Insightful Olive

            Books offer readers a unique opportunity to see inside someone else’s head and live a different life, unveiling insights one may have never considered. Such is the case in the novel Olive Kitteridge by award-winning author Elizabeth Strout. Strout tells the chronicle of Olive Kitteridge through thirteen short stories focusing on various residents of Crosby, Maine as well as Olive herself at varying ages. The tales focusing on the Kitteridges at an older age especially resonated with me and taught me valuable lessons. After losing both of my grandmothers, I had never taken the time to truly comprehend their passing’s effect on my grandfathers, only how it impacted me. Through Strout’s depiction of Olive losing her husband, Henry, I began to genuinely understand and sympathize with my grandpas. For instance, after Olive’s friend and widower, Jack Kennison, declares that his wife had recently passed away, Olive states “Then, you’re in hell,” (55). Her short syntax and simple statement evokes pathos, generating empathy from those who have lost a loved one. Personally, Olive’s facile declaration allowed me to understand what my grandfathers have to deal with on a daily basis: a living hell. Moreover, Olive noted how young people do not understand that “aged… bodies were as needy as theirs,” (270). Through this simile, Strout asserts that humans, especially the youth, tend to forget that all people stand as equal and have the same needs, regardless of age; we all want to love and be loved. Admittedly, I have forgotten this more than once, but Olive’s cogitation combined with the portrayal of her loneliness allowed me to understand how important a thought it is. Throughout the novel, I would think back to the times where I would not stay home for a family dinner with one of grandfathers because I had plans to hang out with my friends and felt immense guilt. I used to treat outings with my friends as more important, despite seeing them every day, but Olive taught me to treat those you love equally as just that: equals. I believe Strout writes to people like me who did not take time to fully understand the struggles of aging in order to illustrate how much the elderly value companionship and that one should cherish each moment spent with loved ones.

Olives Have Layers

                Elizabeth Strout, a New York Times bestselling author, combines thirteen short stories about the residents of Crosby, Maine in order to tell the complex story of the title character in her 2008 novel, Olive Kitteridge. Written in modern-day America, where many have questioned if society has become progressively crueler, Strout depicts the growth of Olive Kitteridge and her struggle to overcome her husband’s stroke. Although I sympathize with Olive, her attitude in the first half of the novel appalled me. For instance, prior to his stroke, Henry solemnly noted how Olive has “’never once apologized. For anything,’” (123). Henry acts as a synecdoche of those who have experienced Olive’s cold personality and his defeated tone, implied through his short syntax, illustrates how frustrated Olive can make people, including her own husband. Strout evokes pathos by having Olive discourage Henry, who people repeatedly call a “’nice man;’” readers, including myself, who sympathize with kind, innocent men like Henry feel shocked by Olive’s harsh treatment of him (149). She mistreats various other characters throughout the novel’s first half; ergo, I did not feel particularly fond of Olive, despite my extreme compassion for her struggles. However, as the novel progressed, and especially after Henry’s stroke, Olive learned to contain her adverse thoughts, and I began to enjoy her character more. Olive even volunteers to help at a funeral because she knows Henry would have wanted to if he had the ability. At the event, she offers “’Put me to work, Molly’” (167). The novelist’s overall juxtaposition of Olive’s bossy past-self and her helpful, submissive self illustrates her attitude shift. Although Olive did not become an instant saint and still had negative thoughts, her efforts to act outwardly kind impressed me. My sympathy for her remained constant throughout the novel, but my overall opinion of Olive became progressively more positive as she began to internalize her criticism and assist others. I advise those who dislike Olive to acknowledge her difficult life and appreciate her efforts to become kindhearted. Furthermore, I encourage those who found themselves relating to Olive’s actions in the novel’s first half to mirror her attempt to increase her compassion.

Powerful Parallels

            Elizabeth Strout tells the story of Olive and Henry Kitteridge through delicately woven chapters, each resembling a short story, in her 2008 novel, Olive Kitteridge. Written in modern-day America where over 40% of marriages end in divorce or separation, the small tales mostly feature various relationships in the shared the setting of Portland, Maine, a small-town similar to the one Strout grew up in. The novelist’s reoccurring parallels between the various chapters appeal to me due to their unique way of both telling and showing Strout’s assertions. For instance, in “The Piano Player,” Angie O’Meara receives a visit from her vindictive ex-boyfriend, Simon. After Simon degrades Angie in order to compensate for his lost dreams, Angie describes his actions as “thin milk” (58). By comparing Simon’s actions to nutritionally insufficient thin milk, the author asserts that people rarely gain genuine salvation through vengeful actions. Rather, one achieves a temporary satisfaction that fails to eradicate the true source of their dismay. In the next narrative, the first of Olive’s own stories entitled “A little Burst,” Strout reverses her narrative position and illustrates the assaulting perspective through Olive. After her son Christopher’s wedding, Olive overhears her new daughter-in-law, Suzanne, criticizing her mother-in-law’s dress and the already agitated Olive reacts strongly. Olive resolves to steal a few of Suzanne’s clothing items and draw a black streak on Suzanne’s sweater; when looking back of her actions, Olive reckons “It does not help much,” (73). Strout juxtaposes the two chapters in order to demonstrate that neither side benefits from spiteful reactions, and the repetition of this idea emphasizes the assertion’s prominence. Furthermore, Strout anticipates the possible judgments of readers and, thus, positions Simon’s outburst prior to Olive’s in order to prevent overzealous criticisms of Olive as almost all of society has had a vengeful impulse. Although I believe these kneejerk reactions often prove unpreventable, I encourage excessively hostile readers to recognize the uselessness of their actions. Moreover, I advise victims to acknowledge instances where they have done the victimizing and understand the trivial nature of their assailant’s actions.

So It Goes

            What will the world’s end bring? Humans have pondered this colossal question since the beginning of time and Kurt Vonnegut chooses to tackle the ambitious topic in his 1963 novel, Cat’s Cradle. Vonnegut, who fought in World War II and experienced the massive bombing of Dresden, creates an apocalyptic tale on the island of San Lorenzo. The novel, which received publication during the Cold War, ends in a slightly open-ended fashion and, as a fan of ambiguous finales, I enjoyed Vonnegut’s culmination. Towards the end of the novel, the narrator, John, finds what he feels stands as his life purpose: to climb San Lorenzo’s largest mountain, Mount McCabe. Although John knows he must climb the mountain, he does not know what to bring with him. At one point, the protagonist cries out “’what… would the right symbol be?’” in distress (285). John’s struggle to find a symbol acts as a synecdoche of man’s quest for the meaning of life, and his lost hope parallels the lost faith in humanity the religious leader, Bokonon, felt at the world’s nadir. However, unlike the pursuit of life’s purpose, John eventually finds his answer. Vonnegut closes the novel with the final thoughts of Bokonon who expresses his desire to climb Mount McCabe and make a stature of himself “thumbing my nose at You Know Who” (287). The scholar’s purposeful omission of the word “God” illustrates his indignation and sneering view of the deity; Bokonon’s ideal final act serves to mock God and his creation of mankind, his supposed most prized design. I enjoyed Vonnegut’s choice as it asserts that humans often reveal their true values in times of crisis and panic. Thus, the last quote reveals how Bokonon stands as just another ordinary man. This idea reflects the central theme that nothing has meaning until humans construct it, as the citizens of San Lorenzo did with Bokonon. Moreover, I commend the novelist for his vague ending. Vonnegut’s deliberate lack of closure reflects his consistent claim regarding the insignificance of the human race.  I admire the author’s denouement as it accurately reflects human tendencies during catastrophes and depicts a similar view to my own in regards to the reaction to the end of the world. After reading Vonnegut’s ending, I advocate those stressing over their purpose in life to accept that the truth will never reveal itself. Although I want to also advise humans to learn from Vonnegut’s portrayal, what can we really learn? No one can anticipate how the world will end and, even if one could, would it really matter?

Suitable Satire

              In the 1963 novel, Cat’s Cradle, by the veteran-turned-novelist, Kurt Vonnegut, the writer discusses issues such as religion, the meaning of life and politics through the eyes of the protagonist, John. Published in the midst of the Cold War, the book emphasizes John’s quest to discover more about the fictional, father of the atom bomb, Frank Hoenikker, and his family. The narrator’s research leads him to the small, poverty-stricken country of San Lorenzo where Vonnegut continues his sarcastic and satiric examination of society. As I have often received criticism for acting overly sarcastic, the novelist’s cunning tone, especially in regards to the Hundred Martyrs to Democracy, appeals to me. I believe Vonnegut’s satire holds a mirror up to humanity and his particular mockery of the Hundred Martyrs of Democracy illustrates his views on military enterprises and heroism. When John arrives on San Lorenzo with Newt and Angela Hoenikker, the President, “Papa” Monzano, informs the group that they arrived the day before San Lorenzo’s “greatest national holiday,” (142). While most people consider a religious holiday their most important, the adulating diction of “greatest” illustrates how much importance the Hundred Martyrs to Democracy Day has to the citizens of San Lorenzo. However, as Vonnegut reveals more about the holiday, this exaltation begins to hold situational irony. After the bombing of Pearl Harbor, San Lorenzo sent a “hundred men” to the United States for training and “to fight… [for] democracy” (149). Before their arrival, the ship sunk and, since then, the country has celebrated their efforts on the anniversary of the martyrs’ deaths. By stating that San Lorenzo sent a “hundred men,” Vonnegut’s data exposes how little of an impact the untrained, unarmed, conscripted soldiers would have had in the scale of World War II. Moreover, the entire idea of San Lorenzo sending men to fight for democracy stands as ludicrous because the country only claims to have democratic values when truly it acts more like a dictatorship. Vonnegut slowly exposes the illegitimate roots of the “greatest national holiday” in order to utilize the illogical holiday as a synecdoche of the hope humans construct out of foolish events, alluding to the central idea of a cat’s cradle and its unreasonable meaning. The novelist’s ironic anecdote and satirical style exposes his critical views on military endeavors by pointing out the futility and inevitable wastefulness of military effort. Although I do believe war can prove necessary and constructive, I agree with Vonnegut in that many military efforts stand as unnecessary and counterproductive. I advise those offended by Vonnegut’s black humor to allow themselves to acknowledge their own faults and the faults of modern society as many of his convictions stand as true.

Vonnegut's Views on the Realm of Religion

        In Kurt Vonnegut’s 1963 novel, Cat’s Cradle, which he published in the wake of the Cuban missile crisis, the novelist discusses multiple issues such as the effects of advanced science on the world and the eternal subject of religion. Vonnegut, a self-proclaimed Humanist, takes a satirical approach to the unwavering religious devotion of the narrator, John, to the denomination of Bokononism. As an agnostic, I agree with many of the writer’s views on faith. For instance, when first introducing Bokononism, John cites the opening sentence of The Book of Bokonon: “’all the true things… are shameless lies’” (5). The contradictory juxtaposition of “’true’” and “’lies’” illustrates the bold nature of Bokonon. This boldness, along with the brazen diction of “’shameless,’” creates an interesting contrast of Bokonon to other deities.  Unlike other divine beings that leave their beliefs to faith, Vonnegut purposefully devises a god to foil this. I admire Vonnegut’s choice as I feel it allows readers the unique opportunity to question their own beliefs—does it really matter if the Bible, Koran etc. exist as the truth or not? I contend that fallacies play essential roles in our lives; fictional novels have inspired me countless times and have even changed my life, yet these books technically remain as untrue. Moreover, I defend Vonnegut’s views on the socialization of religion. One specific encounter John has with Hazel Crosby parallels this. After discovering their shared Alma mater, Crosby because instantaneously fervent and demands John to refer to her as mom. John then wonders about the “seeming team that was meaningless… a granfalloon,” (91). Although I do not feel that close-knit religious communities reside as “meaningless” in the slightest, I do feel that, considering the opposing views within religious denominations, one cannot have an intense connection with someone just based on a worldwide religion. Also, Vonnegut’s use of incomprehensible diction such as “granfallon” reflects another criticism Vonnegut and I share: religion has become over-complex and intricate. Vonnegut asserts through his cynical tone that religion has become worn and often remains as merely a social gathering, both of these take away from the essential values religions advocate. I contend with many of Vonnegut’s opinions, but not always to the same extent. I advocate that those offended by Vonnegut’s ideals use their indignation to strengthen their own faith. In contrast, those who, like me, often agree with the novelist, do so in a less belligerent fashion than Vonnegut.

A Birthday For Larry

                In the novel Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter the author, Tom Franklin, communicates the interknit lives of Larry Ott and Silas Jones as both children and adults.  The novelist discusses a variety of controversies such as intolerance and racism that seem to follow the protagonists everywhere they go. The book rotates between the boys’ lives as adolescents in the “peaceful” 1970s and their adult stories twenty-five years later. I constantly found myself sympathizing and relating to child and adult Larry; thus, I would jump at the opportunity to present him with two gifts. At the end of the novel, Franklin does not fully reveal how Larry’s story ends and if he can ever fully escape his reputation. The novelist simply narrates Larry’s thoughts of the future and overcoming his alienation: “wondering…if it was really over” (267). Franklin evokes pathos from empathetic readers who have compassion for Larry and want the best for him. As I stand as one of these readers, I would love the opportunity to give Larry the gift of a surprise party. Since his surrounding deprived him of twenty-five years of his life, having the ability to provide him with a normal experience that many people take for granted would bring me extreme joy. Also, the party would allow me to find out if the town of Chabot ever truly overcomes their past unreasonable judgments of Larry. Furthermore, I would like to provide him with a dog for a companion. While reflecting on his past two friendships, Larry feels he “was wrong about the word friend” (236). Through his use of italics, Franklin asserts that after receiving betrayal after betrayal, one becomes skeptical of companions and their worth. I hope that following the novel, Larry learns to regain his trust in people and true friendships; however, in the meantime, I believe a dog would ameliorate his severely lonely life and help protect him from any possible skeptics as well. I constantly empathized with Larry’s feelings of solitude and, consequently, hope to improve his social skills and relationships through my gifts. The author ends the novel with a hopeful tone towards Larry’s future in order to provide those ostracized on false assumptions a sense of hope. I agree with Franklin’s contention and hope my gifts would assist Larry with fulfilling his expectations for the future.