The author contrasts both Tiny and Lena with Ántonia. Lena has made money, has never really loved anyone, and has never been hurt by a romantic attachment. Tiny has wanted only money and that is all she has found. At this point in the novel, Ántonia, a good soul with greater inner strength than either Lena or Tiny, has experienced nothing but grief, hard work, and her illegitimate baby. Cather describes the emptiness of Tiny’s life: She was like someone in whom the faculty of becoming interested is worn out. In contrast, the faculty of becoming interested is what constitutes much of Ántonia’s strength.
Jim describes the changes that have taken place on the land since he went away: Wooden houses have replaced the old sod ones, and beside them are little orchards and big red barns. This progress pleases him; he feels as though he is watching the growth of a great man or of a great idea. Here, Cather is making a correlation between Jim and the land; they have grown up together.
Ántonia exhibits her maternal qualities by not complaining about carrying Larry Donovan’s baby, nor complaining when she gave birth. She continued to work on the farm until the baby was born and then, proud of her child, she allowed the baby’s photo to be displayed in a fancy gilt frame at a photographer’s shop.
The character of Larry Donovan is vividly drawn: He seems to be a man without any principles. In contrast, we glimpse Ambrosch’s good side; we saw his concern for Mr. Shimerda’s soul, when he gave $300 to Ántonia, helped her pack, and took her to the train. But, as he did after Mr. Shimerda was buried, he reverted back to his surly self again.
As Jim and Ántonia are saying good-bye, he seems to realize why he has always been attracted so strongly to her. She is tied to the land. No matter where he goes, she will always go with him, just as the land and his heritage will go with him. He tells her: I’d have liked to have you for a sweetheart, or a wife, or my mother or my sister—anything that a woman can be to a man. The idea of you is a part of my mind; you influence my likes and dislikes, all my tastes, hundreds of times when I don’t realize it. You really are a part of me.
Jim has gotten an education. He has the promise of a job, with the implication of great financial success. Yet from this excerpt in the final paragraph of this section—. . . I could almost believe that a boy and girl ran along beside me, as our shadows used to do, laughing and whispering to each other in the grass—we are left with the impression that Jim doesn’t really enjoy life anymore. We see that he is leaving his roots because that’s what is expected of him. Consciously or unconsciously, he is following the path that the Black Hawk townspeople believe leads to success. Jim, like the other town boys, has become another cog in the machine of mediocrity and will never have the kind of personal success that even the hired girls will have.




















