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I missed this Pulitzer Prize winning novel the first time around and after watching the first 15 minutes of the new HBO mini-series I know I had to read the book. Reading a book whilst simultaneously watching the television show has its own challenges but for the most part I managed to read behind watching […]

Here is your first glimpse of the HBO miniseries Olive Kitteridge based on the Pulitzer Prize winning novel by Elizabeth Strout. It looks stark, it looks honest, it looks raw and it looks beautiful. I love the tag line at the end of the trailer, “There’s no such thing as a simple life.” I think that just evokes such a heartfelt and honest sentiment. Isn’t that what we learn from superb novels? Isn’t that what we hope to see in great literature? I can’t wait to watch this miniseries (which airs on November 2nd and 3rd). I think I am going to read the book in anticipation for the movie.

SUMMARY:

At times stern, at other times patient, at times perceptive, at other times in sad denial, Olive Kitteridge, a retired schoolteacher, deplores the changes in her little town of Crosby, Maine, and in the world at large, but she doesn’t always recognize the changes in those around her: a lounge musician haunted by a past romance; a former student who has lost the will to live; Olive’s own adult child, who feels tyrannized by her irrational sensitivities; and her husband, Henry, who finds his loyalty to his marriage both a blessing and a curse. 

As the townspeople grapple with their problems, mild and dire, Olive is brought to a deeper understanding of herself and her life–sometimes painfully, but always with ruthless honesty. Olive Kitteridge offers profound insights into the human condition–its conflicts, its tragedies and joys, and the endurance it requires.

The fabulous Holly Cupala of Brimstone Soup tagged me on this meme, and since I was musing just yesterday about bookshelves and friendships, it seems an appropriate Sunday launch. The question is, What's on your bookshelf?, and the specifics are these:

Tell me about the book that has been on your shelf the longest...

A beaten, brown thesaurus (the pages unbound now and out of order) and the bible my mother gave me. In fact, however, most all of my books have been acquired during the last 20 years. I was not a bookish kid (I was a writerly one, not a bookish one, which is truly not the right order of things) and did not come from a bookish family, which is not to say that I did not come from an educated one. It's simply that the home that I grew up in was not furnitured with books.

Tell me about a book that reminds you of something specific in your life ...

Natalie Kusz's Road Song was the first memoir I ever bought—the first I ever read. I was pregnant with my son. I was in a Princeton bookstore. The book was revelatory (you can write about your life? like this?) and I wrote to Ms. Kusz, never expecting a response. A few weeks later, one came. "As I am sure you know (because, judging from the elegance and insightfulness of your letter, you must be a writer yourself), writers are in the business of attempting to expose the human condition in such a way that our description resonates in the souls of other humans ... " A writer myself? Not then. Just someone who loved the sound of words, their puzzling together. By announcing to me a new genre—memoir—and by suggesting to me a possibility—an actual writer—Ms. Kusz and Road Song changed my life.

Tell me about a book you acquired in some interesting way ...

This past Friday six books arrived in a brown box, chosen by an editor with whom I've lately had the privilege of corresponding. I had mentioned that I sought, in my life, books that "put faith in the reader." She responded with generosity and with a telling eye and ear. Every one of these six books appears to be my kind of book. You'll be hearing about them here, over time.

Tell me about the most recent addition to your shelves...

Since the books in that box aren't yet on my shelves (but on the coffee table, where I will leave them until they are read), the newest books were three: Book of Clouds, The Frozen Thames, and The Cradle. I've written of them all here. Book of Clouds also, in its way, changed my life, my way of seeing what is possible in story.

Tell me about a book that has been with you to the most places...

Michael Ondaatje's The English Patient. I've read it several times, in several places—in El Salvador while visiting my husband's family, in Orlando while helping to oversee a corporate launch conference, on the train to New York City.

Tell me about a bonus book that doesn't fit any of the above questions...

Two books that I felt strongly should win the Pulitzer Prize did, and they sit eloquently on my shelves: March by Geraldine Brooks and Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout. There were shouts of joy here when both were announced. Both winners aren't just enormously talented writers. They are gracious people, which counts just as much.

I suppose I was half correct with my Pulitzer guess on Friday.... Updike didn't win but one of the outsiders did. 

Elizabeth Strout's collection of 13 tales about a retired schoolteacher named Olive Kitteridge has taken top spot as the Pulitzer Prize winner in the fiction category. 

Also nominated in the category were The Plague of Doves by Louise Erdrich and All Souls by Christine Schutt.

Elizabeth Strout in person is just as interesting, complex, and ultimately original as her own Olive Kitteridge. I liked her at once, and very much.

She read from "Security." She spoke of the ways that writing involves one's whole heart, also one's liver. She said that every sentence counts, and also: There is no room for sogginess. You put down your coffee cup when you write, she said. You step past and through.

Oh, Libby, I said to my friend afterward. She makes me want to write an entirely different kind of book. Makes me want to write. Again.

I should have had my fill of books by now. I should have. I have not.

I was not prepared for the power of Elizabeth Strout's extraordinary novel-in-stories, Olive Kitteridge. I'd read Abide with Me in total and Amy and Isabelle in pieces, and while both of those earlier Strout books are well-made, they aren't nearly as inhabited as Kitteridge, which brings to forceful life a retired schoolteacher who has not made it her business to please. Olive Kitteridge has been herself—her hands the size of a man's, her height unnatural for a woman, her bulk an unapologetic presence. She is frequently disappointed in others. She's not in the habit of honest self reflection. Her husband, Henry, was the good one, the kind soul. She was the undeterred realist.

Novels in stories often don't work—can feel like grab-bag constructions, a publisher's label applied to loosely related themes. This one does. In stories that don't seem to be much about Olive (they are about neighbors, rather, about a piano player or illicit lovers or a young anorexic), she is revealed, and in this lies suspense (one feels her on the horizon, one awaits her knock on the door). In stories in which Olive claims every page, she is transfixing, appalling, somehow sympathetic. She is the shadow and light, wholly given up and over.

Strout's writing here is superb, by which I mean not just her style, but what she has to say about the messy gist of things. I share with you this:

... She knows that loneliness can kill people—in different ways can actually make you die. Olive's private view is that life depends on what she thinks of as "big bursts" and "little bursts." Big bursts are things like marriage or children, intimacies that keep you afloat, but these big bursts hold dangerous, unseen currents. Which is why you need the little bursts as well: a friendly clerk at Bradlee's, let's say, or the waitress at Dunkin' Donuts who knows how you like your coffee. Tricky business, really.