I finished "Olive Kitteridge" quite happily just over a week ago. I've started recommending it at work, emphasizing its ability to portray silver linings amid all the dark clouds. I've been distanced from the book because I've already started reading "On Writing" by Stephen King, but I'll do my best to stay true-to-form today, but covering just a few of the stories. I also owe Goodreads a review, since that's why I have the book in the first place. Random House sent it to me all shiny and crisp, but even the short time it spent traveling in my bag wore it out pretty well. Nothing's ripped, but the edges are soft now, and you can see scratch marks from my keys and wallet. I knew this book wouldn't stay pristine, though, because I marked important passages with fun little arrows. Some look like sideways smiley faces, others like enigmatic Chinese characters.
A Different Road
I didn't mark much in this story, because most of the words simply drove the narrative to the climax, where the reader is left to gawk at Olive and Henry's near-lethal bickering. Coming home from a restaurant one night, Olive is in dire need of a restroom. The closest one is at the hospital (remember, we're in the sticks), and Olive remarks that since she was born there, the least they can do is offer her a toilet. The emergency-room doctor insists on checking her out, and I was surprised when Olive didn't resist. But the timing was unfortunate, because two masked gunmen arrived and forced Olive, Henry, a doctor and a nurse into the bathroom. One masked man remained their captor while the other presumably stole drugs. As hostages, Olive and Henry spewed insults at each other. They were uncontrollable under the pressure and revealed deeply buried resentments. This, combined with the already traumatic experience, had sad consequences for their relationship.
"No, they would never get over that night because they had said things that altered how they saw each other. And because she had, ever since then, been weeping from a private faucet inside her, unable to keep her thoughts from the red-haired boy with his blemished, frightened face, as in love with him as any schoolgirl ..." The captor had unmasked himself, revealed his fear and vulnerability, and Olive had taken notice. I could probably write a whole paper on how this event allowed Olive to embrace a side of herself she had neglected. But the author didn't revisit this, so I'll not dwell on it. That's something both good and bad about this book. The stories involve deep issues of so many characters, your imagination could run wild with any one, and as a result, we're left to make our own assumptions about Olive. Just like everyone else.
This wasn't my favorite of the stories, but it was pivotal for the characters' lives. I wish it had felt more dramatic so it would have had more entertainment value. As it is, no one is shot, and the event is both shattering and inconsequential. I suppose the author thought the conversation needed something extreme to bring it about, but if the event were too extreme, it would overshadow other important events in the book. The town believes Henry shuts down because he was faced with his mortality, but Olive knows the truth. Unfortunately, we don't have a second story from Henry's perspective, since he soon lapses into a vegetable state because of a stroke. Some insight might be available in the initial story, but the average reader doesn't have time to revisit that without devoting much too much energy to one (albeit Pulitzer-winning) book, and neither do I.
Highlights from Winter Concert
"Funny to have tickets in order to get into a church."
"What a lonely thing to be a young girl!"
"Mrs. Lydia was looking at her with those new eyes; unnerving to have a sixteen-year-old's eyes looking at you from an old woman's head."
In this story, a man admits to cheating on his wife. But first, they comment on the marriage of Olive and Henry Kitteridge, and introduce the idea that Henry can "stand" his wife simply because he loves her.
Tulips
Another plot-driving narrative, though this one includes more palatable circumstances and just plain better writing. The most poignant moment occurs when Henry collapses: "She shouted at him, waiting for the ambulance to come. His mouth moved, and his eyes were open, and one hand kept jerking through the air, as though reaching for something beyond her." This statement brings up valid questions. Was Henry continuously reaching for something beyond Olive? Was his love for her really enough?
Olive visits her neighbor, Louise, and we get a juicy back story concerning Louise's son, who stabbed his wife to death, thus driving his mother to the brink of insanity. Olive has problems, but she's grateful they're nothing like Louise's. Louise claims to live for her son, so he knows he's not alone. This parallel story magnifies Olive's issues with not being needed by her own son. "Oh," said Louise, laughing softly. "You came here for a nice dose of schadenfreude, and it didn't work."
I love some of the author's imagery, and one of the best examples of this is when moving windshield wipers are compared to shaming fingers: "It was shame that swiped across her soul, like these windshield wipers before her: two large black long fingers, relentless and rhythmic in their chastisement."
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In the rest of the book, I did a little marking, but mostly I was ready to finish it and get back to my nonfiction foray. Olive attends a funeral, reminisces about a lost love, visits her son in New York with his new wife (while relating the visit to the dubious ear of vegetable Henry), watches her husband pass away, and meets a potential kindred spirit to live out her days with.
Unfortunately for my constant reader, I'm even more eager now to get back to Mr. King's advice on fiction and writing in general, so the rest of this page-turner's meat will stay in the freezer unless you decide to cook it yourself.
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