The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

by

John Boyne

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas: Mood 1 key example

Definition of Mood
The mood of a piece of writing is its general atmosphere or emotional complexion—in short, the array of feelings the work evokes in the reader. Every aspect of a piece of writing... read full definition
The mood of a piece of writing is its general atmosphere or emotional complexion—in short, the array of feelings the work evokes in the reader. Every aspect... read full definition
The mood of a piece of writing is its general atmosphere or emotional complexion—in short, the array of feelings the work evokes... read full definition
Mood
Explanation and Analysis:

The mood of The Boy in the Striped Pajamas evokes a fast-growing sense of discomfort in the reader. This turns to foreboding and ultimately becomes shock and despair. This emotional journey is fueled by the painful juxtaposition between Bruno’s curious, innocent perspective and the harrowing realities of Auschwitz. Regardless of a reader's  age, reading this novel is a deeply unsettling experience.

From its outset The Boy in the Striped Pajamas makes the reader feel as though they are constantly choking back a warning, as the dramatic irony of Bruno’s innocence grows too much to bear. His misunderstandings and mistakes—such as referring to the prisoners’ uniforms as “striped pajamas,” or asking Shmuel to come and “have dinner” on his side of the fence—constantly remind readers how innocent and trusting he is. He has no idea that his family is participating in a genocide and would never suspect his father of acting cruelly or unjustly. This contrast consistently generates unease, as the reader is presumably more aware of the atrocities that Bruno’s limited viewpoint blots out. His family talks about Auschwitz more and more openly, but he doesn’t understand the ramifications of what they’re saying.

 As the story progresses, the mood becomes increasingly foreboding. The dramatic irony builds tension; the reader understands far more than Bruno, always anticipating the tragic consequences of his curiosity and ignorance. Details large and small—from Bruno’s forbidden friendship with Shmuel and his growing questions about the camp to his father’s comments about Jews “not being people”—heighten the feeling that the story is hurtling toward a devastating climax. That feeling turns out to be chillingly correct.

In the final chapters, the mood shifts to shock and despair. Bruno’s decision to enter the camp disguised as a prisoner has disastrous consequences, which the reader is powerless to warn him about. The moment when Bruno and Shmuel are swept into the gas chamber is unbearably tragic, made even more so by the speed and confusion of the novel’s climax. They are left, shocked and confused, to read the final accounts of what happened to Bruno’s parents—punishments that certainly don’t seem severe enough.