Wish You Were Here – Jodi Picoult (2021)

Wish You Were Here by Jodi Picoult, published in 2021, is a poignant exploration of identity, love, and resilience set against the backdrop of the COVID-19 pandemic. Known for her emotionally charged narratives, Picoult crafts a story that begins as a tale of personal ambition and romantic expectation and swiftly evolves into a profound journey of self-discovery when her protagonist finds herself stranded on the remote Galápagos Islands just as the world shuts down. As the plot unfolds, the novel bends genre conventions, shifting from romance to psychological introspection and raising unexpected questions about memory, trauma, and what it means to truly live.

Plot Summary

Diana O’Toole has her life measured out in precise increments. She is twenty-nine, excelling in her career as an associate specialist at Sotheby’s, and poised for promotion after securing a historic Toulouse-Lautrec painting for auction. She is in love with Finn, a surgical resident at New York–Presbyterian, and is certain he’s about to propose during their upcoming trip to the Galápagos Islands. Everything, from her wardrobe to her future children, feels just within reach.

But in March 2020, the world begins to close like a fist. As COVID-19 creeps into New York, Finn’s hospital braces for an onslaught. He insists Diana go on the trip alone – a chance for her to escape the rising fear. Against her instincts, she boards the plane.

The journey is fragmented by stress and medication. In Guayaquil, her luggage vanishes, her phone signal weakens, and by the time she reaches the island of Isabela, the island is locking down. The hotel she booked is shuttered. Tourists are scrambling to return to Santa Cruz. But Diana, stubborn and prideful, refuses to turn back. In an unfamiliar land, with no belongings and minimal Spanish, she is stranded.

A toothless woman named Abuela offers her refuge. The apartment is modest – faded shirts, bare shelves, a hammock drifting in ocean breeze. The sea hums against black volcanic rock. Time becomes fluid. Days blur into heat and silence. In the absence of Wi-Fi, deadlines, and noise, something begins to loosen inside her.

Diana meets Beatriz, a wary teenager whose silence is a wall. They cross paths often – the town is small – but it takes time for Beatriz to speak. Slowly, a quiet companionship forms. Diana also meets Gabriel, Beatriz’s father, a local tour guide with a sharp tongue and guarded eyes. Their first encounter is hostile – he finds her reaching for toxic manchineel apples at the tortoise center – but over time, the friction dulls into curiosity. Gabriel becomes her reluctant interpreter, guide, and mirror. He challenges her neat plans and curated ambitions. He has lived with grief and loss, things Diana has only skirted.

Meanwhile, New York becomes a ghost on the horizon. Through intermittent calls, Finn shares the chaos he faces. His words are clipped, weary, distant. Patients die alone. Colleagues disappear. The pandemic swells like a tide neither of them can predict. Diana listens, guilt-ridden, as she watches pelicans fish and marine iguanas sunbathe.

Beatriz begins to unravel her own grief. Her mother is gone. Her body, not yet found, is presumed to have drowned. Her silence is heavy with loss. Diana, untethered from her own comforts, begins to understand that healing requires presence, not plans. In teaching Beatriz how to draw, she finds stillness. In cooking with Abuela, in walking the salt-crusted shores, she begins to forget who she was supposed to be.

Then comes the fever.

It is sharp and sudden. Reality bends. Images distort. Time slips like wet sand. She is in a hospital room in New York, tethered to machines, tubes in her throat. She cannot breathe. Finn is there, cloaked in PPE, his eyes red-rimmed. For days, she hovers at the edge of consciousness, caught in a dream stitched together from fragments of her life and hallucinations formed during the fever’s grip.

The island, the sea, the girl – none of it was real.

Diana had never left Manhattan. The night before their flight, Finn had gone to work. She had stayed behind, scrolling through headlines. The suitcase sat packed by the door, untouched. She never boarded the plane. She caught the virus and was admitted to the hospital, sedated and ventilated, hovering between life and death. Everything she had lived for weeks – the island, Gabriel, Beatriz, the quiet unraveling – was her mind’s desperate construction during sedation.

Waking becomes a second birth. She is physically weak, but emotionally reborn. The world is not the same – hospitals overflow, bodies are counted like invoices, and fear has soaked into the bones of the city. Finn is relieved, affectionate, supportive. He wants to reclaim their old future – the promotion, the wedding, the kids, the life they had so carefully sketched. But Diana has changed.

She remembers the island as if it were real. The taste of the sea air, the shape of Beatriz’s sketchbook, the weight of Gabriel’s gaze. Though no one else lived those moments, they are embedded in her like fingerprints.

As her body heals, she finds herself resisting the life she once wanted. The job that thrilled her now feels hollow. The engagement ring in Finn’s drawer feels like a trap. She takes a leave from work. She cancels their future.

Months pass. She contacts Beatriz’s school on Isabela Island. She writes letters she cannot send. She scours maps for beaches that match the ones in her dreams. Eventually, she travels to the Galápagos for real, walking the same sand she once imagined. She meets the real Abuela, who recognizes her shirt and welcomes her with the same warmth. There is no Gabriel, no Beatriz. But there is a house. A hammock. A feeling of home.

Diana leaves her career behind. She begins drawing again. She volunteers at the tortoise center. She watches the horizon as if waiting for someone to appear. The island is no longer a figment. It is where she begins anew, not because it is the life she planned, but because it is the one that called her.

Main Characters

• Diana O’Toole – A young, ambitious art specialist at Sotheby’s, Diana is driven by her life plan – career success, marriage, children – all mapped out to perfection. When her carefully ordered world is disrupted by the pandemic, she is forced into isolation on Isabela Island. Stripped of her possessions and expectations, Diana’s inner transformation begins as she reevaluates her identity, relationships, and desires.

• Finn – Diana’s boyfriend, a dedicated surgical resident in New York, represents the logical, grounded future Diana had planned. As he battles the pandemic on the frontlines, their relationship becomes increasingly distant, challenging both of them to reconsider what they truly want from life.

• Abuela – A local woman on Isabela Island who offers Diana unexpected shelter and kindness. Though they share no common language, Abuela symbolizes the warmth, simplicity, and human connection that come to redefine Diana’s experience.

• Beatriz – A withdrawn and troubled teenager living on the island. Her guarded nature gradually softens as she forms a tenuous bond with Diana. Beatriz’s storyline parallels Diana’s own emotional journey, and their relationship becomes one of the most meaningful in the book.

• Gabriel – Beatriz’s father, a local tour guide with a prickly demeanor who initially clashes with Diana. Over time, Gabriel becomes a pivotal figure in Diana’s transformation, challenging her assumptions and opening her eyes to a different kind of life.

Theme

• Isolation and Transformation – At its core, the novel explores how isolation – physical, emotional, and spiritual – becomes a catalyst for profound personal change. Diana’s time alone on the island is not just a survival story but a symbolic stripping away of artifice, leading to unexpected self-realization.

• The Illusion of Control – Diana’s meticulous life plan is upended by the pandemic, forcing her to confront the reality that much of life lies outside our control. This theme is echoed in the unpredictable rhythms of nature, relationships, and even the mind.

• Memory and Identity – As the story unfolds, memory becomes a fragile and mutable force. Picoult examines how identity can be shaped – or shattered – by what we remember or choose to forget, and how trauma alters our sense of self.

• Nature and Rebirth – The Galápagos Islands serve not just as a setting but as a metaphor for evolution and rebirth. The untouched natural beauty of the island mirrors Diana’s inner journey as she sheds her former self to embrace a new, more authentic life.

• Connection Across Barriers – Whether it’s the language barrier between Diana and the locals or the emotional gulf between her and Finn, the novel constantly returns to the theme of human connection. It suggests that empathy, curiosity, and openness are what ultimately bridge our divides.

Writing Style and Tone

Jodi Picoult’s prose in Wish You Were Here is immersive and lyrical, with a strong emotional current driving each scene. Her use of first-person narration pulls the reader intimately into Diana’s perspective, allowing for a nuanced portrayal of confusion, fear, wonder, and growth. Picoult’s signature blend of meticulous research and heartfelt storytelling is evident throughout, particularly in the authentic portrayal of the Galápagos environment and the frontline hospital scenes.

The tone of the novel shifts fluidly – from the professional bustle of Diana’s Manhattan life to the hushed introspection of her island solitude, and later to a raw emotional urgency as deeper revelations emerge. Picoult masterfully contrasts external chaos with internal calm, then subverts expectations with narrative turns that challenge the reader’s understanding of reality. The atmosphere ranges from tender and meditative to tense and surreal, reinforcing the novel’s themes of transformation and truth.