Deborah Eisenberg said in an 2009 interview, "You might not realize what something is doing in one of the stories, but there isn't anything in them—in my opinion, of course—that isn't doing something; I don't just chuck in idle stuff for the fun of it. And if you miss detail, it will be at a cost to your understanding or enjoyment of a story. Things are placed at angles, and unless you're receptive to the way a given story is coming toward you, to the way you're moving through the story, you're going to miss a lot, and then you'll be confused, frustrated, and angry."
One of the many Eisenberg does in Transactions in a Foreign Currency is to use the imagery of light and dark throughout to develop a strong sense of characterization and provide the contrast in clarity and ambiguity that is central to the story.
"The airport was shaded and still in the pause before dawn, and the scattering of people there seemed to have lived for days in flight's distended light or dark; for them this stop was no more situated in space than a dream is." (p.130)
Eisenberg's protagonist is like a light wave. She is unnamed, both an universal and closely personal character. She travels constantly to be warmed in the reflected light off a solid object, Ivan. "Ivan was one of those men, and just standing next to him I felt as if I were standing in the sun." (p.131) She has no substance or mass as she is entirely defined by her environment. Eisenberg has the protagonist dress in Micheline's (Ivan's ex-lover) left behind clothing, because "None of the things that I'd brought with me seemed right." (p.141) Eisenberg emphasizes the protagonist's fluidity, her lack of self, through the observation "everything felt roomy enough, even though she looked so small." (141) She conforms to her environment, even in body size. Once dressed, the protagonist does not see a woman of substance, she observes that "The woman who stood in the mirror was well assembled, but the face, above the heavy, dark, clothing, was indistinct in the brilliant sunlight. I made up my eyes heavily, and then my mouth with a red lipstick that was sitting on Ivan's bureau, and checked back with the mirror. Much better." (p.141) Eisenberg chooses the dramatic color red, to be found not owned. The clothes, dark, heavy substantial are borrowed.
Eisenberg uses light imagery to describe Ivan and demonstrate the contrast between the two main characters. In addition to being someone who make the protagonist feel like she's standing in the sun, he "brings the morning gold with him" and "smelled as if he'd been sleeping in a sunny field" (p.133). And later that equates to clarity as Ivan has no confusion about his their relationship. He is unwilling to "falsify my feelings". (p.137) Ivan is solid and unchanging throughout the story while the protagonist is in a constant state of ambiguity, waiting to be formed. Any confusion about their relationship is completely on her part, as she realizes when talking to Eugene, Ivan's friend who stops in while Ivan is away.
"'Ivan just can't decide seem to decide what he wants.'
'No?' Eugene looked away tactfully, and I laughed out loud in surprise.
'That's true,' I said. 'I guess he decided a long time ago.'" (p.149)
Eugene is also described in light imagery. He raises questions about the protagonist's actual self. "Where're you from?" he asks and immediately Micheline's clothes become "terribly uncomfortable" (145) He expresses concern for her clearly unhealthy state (she hasn't eaten for days) and then she exerts energy around changing.
"'No, no. It's just these clothes,' I said, plucking at them. 'I've got to get out of these clothes.' He was beautiful, I saw. He sparkled with beauty; it streamed from him in glistening sheets, as if he were emerging from a lake of it." (p.150)
Here Eisenberg both forecasts and underscores Eugene as a messenger of lucidity. And the protagonist moves, travels, like a wave from the darkness of Micheline's clothing to the light of Eugene. It is he that brings the concreteness of her position into the light. However, in the wake of that night together, "The sun had bleached out Eugene's luminous beauty. With his pallor and coarse black hair, he looked like a phantom that one registers periphally on the streets." Eisenberg describes him as both black and white, no longer a beacon.
Finally, as the story closes with the protagonist having clarified her own situation. Eisenberg recycles light through the last few paragraphs building the story trajectory to its implied resolution. "How I wished I could contain the golden, wounding hope of him. But it had begun to diverge from me—oh, who knew how long before—and I could feel myself already forming: empty, light." (p. 153) Eisenberg depicts the protagonist as still being without substance, and juxtaposes the sensation of lightness (which the reader interprets as good) against the image of visual light she has used throughout. The image is intensified by her view of the city, "the darkening sight separated from me now by a sheet of glass I could almost reach out to shatter." (p. 153)
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