Olive Kitteridge

Olive Kitteridge, written by Elizabeth Strout, was a book that my "book club" recently picked to read. And while I have never been fond of "linked stories" (ie: short stories) I thought I would give this one a fair shot. And I hated it. I hated every single word of this book. I was frustrated that the characters flitted in and out of my life so easily. I wanted to stop reading the book. I put it down time and time again, but something made me pick it up again. And in the end, I was very glad I did. While I didn't ever really like the book, I did become fond of the main character, Olive Kitteridge.

Olive Kitteridge was a grumpy old woman, to put it mildly. She had a short temper and never offered a kind word to anyone - not even her husband or son. But as the stories progressed, you learn that Olive doesn't really like herself much. And while she knows she isn't perfect, you recognise that she can't seem to help herself. You recognise her humanity. And it is her humanity that makes you fall for the character, not her do-gooder personality like in so many other novels.

This book was the first book in recent months that has made me think. And maybe it wasn't the book itself, but the timing of the book with other events in my life. The pure humanity of people has been a recent theme in these past few weeks. Whether it be crazy landlords, disapproving doctors, lying exes, or supportive friends; we all have a bit of something in us that makes us imperfect - or in some cases, perfect. None of us are all or nothing of one or the other. We are all a little bit of both. And it is seeing both in someone that brings us closer together as friends, partners, family, etc. It is only after we have been seen, for what and who we are, that we can start being better humans. That we can give ourselves the freedom to reach out and try, knowing that even if we fail, that there is someone there ready to pick us up again. . .because we are all both perfect and imperfect at the same time.