However, their musical camaraderie is also a rivalry, a facet that has recently intensified. Reviews of their concert lavishly praised his performance, while describing Frances’s music as "thin" and "lacking in feeling." As Heime's fame and recognition grow, Frances faces crippling challenges; his success seems guaranteed, while her future is in jeopardy. In her frantic attempt to comprehend her crisis, Frances defines herself in contrast to Heime, who does not directly participate in the story but appears frequently in her disjointed flashbacks.

Heime has been playing music since he was four, longer than Frances. While Frances must attend high school, Heime has had the advantage of a private tutor, allowing him to dedicate even more time and energy to his musical pursuits. Looking at a photo from six months ago, Frances thinks he "hadn't changed much," whereas she has experienced significant changes recently. At one point, his hands are described as "babyish," with "hard little blobs of flesh bulging over the shortcut nails." This suggests Heime is still more childlike, while Frances feels "clumsy and overgrown," indicating her rapid maturation. He appears unattractive and self-centered, neglecting personal hygiene by often not washing his hands before playing. On stage, he is noticeably shorter, only reaching Frances's shoulder. She believes this may make critics more sympathetic to him and more critical of her performance.

Similar to Lafkowitz, Heime is Jewish, and like all the musicians in Frances's circle, he is male and likely of European descent. Each of these traits seems beneficial; the music world is portrayed as male-dominated, with its most notable figures often being European and Jewish. As a "plain American" from "just Cincinnati," and especially as a woman, Frances faces challenges that Heime does not. This might seem like she's making excuses, but it also highlights her isolation and the extent to which she feels like an "outsider" in the dazzling artistic community she so desperately wants to be a part of.

Mr. Lafkowitz

Mr. Lafkowitz, a colleague of Bilderbach, is Heime's violin instructor and an important figure in Frances's musical "family." He and his talented pupil frequently visit the Bilderbach home, where Frances and Heime often have joint lessons. At the story's beginning, as Frances arrives for her lesson, Lafkowitz and Bilderbach are playing a duet. When they continue, it becomes clear that both are passionate musicians, "lustfully drawing out all that was there" in the music. However, while Frances admires his musical talent, she finds him to be a threatening and unsettling presence due to his intensity and worldly nature.

Lafkowitz is described as "small," with a "weary look" and a "sallow Jewish face." His mouth is thin, and his eyes are "sharp bright slits." The story's detailed portrayal of his eyes offers insight into his character: when he first addresses Frances, his brows are raised "as though asking a question," but his eyelids appear "languorous and indifferent." This suggests a hidden, indirect demeanor, with his most significant conversation with Frances relying more on suggestion than direct confrontation. While critiquing her performance of a Bach piece, Lafkowitz notes that the composer fathered over twenty children, implying that Frances's playing lacks the mature (and specifically sexual) passion Bach was presumably expressing. Bilderbach disapproves of Lafkowitz's mention of such topics to a young student and contrasts sharply with Lafkowitz in his paternal, protective approach towards her. Notably, Bilderbach is depicted as more masculine; we first meet Lafkowitz through his voice, which Frances perceives as "almost like a woman’s, compared to Bilderbach’s," a voice that delivers his words in a "silky, unintelligible hum." Although Bilderbach’s critique of her music is more damaging to Frances, it is straightforward and softened, at least in her perception, with fatherly care.

Lafkowitz also plays a crucial role in Frances’s disastrous concert with Heime; it is he who suggests that the final piece be a work by Bloch, music that highlights Heime’s talents but, in Bilderbach’s opinion, is not "appropriate" for Frances. Although she had wanted to perform the piece as much as Heime and Lafkowitz, when critics confirm Bilderbach’s judgment, she feels "cheated" and blames him for conceding. Throughout the story, the reader's perception of Lafkowitz is constrained by the narrative point of view: we "see" him only through Frances’s troubled perspective. Lafkowitz seems to advance Heime’s career somewhat at Frances’s detriment, and her jealousy of Heime’s success includes resentment towards Lafkowitz. However, we are acutely aware of his impact on Frances. She acknowledges this confusion, though it overwhelms her; when it is stated that "Mister Lafkowitz always made her feel clumsy and overgrown," it is prefaced by the realization that he had this effect "without meaning to." While Lafkowitz possesses some unattractive qualities, he is not a complete villain; much of what we observe of him is colored by Frances’s own bitter disappointment.