
What I loved about Olive Kitteridge was its form. It felt
like a quieter, softer version of Jennifer Egan’s A Visit from the Goon Squad, another
novel-turned-collection-of-interconnected-short-stories that I loved. The form
offers us snapshots into the lives of the other residents of the town of Maine,
as well as giving us a full view of Olive herself, from various different
angles and through various different lenses. I love the way the stories
interweaved, that way characters who are central to one story are mentioned in
passing in another, the way we glimpse characters from different angles. In
general my favourite stories are those where Olive takes a back seat and is a
minor, not a major, character – ‘Pharmacy’, ‘Starving’, ‘Ship in a Bottle’, ‘Criminal’.
Indeed, if we class these for a moment as stories not chapters (of course they’re
both and neither, and it doesn’t really matter which), then ‘Pharmacy’ is quite
possibly my favourite short story that I have ever read.
Olive Kitteridge herself of
course takes centre-stage in the book as a whole. Olive truly is a brilliant
character, partly because she is not always a very nice one. She is difficult,
complicated, rude, at times frightening – and yet we also see her as intensely
empathic, a great feeler if not always a great talker. By seeing her from so
many different perspectives – many of whom do not like her – as well as her own,
we get a very interesting and complex vision of Olive, something I enjoyed. For
example, one of my favourite moments in the book is Olive’s appearance in ‘Starving’.
We don’t always like her completely, but we feel for her and we understand her.
It’s cleverly done.
In truth I probably would have preferred
to see less from Olive’s perspective; about half the stories in the book focus
on her, and I always preferred seeing her from the outside. The book’s form allows
it an unusual opportunity of showing a person through a wide variety of viewpoints;
this is used, certainly, but I feel like it could have been used more. I felt
like some of the stories from Olive’s perspective didn’t make full use of the
novel’s form. Bizarrely, then, the only tiny criticism I have of Olive Kitteridge is that I wish it had
had a little less Olive Kitteridge in it. This is certainly a minor criticism,
if that; it’s probably merely personal preference. The work teeters between
being a book about Olive Kitteridge herself, and a book about the various
inhabitants of Crosby. The title implies it’s the former, as do some of the
stories; but other stories, in which Olive features but as a passing comment,
imply that it’s the latter. And I think I half wanted to be the latter.
Regardless, I’m not sure it matters which it is; and even if neither the author
nor the reader is decided, it doesn’t lessen the reading experience.
Strout’s writing is flawless,
consistently beautiful. The book has a calm and almost old-fashioned tone. Even
in the stories most definitely set in the 2000s, I had a feeling they were
earlier in the twentieth century. However, I liked this; the tone of the book suits
both Olive and the town in which she lives; both seem to be struggling to come
to terms with the twenty-first century. Moreover, the writing adjusts to fit
the tone of each story, and as the narrative slips in and out of different
characters’ minds, it changes pace. Olive
Kitteridge has a polished balance between stories of dramatic events and
stories of utter normality, of the day-to-day lives of these people, small
moments that somehow take on great significant. I found this aspect of the book
very effective, and at times intensively moving.
So Olive Kitteridge is a beautiful, subtle, brilliant book. Strout’s
characters feel human and complex, and novel’s form is effective, and
pleasantly different. It is a complex look at life, people and place, in a touching
and intelligent way. All in all, I definitely recommend this book.
Greatest strength: Probably Strout’s beautiful
writing and the way it allows her to portray her characters.
Greatest weakness: As I said, I would have
liked less actually from Olive’s perspective, but this is a very minor point.
Let’s finish on a quote: ‘All these lives… All the stories we never
know.’
Next week: A Tale
for the Time Being, by Ruth Ozeki
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