We’ve
all known people like Olive Kitteridge. But I can’t say I’ve known a book quite
like Elizabeth Strout’s Olive
Kitteridge.
Olive
is a retired schoolteacher. Her husband Henry has spent a career as a
pharmacist, until his business is bought out by a chain. They have one child, a
son. Henry likes people, and enjoys helping them. Olive, well, Olive is what
one might call an irregular person. Irregular as in unlikeable. Obnoxious. One
wonders how she managed to teach schoolchildren for so many years. Well, maybe
not. I occasionally had teachers like Olive Kitteridge.
Olive Kitteridge is a kind of
irregular book, but not in the same sense as its main character. It’s a collection
of 13 short stories, many of which barely touch Olive or her family.
Collectively, the stories paint a picture of this woman, who she is, her
prejudices, her disappointments. We come to gradually understand Olive, but we
don’t develop sympathy for her. She is not a character who evokes empathy.
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Her
primary disappointment is her son. She and Henry have built him a beautiful
home, when he suddenly and unexpectedly marries a clearly unsuitable woman
(from Olive’s perspective) and moves to California. The marriage doesn’t last
(Olive could and did predict it), and he remarries. He and his wife live in
Brooklyn. When he finally asks his mother to visit, things go well for a time
until she comes to understand that the reason for the invitation is that his
therapist suggested it, as a way for her son to come to grip with his family
and specifically his mother.
The
stories become a kind of collective morality tale. How we behave and act, and
how we relate to other people, has consequences. Olive will live the last of
her life as she lived the rest of it – unhappy.
Olive Kitteridge won the Pulitzer Prize for
fiction in 2009, cited for packing “a cumulative emotional wallop, bound together by polished prose and by
Olive, the title character, blunt, flawed and fascinating.” It does pack
that wallop. It does indeed.
Photograph, winter scene in Maine, by
Junior Libby via Public
Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
1 comment:
Sounds interesting. Those disagreeable characters can get under a person's skin, aye?
Blessings.
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