by Elizabeth Strout
“God, Olive, you’re a difficult woman. You are such a goddamn difficult woman, and fuck all, I love you. So if you don’t mind, Olive, maybe you could be a little less Olive with me, even if it means being a little more Olive with others. Because I love you, and we don’t have much time.”
Like her second husband, Jack Kennison, I don’t always like Olive. But by the end of this book I certainly love her. Not many authors have the talent to make you fall in love over 200 pages, especially with a difficult woman.
I ashamedly admit I actually read this without knowing it was a sequel. I did think it interesting how Strout writes as though we already knew Olive and her history! But it’s testament to Strout – Olive, Again stands alone as a novel in itself, and I’m looking forward to going backwards with Olive Kitteridge, learning about how her younger years that toughened her.
Olive, Again is structured as a number of short stories that are blended together, with the inimitable Olive Kitteridge acting as the thread that weaves through them. I wanted to read more about the characters Strout created – the snapshots into small moments of their lives were so touching, especially the chapters ‘Helped’ and ‘Light’.
The book tackles many of the dark parts of the human condition – domestic abuse, arson, suicide, sexual assault. Each described in such a matter of fact way the portrait of Crosby, Maine seems a bleak one at times. But the magnetism of the book lies in her ability to write relationships in all their nuance and mundanity.
Many of her characters are prejudiced in some way, but rather than returning that prejudice Strout explores their histories – she helps us try to understand them. Offering empathy perhaps to those that lack it.
It’s not a thrilling read, but it’s a provoking one. Strout is an astute recorder of life in all its little glories and ugly injustices.
thebookround 