Olive Kitteridge

Not a novel in the traditional sense with one story arc, instead Strout uses the interconnected vignette to show the life and effect that Olive Kitteridge has in her small town. She is a woman who has many sides to her personality and almost all of them unattractive. My first note about the book is how on earth does Henry stand her? She’s judgemental, paranoid and suffers the hubris that many with low self-esteem have. She hates anyone she feels threatened by (Dr. Sue) and condemns anyone who she thinks is below her. It’s hard to think well of her and few people do. I wondered how differently this book might have been received if Strout had made her a man instead. We tend to forgive these same traits in a man that we revile in a show more woman. Olive is flawed, as are we all, but she means well. Not exactly a loving curmudgeon, but there are glimmers. You have to wait for them though.

It’s through other people that we see Olive more fully. Sometimes there are moments of kindness and tenderness amid the judgement and manipulation. Any feelings of sympathy, empathy or compassion are reserved for those other people, most of whom have thoughts of, or actually commit, suicide. I guess a life lived too close to Olive Kitteridge makes that seem like a good idea. The most sympathy goes to Henry, who must see something worthwhile in his wife and in the end, when he’s in the nursing home, she does well by him. She also reveals some startling depths of feeling and how much of what she does seems against her will. I think she’d like to act better in some circumstances, and over time I think she bit her tongue more often.

Not all of the stories are equally interesting or feature Olive prominently and some of them I just skimmed. I did like how some introduced entirely new things and others elaborated on previous stories. The time seemed to jump around a lot though and could have used some date stamping along with the chapter titles. I doubt I’ll revisit the book, but I don’t regret the time I spent with it. show less

People tell me they find this book depressing. At best, they condemn it as too realistic as if the function of literature should be to distract us from such things. Even I found the beginning difficult because Olive seemed to not give her kind husband Henry a break, but Henry is kind effortlessly. He would certainly find this book depressing. Olive doesn't have the choice to make an effort to be more like Henry. She has as little insight into who she is as Henry until the book's end. No one in the book really does and thus they suffer when they realize that life doesn't really work out the way they've been told. When they notice, they become surprised, then angry, then depressed and think it's just them. Maybe that's what people mean by show more "too realistic" but this refusal to see the conventional as desirable is why I like this book so much and had to immediately start the sequel Olive, Again as soon as I finished. show less

Look, this isn’t easy. Not a good time. And, fittingly, not easy to empathize with—these are stories about rich white people getting old and having problems. Everyone in this book has a place to live, plenty of food, a community. But they’re suffering. And the sufferings meld and mix into a mosaic that is almost hopeful. You don’t need to like any of these people—they aren’t nice. But you might learn something about self awareness, about dealing with depression, about inheriting the pain of our parents and where we might be able to take that pain. Great writing. Recommended? I’m really not sure.

After the initial few chapters, I almost gave up on this book. I began to doubt if the story would ever get around to really telling something about this Olive person. But I stuck it out because when she did appear, I was smitten with that no-nonsense, panty-hose wearing, thick ankled, unapologetic Olive character. The transformation from entertaining words on the page to memorable woman wasn't until the last quarter of the book. That happened for me when she visited her son in New York.

Now I'm breathlessly awaiting the DVDs of the Frances McDormand rendition to arrive.

There is truth, wisdom, and compassion to spare in these pages. Elizabeth Strout has created a 21st century original in Olive Kitteridge, a woman who speaks her mind and damn the consequences. Olive is blind and insightful in equal measure. She is harsh and brash, but never sentimental, never phoney. The stories in this volume shine whenever Olive's name is mentioned. You might wince or cheer when she is led away by airport security, but she is bound to elicit a response. Awarded the Pulitzer Prize.

This is not the sort of book that I would expect to stay up half the night reading and then pick up immediately the next morning, upon my son's departure for school, to finish. Such behavior by me is generally reserved for a good murder mystery or thriller. This book is made up of less sensational stuff, but was strangely compelling. Not that there weren't touches of the sensational in the lives of Olive Kitteridge's neighbors, occasionally even in the life of Olive herself -- but the focus of the book seemed more upon how we muddle through life: our actions, reactions and interactions; and how our actions are perceived by, and affect, others.

This book left me feeling unsettled. I don't like books that have phony-feeling endings that show more tie up all the loose ends neatly, but this book was the opposite extreme. The glimpses of Olive and her family and neighbors left me with so many unanswered questions . . . I guess that's one of the points, that life is like that and the people we know, we know only so much about . . . show less

I am still wondering why I finished reading Olive Kitteridge, the Pulitzer Prize winning 2008 novel by Elizabeth Strout. Usually, I need at least one central character in a novel to be likeable even as he or she struggles with personal demons.

But, in this novel, the main character - for whom the book is named - is neither likeable nor struggling to surmount her demons. She's actually manipulative, condescending, and over-the-top critical of absolutely everyone she meets. She humiliates her husband, Henry, endlessly mainly, I think, because his everlasting cheeriness irritates her.

She has clearly assaulted her son, Christopher, both mentally and emotionally until, as a grown man, he runs as far away from her as he can get. After show more therapy, he does attempt rapprochement only to face Olive's continuing inability to accept any criticism or to see any fault in her own actions.

Olive shys away from any self-awareness, which frustrated this reader, since I wanted her to mature, at least somewhat, by the end of Strout's tale.

By story's end, Olive Kitteridge is still 73 going on 7. show less