Readers may recognize The Blue Door’s protagonist, Flo, from two stories in my linked collection Strange Attractors. The Blue Door connects with her some years after the shocking crime her daughter Teddy commits in the story “Family of Two.” As The Blue Door opens, we find Flo living in a literal and metaphorical desert, processing the death of her friend Sunby, even as she anticipates a visit from Teddy and goes in search of her missing dog, named . . . Dog. In crafting a playlist for The Blue Door, I looked for songs that I feel represent principal characters, places, and themes in the book. As ever, I am struck by music’s power to express the breadth of the human condition, from sorrow to hope. Enjoy!
1. Flo—“The Giant of Illinois” (The Handsome Family)
Gothic Americana duo Brett and Rennie Sparks have a jones for storytelling in their songs, and “The Giant of Illinois” exemplifies their narrative craft in a poignant way. Drawing on the real-life story of Robert Wadlow, the tallest human in recorded history, “The Giant of Illinois” tells of a man who, in caring for pigeons, doesn’t notice his own pain—even as a blister fills his shoe with blood (in real life, Wadlow reportedly died from an infection resulting from a blister on his ankle). In the second verse, the giant is a child; he and his friend stone a swan, and the song describes his subsequent horror and guilt. The chorus binds these two chapters together, serving as a meditation on comfort, forgiveness, and ultimate transcendence: in a stunning metaphor and acknowledgement of the healing power of the natural world, the sky is a woman’s arms.
The song’s themes—guilt, loneliness, nature, and ultimate redemption—immediately spoke to me of Flo’s journey. And the Illinois reference resonates; it was in Illinois, after all, that Teddy’s crime took place. Is Flo a giant of Illinois? She just might be.
2. Teddy—“Between Two Points” (David Gilmour)
“Between Two Points” is David Gilmour’s interpretation of a song by The Montgolfier Brothers, originally released in 1999. Gilmour’s daughter Romany features on vocals, and it is her haunting interpretation that made me think of Teddy. The song, which includes lyrics referencing lack of hope at an early age, and a sort of resigned acceptance, speaks to Teddy’s lonely adolescent journey.
For me, this song is Teddy during her stint in a juvenile detention center: the self-blame, her internalized sense that others are right and she, Teddy, is wrong. In The Blue Door, we never “meet” Teddy in person: we see her in letters, and through her mother’s eyes, though Flo herself has not been with Teddy for some time. Flo is holding on to images and perceptions that she gained when the two of them were last together. People change, of course, and they change again; like most mothers, Flo hopes that when they meet next, her child will be happy. Happier, at least. “Between Two Points” captures the still image she carries of Teddy, until life provides her with the opportunity to see her daughter as she is now. Whatever that may look like.
3. Dog—“I’m An Animal” (Neko Case)
Not to be too on the nose, but I couldn’t resist Case’s fierce pledge of loyalty in “I’m An Animal,” her paean to the animal world. The song draws on the musician’s identification with beasts (the entire album on which it appears, Middle Cyclone, explores themes of instinct, nature, and the human condition), and celebrates an animal’s outlook on life. If humans can be calculating and sunk deep in samsara, animals on the other hand retain a pure, unashamed courage that, Case argues, humans would be wise to embrace also.
Are animals our teachers in this respect? Well, yes. And in The Blue Door, Dog, with his insight and dignity and wisdom, proves to be Flo’s patient, steady teacher on multiple levels.
We’re all animals, Case argues, and that’s a good thing. Flo would certainly agree.
4. Sunby—“Spring” (Vivaldi, reinterpretation by Max Richter)
For me, Vivaldi’s “Spring” captures the bright raw energy of new life juxtaposed with the acknowledgement of sorrow and loss. Perhaps that’s because spring’s hope and vitality can seem all the more meaningful, even jarring, coming after winter’s dormancy and sometimes cruel extremes.
Flo’s friend Sunby epitomizes this dichotomy of dormancy/growth, winter/spring, in his worldview: a pastor, he’s seen the contradictions life can serve up. And he’s lived those disparities, of course, battling cancer even as he strives to suck up every morsel of good that life has to offer. Sunby understands on a deep, intuitive level the cycle of life—its seasons, the rhythms (and sometimes pairing) of joy and sorrow—that we all experience as part of being human. And he would probably understand why “Spring,” in all its beauty, can evoke tears along with a feeling of transcendence.
In particular, I love the reinterpretation of “Spring” by Max Richter. It’s been said of Richter that he knows how to present emotion, and his minimalist take on “Spring,” marrying period stringed instruments with Moog synthesizers from the 1970s, summons that emotion via a modern, electronic vibe that I think Sunby would appreciate.
5. B.—“Wasted” (Nnamdï)
Chicago singer/songwriter Nnamdï has said of his song “Wasted” that it “has to do with communication—that whole song is just about being open to receiving information.” This made me think of Flo’s neighbor and friend B., who is open to the truths Flo has to share—about Teddy, specifically. It is B.’s nonjudgmental presence, her listening, that give Flo a safe space in which to unburden herself. To be human is to crave connection. “Wasted” celebrates the openness of B.’s spirit and the gift she gives to Flo by simply being present.
6. The clinic—“Peaceable Kingdom” (Patti Smith)
Patti Smith wrote “Peaceable Kingdom” as an anti-war song, specifically inspired by, and dedicated to, a young activist named Rachel Corrie, who was crushed by a bulldozer in a tragic accident in the Gaza Strip. The lyrics speak to strength, and lean into the idea of recognizing and accepting feelings of grief. Listening to this song, I thought of Flo, visiting an Urgent Care clinic, and the solace she draws from interacting with the young receptionist, Cal. “Peaceable Kingdom” offers comfort, and hope. So too does Cal. I chose Smith’s song to represent the solace the clinic provides our heroine.
7. Desert song—“Into Dust” (Mazzy Star)
It’s the vibe of Mazzy Star’s “Into Dust” that made me think of Flo and her desert walk. Sometimes it’s music rather than lyrics that speak to us on an emotional level, and that was the case for me with “Into Dust”: its sparse instrumentation captures the stringent poetry of the desert landscape Flo traverses on her search for Dog.
8. Playground song—“Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” (Nina Simone)
The opening chimes of Nina Simone’s “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” have a childlike quality befitting Flo’s brief stop at a playground. And the lyrics themselves speak to Flo’s predicament. She tries. She means to be good, yet she is profoundly misunderstood, again and again: in the wake of Teddy’s crime, in her efforts at the playground itself. Simone’s plaintive voice captures Flo’s dismay and, crucially, her defiance: she’s human, she’s made mistakes. But those mistakes, Flo might want us to know, don’t have to define her.
9. Mall song—“Chocolate Jesus” (Tom Waits)
“Chocolate Jesus” could have been written for agnostic Flo. In the song, Waits’ gravel-voiced narrator doesn’t go to church; he doesn’t know the Bible or even pray. But he finds comfort in candy—not just any candy, but a chocolate Jesus, which makes him feel good. Flo, in her brief encounter with a well-heeled couple outside the local mall, might relate: after a less-than-uplifting experience, she imagines a chocolate Jesus and the solace it might bring. Whether she’s channeling Tom Waits or simply creating her own version of happiness beyond the fabled blue door, I think “Chocolate Jesus” speaks to the bodily and spiritual comforts she longs for.
10. Scary man—“Holy Holy” (Geordie Greep)
Many fans already know Geordie Greep as the former frontman for the British rock band Black Midi, where he developed a rep for writing dramatic narratives featuring specific characters. That storytelling has translated seamlessly into his solo work, which fearlessly melds aspects of jazz, prog rock, and even Latin fusion. His characterizations are equally bold: the sleazy pickup artist voicing Greep’s “Holy Holy” is an unreliable narrator whose rampant insecurities become increasingly evident as the song progresses. If “Holy Holy” begins on a note of confidence, that bravado deteriorates quickly: listeners come to understand that beneath the arrogance, this fellow is a straw man.
Greep’s corrupt character made me think of the nameless antagonist in The Blue Door: both are cruel, self-important individuals possessed of a rigid worldview, imperfectly masking their insecurities. In both cases, the characters are frightening, possibly dangerous; in both cases they are also revealed to be hollow vessels. But while their behavior cannot be condoned, perhaps, ultimately, it can be pitied.
11. Hope—“Cinnamon Horses” (Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds)
Nick Cave’s profound album Wild God, released in 2024, represents on many levels the journey the artist has been on since the deaths of his sons Arthur (2015) and Jethro (2022). In interviews and through his music over the years, we’ve seen Cave coming to terms with his grief; Wild God, specifically the seventh track “Cinnamon Horses,” is a meditation on the ways human connection can leave us bereft—but also be a crucible for joy.
I think Flo would appreciate this ongoing conversation between sorrow and joy as it relates to love. And I think she’d admire the poetic ways in which Cave explores the theme. In “Cinnamon Horses,” vampires gather. Horses dance, presided over by a strawberry moon. And the song addresses the qualities of love itself: what it asks, what it costs. How it endures. I think Flo could relate: I imagine her walking in the desert, Wild God on repeat play. Art can help us feel less alone in the world, and “Cinnamon Horses” may just be Flo’s song of hope.
12. Walking—“Everything in Its Right Place” (Radiohead)
It was part title, part essential vibe that drew me to Radiohead’s “Everything in Its Right Place” as I reached for a song to represent the theme of walking in The Blue Door. In the book, Flo walks because she is on a mission to find Dog; she will, arguably, feel that everything is restored to its “right place” once she finds him. Walking is also something she routinely does to clear her head. The title, “Everything in Its Right Place,” speaks to the role a ramble can play in maintaining (or regaining) one’s composure. Meanwhile, the instrumentals of the song create an ominous and glitchy mood—similar to the feelings life’s curveballs can evoke—even as the song is as minimalist as the desert landscape Flo walks through.
You might wake sucking on a lemon, Thom Yorke intones. Flo’s response might be: there’s always . . . walking.
13. The Place—“If You Find This World Bad, You Should See Some of the Others” (Mogwai)
In The Blue Door, Flo, searching for Dog, determines that her destination will be “The Place”—a secret spot limned by a river that she and Dog often visit. No spoilers, but once she gets there, let’s just say that her experience will be informed by a complicated blend of beauty, awe, and yes, terror. Mogwai’s “If You Find This World Bad, You Should See Some of the Others” captures that complex cocktail of emotion: as Flo might argue, awe and terror can be inextricably linked. For me, Mogwai’s rich, layered soundscape evokes that linkage in powerful fashion. (Fun aside: try listening to this one on headphones—you won’t regret it!)
Janice Deal’s playlist for her novel The Sound of Rabbits
Janice Deal’s playlist for her story collection The Decline of Pigeons