Long Live Olive

When will it end? Death, old age, sickness, defraying relationships. Just a small list of Olive Kitteridge's many dismal themes. I do recall various heartwarming moments throughout Elizabeth Strout's complex narrative, but most of the time I nervously turned the page anticipating nothing short of an emotional disaster. However, after the many moments of overwhelming despondence, I'm glad to say that I thoroughly enjoyed the novel's ending. After all, the 2008 story received the Pulitzer Prize for a reason. After thirteen short stories featuring conflicted characters and desperate situations, the last few passages allowed me to relax and turn the last page with a smile. Olive Kitteridge, the hopelessly cynical protagonist, ultimately finds the silver lining of life. Better to do so seventy-two years into your life than never. However, for these past seventy-two years, Olive has constantly suffered from a battle within. Naturally pessimistic and critical towards others, she always finds the most miniscule flaws. More often than not, Olive musters up enough gumption to speak her mind. Her blunt personality creates a confident facade, but her actual fear for life forces Olive to experience a "contest within her" (169).  Although not afraid to tell the truth in trivial moments, the protagonist struggles to free her emotions when dealing with dire situations- including the tension between herself and her son. Her internal conflict grows and grows, and along with it blossoms self-pity and anger. Too busy experiencing extreme hatred or compassion for someone, Olive fails to find her own place in the world. Kitteridge's inner loneliness allows Strout to evoke pathos from those who also face personal plight. This emotion lingers even after Henry accuses Olive for rarely apologizing, for which she admits "he was right" (267). Her realization, years after her husbands death, marks a significant turning point in Olive's self-assessment. I agreed with Henry's claim, and resented his wife's inability to take responsibility for her actions. Therefore, her direct characterization of Henry as "right" juxtaposes her previous pride and offered a spark of hope. I have waited 267 pages to hear Olive say those words! Admitting one's mistakes may seem normal, but for Kitteridge, doing so would threaten her false confidence and pompousness. Her matter of fact tone created by the casual diction of "right" represented a huge transformation in the way Olive looks at herself and those surrounding her. At this point, nothing can go wrong. The main character finally finds faults in herself, which ironically fosters closure and happiness. Now that the inner-makeover completes itself, Olive now looks at the world with a newfound optimism and does "not want to leave it" (170). Completely juxtaposing her past apathy, Olive's new zest for life heartens me. After watching her husband die and old age bring stress upon many others, Kitteridge often speaks of death as a knight in shining armor to save her from the crazy world in which she lives. Her indirect characterization as satisfied with her place in life reveals a whole new Olive. The old Olive unnerved me, but this different, content woman really heightened my praise for the end of Strout's novel. I found her revolution encouraging as the author revealed the potential for true happiness and self-love. Leaving me smug, the novel's completion motivate's me to expose the importance of embracing flaws and accepting one's real self. Closing the book for the last time, I knew that I would miss the sassy and relentless Olive Kitteridge.

From iPhones to Nursing Homes

Oh, the joys of youth. Old enough for freedom, but young enough to avoid any real responsibility. Driving in the car, singing with the windows down, laughing with my friends. Nothing can stop us- at least until a pair of elderly pedestrians cross the street. I slam on the brakes and turn the music down. A hunched over woman shuffles across with the help of her grey-haired husband, after he takes a moment to adjust his hearing aid. This cute, yet pathetic image slaps my celebration of teenage freedom in the face. Right before me, my future. When does this happen? One day, a senior in high school. The next, a senior citizen with a discount at Bob Evans. The day will come, and I will not accept it graciously. The future frightens me, as well as the middle aged Bob and Jane Houlton in Elizabeth Strout's novel Olive Kitteridge. With her own golden days not far ahead, Strout addresses the scary and bittersweet tick tock of life. Published in 2008 with the middle aged baby boomers in mind, the author sees the world as a clock with love and hate for both the past and the future. And I could not agree more. After the first half-century of his existence passes by, Bob reveals "life picked up speed" (125). Strout utilizes this character's acknowledgement to put forth her assertion that life's moments accelerate before one has time to appreciate them. Although the days may often drag on, the years eventually begin to blur together. Human nature tends to either live in the past or obsess with the future, rather than focus on the present. What lies ahead holds expectations and uncertainties, for which Bob's wife admits "I'm scared of" (138). Completely emulating my own apprehension towards change, Jane serves as a synecdoche for those who also fear the future. Her direct characterization as 'scared' reveals the normality in anxiety for what succeeds the present. However, this woman still  believes "life was a gift" and that the small snapshots of life fly from one's fingers too quickly to grasp (126). This metaphor comparing life to a gift strongly supports the novel's theme regarding the beauty and privilege of life's small moments that many fail to appreciate. I contend with the author's view that although the concept of time and the inevitability of death may seem daunting, both are natural. Jane's gratitude for life indirectly characterizes her as optimistic, which allows Strout to offer a more accepting outlook on life and curb the fear of the unknown. The author encourages those who dread old age to keep an open mind and stray away from negative thoughts. I agree, and believe that the present deserves full attention, whereas the future should stay in the future. Those who struggle with the concept of passing time should try to visualize the positive and rewarding benefits of aging, rather than agonize about the inescapable. Anyways, my AARP days are still far, far away. 

For Better or For Worse...?

Is honesty always the best policy? I must answer this question myself before I judge the questionable actions of Harmon Coulson. This licentious character dances with the limits of immorality within Elizabeth Strout's Pulitzer Prize winning novel Olive Kitteridge. Contrary to her own lasting marriage, the author narrates Coulson's struggle to stay loyal to his wife Bonnie. Published in 2008, a time in which divorce rates approached 5%, Harmon's affair with Daisy Foster pushes him closer to becoming part of that statistic. Many years of marriage and three sons later, Strout reveals "Bonnie made [Harmon] feel cold" (98). Coulson's direct characterization as "cold" juxtaposes his generally kind and compassionate demeanor. Bonnie's ability to negatively transform his personality so dramatically mitigates my disapproval towards her husband's affair with Foster. Likewise, Bonnie's indirect characterization as harsh only intensifies my empathy for her husband's display of affection for another woman. This affection eventually blossoms into something more, as Harmon confesses to Daisy, "I've fallen in love with you" (102). At first, I distinguished Harmon and Daisy's affair as nothing more than that, but the married man's deep feelings suggest otherwise. The pathos evoked by his adoration sparks sympathy from those, myself included, who originally viewed the relationship between the two lovers as promiscuous and dishonest. Nonetheless, the passion exchanged between Foster and Coulson only suggests true love, which crushes a small amount of contempt for their sneaky Sunday shenanigans. In addition to the unpredictable path of his emotion's, Harmon's adultery stems from his fear of "being without love:" the unfortunate consequence of his current marriage (94). I do not applaud Coulson's infidelity, but the absence of love within his marriage presents a dangerous yet understanding mid-life crisis. Harmon serves as a synecdoche for those who must choose between practicality and emotion: a decision with consequences on both sides. Trapped by the vows to stay together "through sickness and through health," Coulson chooses unfaithfulness to avoid the wrath of his wife. I do not tolerate this dishonesty, and I pity Bonnie's ignorance towards her husband's behavior. However, what Harmon feels for both his wife and Daisy represents no "right" or "wrong" judgement, but rather the dilemma of a severely confused man. Also a sufferer from this strained marriage, Bonnie's complaint that her husband's negativity "[is] driving me nuts" underscores Strout's claim that couple endure's constant tension (91). The situational irony created by Bonnie's own constant pessimism indirectly characterizes her as hypocritical, further illustrating her as a pain to live with. I do not laud deceit, but Harmon's love for "the other woman" does not surprise me. Although his bold and secretive actions confuse me due to his kindness, they offer the only solution to a fulfilling life. Harmon's breaking of his marital vows? Wrong. His desire to live a life with love? Understanding. Maybe even right.