The narrative gives the reader access to Ptolemy’s interior life both when his memory is failing and when he regains control of his mental faculties. Initially, Ptolemy lives in the past. In this respect, he is much like his hero, Coydog, who says:

I hear everybody I evah knew talkin’ ’bout things nobody know no more. I hear preachers an’ judges, white men and black. I hear ’em talkin’ ’bout tomorrow when I know that was a long time ago […] My world is made outta ash and memories, broken bones and pain (166).

Ironically, Ptolemy can’t remember the name of his current caregiver, but can recall events from eight decades earlier with perfect clarity. This is unfortunate because so many of Ptolemy’s childhood memories are tragic. He is tormented by the vision of terrible events that he didn’t have the power to change as a helpless six-year-old. He witnessed the death of his best friend in a fire and the lynching of his mentor. These memories persist in his consciousness to such a degree that the reader wonders if Ptolemy’s memory loss might not be an unconscious attempt to repress past horrors.

At the beginning of the novel, Ptolemy is as defenseless as a child and relies on Robyn to help him navigate a world that has grown increasingly alien to him.