Olive Kitteridge

“Or maybe, he thought, returning to the boxes, it was part of being Catholic—you were made to feel guilty about everything.”

After Denise Thibodeau comes to work in Henry’s pharmacy, she tells Henry that she had been in a relationship with a man before her husband, but she admits that it would not have worked out because the man was a Protestant. Henry has already had arguments with Olive, his wife, over whether she will accompany him to church. When Henry looks at Denise, in contrast, he sees a kindly—if plain and boring—young girl who takes her religion seriously.

“‘Oh, sure,’ she said comfortably. ‘What else is there to do?’”

Sitting in the car with Kevin Coulson, Olive touches on the nature of the small town in which they live, nodding toward the theme of The Necessity of Human Connection. The lives of everyone in the small town of Crosby are inextricably interwoven; without much to do in the town, the inhabitants entertain themselves by making sure that they are aware of every detail of every person’s life. Kevin, returning to the town from New York City after many years away, seems to have forgotten this aspect of the town. Given Kevin’s reason for returning home is to take his own life, which stems from his sense that he doesn’t “fit” anywhere, this aspect of Crosby is somewhat ironic.

“Look how she wanted to live, look how she wanted to hold on.”

Kevin returned to Crosby with the aim of killing himself near his childhood house. As he sits in his car watching the harbor and talking to Olive Kitteridge, however, the power of human connection begins to elicit doubts. The frankness with which Olive has discussed her own father’s death by suicide (so much like that of his mother) and her son’s depression have an effect on Kevin. When Patty Howe falls into the water, and Kevin dives in to save her, he is struck powerfully by Patty’s own urge to live despite the odds.

“The church had given her mother a key, and these days Angie could still go there anytime and play the piano.”

For Angie, the act of playing the piano is a means of escape. When she slips into the music, she is free from her pressing thoughts. She uses alcohol to aid this effort, as it helps overcome her stage fright, though lately she has found the drinking to be a less reliable means of escaping. The above quotation suggests the tie for Angie between the piano and the divine.

“A face like an angel. A drunk. Her mother sold herself to men. Never married, Angela? But sitting on the stairwell, she told herself that she was no more, no less, pathetic than any of them.”

In the closing lines of the chapter, despite Angie’s harsh assessment of herself, her perspective lends to a reality in which she can mentally survive. How Perspective Shapes Reality is relevant here. Angie’s perception of others—as equally pathetic to her and, sometimes, as kind—grants her a version of reality in which she can exist without sacrificing all of her ego.

“What does Suzanne know about a heart that aches so badly at times that a few months ago it almost gave out, gave up altogether? It is true she doesn’t exercise, her cholesterol is sky-high. But all that is only a good excuse, hiding how it’s her soul, really, that is wearing out.”

Olive Kitteridge tries to voice why, exactly, her son’s wife has hurt her so deeply. It’s not Suzanne’s insult of Olive’s dress that has caused this pain, although that has contributed. Even Suzanne’s assessment that Christopher’s childhood was difficult, though a dangerous challenge to Olive’s perception of reality, is not quite the exact problem. More so, the issue is that Suzanne seems so confident she knows Christopher—that is, Suzanne’s assumption, in Olive’s eyes, that Suzanne knows everything. Suzanne, at the very least, knows nothing of Olive’s emotional turmoil; while Suzanne might know Olive’s father died by suicide, even that Christopher has contemplated suicide himself, Suzanne does not actually know what that feels like.

“As a matter of fact, there is no reason, if Dr. Sue is going to live near Olive, that Olive can’t occasionally take a little of this, a little of that—just to keep the self-doubt alive.”

The satisfaction that Olive derives from marking up Suzanne’s sweater and stealing a few random items of clothing stems from Olive’s frustration with Suzanne’s confidence. The world, Olive knows from firsthand experience, is not trustworthy; it is brutal and unpredictable. It is best, Olive thinks to herself, to be sure her son’s new wife knows as much. Olive’s own certainty here is rooted in How Reality Shapes Perception, as at this point, Olive is unable to tolerate any measure of challenge to her own reality.

“For she knew this was his sadness: His four sons had grown and scattered.”

Harmon’s relationship with his wife, Bonnie, is disintegrating. As their children have grown up, left the house, and moved away, the two have steadily grown apart. Daisy Foster, in contrast, is aware of Harmon’s “great sadness,” enough that she asks him about his sons immediately after asking him how he is.

“Some skin that had stood between himself and the world seemed to have been ripped away, and everything was close, and frightening.”

Here, Harmon feels “a rush of anxiety” (102) as Bessie Davis, an elderly unmarried woman, walks away after their brief chat. Still grieving Nina’s death, Harmon experiences a sudden comprehension of his own mortality, and in conjunction, he is overcome by The Necessity of Human Connection.

“Always nice to hear other people’s problems.”

Olive Kitteridge appears in every story in the novel. She is a constant figure who inserts herself into the lives of others, though her presence is rarely malicious; more often, she is trying to help, in her blunt way. In this moment, after a dinner over which the Kitteridges and Newtons shared their respective troubles, both Olive and Bunny Newton, her friend, agree that schadenfreude brings some relief.

“No, they would never get over that night because they had said things that altered how they saw each other. And because she had, ever since then, been weeping from a private faucet inside her, unable to keep her thoughts from the red-haired boy with his blemished, frightened face.”

Olive’s reflection here refers to the hostage event in the bathroom of the hospital, which forever changes Olive and Henry’s relationship. There are two reasons why night’s impact has been so indelible. The first is that Henry and Olive, for the first time, truly challenged their respective realities, forcing one another to grasp just how divergent their perspectives of the world really are. The second is that Olive cannot find the end to her empathy for the boy who held them hostage. At some level, the boy is an echo of Christopher, Olive’s son who, in her mind, has abandoned her for California despite her love for him.

“No one had been hurt, but it made Bob Houlton shudder; he had an image of sitting in the plush red seats, he and Jane, and the roof falling in, the two of them suffocating, their life together ending in that horrible way.”

Bob Houlton’s mental image becomes something of a prophecy in a metaphorical sense. The opening of the chapter indicates a strong human connection between the Houltons—a solid structure on a strong foundation. However, Bob’s past betrayal is a destabilizing force. The marriage in which they worship one another may indeed be a collapsed structure in which they suffocate together.

“She wanted to say their hearts were too old for this now; you can’t keep doing this to a heart, can’t keep on expecting your heart to pull through.”

Throughout the novel, physical heart health often represents the status of characters’ mental health and sense of connection to others. In that light, the fact that both Bob and Jane Houlton have had heart attacks in the last year serves as subtle foreshadowing of Bob’s admission of his latest infidelity. Here, Jane advances that metaphor: just like the physical body, the soul can only endure so much.

“She didn’t like to be alone. Even more, she didn’t like being with people.”

Part of Olive’s struggle is between her desire to sustain her own perceived reality and The Necessity of Human Connection. Here, Olive reflects on this paradox. With her husband unresponsive because of a stroke and her son in California, she finds herself profoundly lonely. Though she is able, at times, to find ways to be around other people, merely being with a person is not the same as true human connection.

“Who in the world, this strange and incomprehensible world, did she [Olive] think she was? Olive turned onto her side, drew her knees up to her chest, turned on her transistor radio. She would have to decide soon whether or not to plant the tulips, before the ground was frozen.”

Olive is at a loss. After the combative meeting with Louise Larkin, she struggles to make sense of her life. Originally, she hoped to visit Louise in order to enjoy a fleeting sense of schadenfreude; Louise’s son committed a vicious murder—an event that broke up the Larkin family—and Olive hoped that her situation would not seem quite so bad in comparison. However, on sitting down with Louise, Olive faces instead an alarming image of herself.

“Olive rises from her chair. Time to leave; goodbyes aren’t necessary. No one will miss her.”

After a long day at the funeral of Marlene’s husband, Olive feels that it is time to leave; however, given the extent to which she feels isolated from other people, she does not feel it necessary to say goodbye. Though she is referring explicitly to the funeral and the guests, these lines hint at Olive’s deeper perception of reality. Henry no longer recognizes her and cannot react or process whether she is with him. Christopher is far away and only sporadically phones home. Neither of the two most important people in her life would notice if she was no longer present.

“An innocent, Olive thinks, gazing at this woman. A real one. You don’t find them anymore. Boy, you do not.”

Everyone in Crosby is familiar with Olive’s cantankerous nature and negative perception. Marlene, however, is different to Olive. There is a purity to Marlene that Olive appreciates—an innocence that separates Marlene from most of the people in Crosby. Olive feels compelled to share her stories with Marlene, even if she cannot quite bring herself to do it. For once, however, Olive has recognized the goodness in another person and has reacted positively to it.

“Winnie understood that something had changed for good, something more than Julie’s running away.”

Winnie Harwood is only 11 years old, but her relationship with her mother has suddenly changed forever. After her fiancée leaves her, Winnie’s older sister, Julie, has struggled to live at home; their mother, Anita, persistently tries to drag Julie out of her slump but lacks the tools to do so. Most days end with both Julie and Anita miserably passing out in a drug-induced sleep. Winnie is innocent and struggling to comprehend the disagreement between the two. When Julie runs away and leaves Winnie a note, it forces Winnie to make a choice. Does she choose to lie to her mother, as Julie advised, or does she reveal her sister’s plan and potentially ruin Julie’s life? Winnie chooses the former and must face the consequences of her actions. In this moment, Winnie is no longer innocent; she has made a choice and will have to live with the consequences forever.

“She would have sat on a patch of cement anywhere to have this—her son; a bright buoy bobbing in the bay of her own quiet terror.”

Olive has just met her son’s new wife, Ann, but Olive already finds the situation overwhelming. In every sense, she is out of her comfort zone. She has left Crosby, traveled on a plane, been taken from the airport into New York City, and met her son’s new wife and her newly acquired grandchildren. Sitting silently next to Christopher in the garden, she is able to find solace. Since her husband’s stroke, Olive has been essentially alone. Now, she is back with Christopher. As the above quotation suggests, she would happily do anything to spend time with her son.

“Olive put her sunglasses on, blinking. Everywhere she looked, people seemed removed and unfriendly. As she got closer, she didn’t understand—the line spread into one mass of people who all seemed to know what she didn’t—where to go, what to do.”

Olive’s disorientation and confusion as she tries to navigate the airport stems from and reflect her feelings after the fight with Christopher, her son. Christopher has just challenged Olive’s perspective, which has, in turn, undermined the stability of her reality.

“The minister doing the funeral was a friend of her father’s; they had gone to seminary together years ago, and watching him up there with his hand raised in blessing, Rebecca started thinking about things she could do to him under his robe, things he’d have to pray about later.”

As the daughter of a minister and a girl who has grown up in a perplexing and difficult domestic situation, Rebecca Brown struggles to navigate her physical desires with her code of morals. The two frequently overlap and interact; the notion of physically being with a minister poses a moral question—a challenge to Rebecca’s faith, which intermingles with her desire and compulsion to push back against her own moral code.

“You have the right to remain silent. You have the right—You have the right—You have the right. It would be worth the arrest if they put it like that.”

At nights, when she cannot sleep, Rebecca watches over the bar beneath her home; this particular night, as a man is arrested, she overhears a police officer stating the man’s Miranda rights. For Rebecca, who has long struggled to control her urge to talk too much, stemming from her father’s oppressive parenting, finds the words inspiring.

“They both needed someone to talk to, someone to listen, and they did that.”

Olive has lost her husband—first to a stroke and then to death—and she has no one with whom she can talk about these matters. Her son is far away, and their relationship is brittle and fractious. Her friends (at least in so far as Olive has friends) are people she considers foolish or unworthy of her time. She has tried support groups and hobbies, but nothing has helped fill the void—until she meets Jack Kennison. Jack’s wife died in the previous five months, and his relationship with his daughter is even more broken than Olive’s relationship with her son. They are two people approaching the ends of their lives and struggling to come to terms with suddenly being alone.