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57 pages 1 hour read

Elizabeth Strout

Olive Kitteridge

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2008

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Chapters 7-9Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Chapter 7 Summary: “Winter Concert”

Bob and Jane Houlton, an elderly married couple, drive to a concert. As they approach the church, Jane remembers moments from their life together. Bob feels a sense of foreboding. He parks the car and helps Jane out of the car; the couple are in their mid-seventies, and both had minor heart attacks in the last year. On the way into the church, they spot the “Lydias” (actually Alan and Donna Granger), whose daughter Lydia had been friends with the Houltons’ daughter.

Jane, who fears dying in public, and Bob, whose “bowels weren’t what they used to be” (128), hurry to find seats near the back. They exchange memories of Lydia Granger, who had an abortion in high school. Olive Kitteridge enters the concert venue with her husband; Jane used to be the school nurse during the same time Olive was the math teacher. The orchestra warms up, and the concert starts. Bob falls asleep during Debussy, which Jane finds endearing, reflecting on how it is “a gift to be able to know someone for so many years” (131).

During the intermission, Bob and Jane meet Alan and Donna and exchange updates about their children. When Alan says he will never retire, Jane realizes that is because he does not want to be home all day with his wife. Donna mentions her surprise at having met Bob in the Miami airport a few years prior. Jane does not recollect Bob ever mentioning this meeting, but the subject quickly changes. The conversation ends, and the couple returns to their seats. Jane watches people pass; she asks Bob about Miami, but he is dismissive, and the music starts again. When Jane starts to find the music overwhelming, however, they leave.

On the ride home, Jane feels “some knowledge pass between them” (134). After sitting in silence, she announces that she hates Donna Granger and asks Bob again about the airport. She asks for the truth. Bob does not respond. Jane feels sick, “that particular, familiar pain” (136). Eventually, Bob reveals that he went to visit his former mistress, who was sick with breast cancer. He spent the night with her and—aside from one phone call shortly after—has not talked to her since. Bob pleads with Jane, insisting that he loves her.

They enter the house, and Jane sits on the couch unmoving, reluctant to even take off her coat. Finally, she admits that she is scared that “one day we’re going to die” (138). They sit together for a long time in silence. Jane notices that Bob has fallen asleep. He wakes up with a start, and Jane asks him what he was dreaming. Bob replies that he dreamed the roof of the concert hall had collapsed. She comforts him, reminding him that they have each other.

Chapter 8 Summary: “Tulips”

The Larkin family mysteriously retreats from public view. Louise Larkin undergoes electroshock treatment, and the couple leaves their house only at night; Henry Kitteridge sometimes catches them driving away. In this way, the Larkins’s abandoned house becomes “one more hillock in the dramatic rise and fall of the coastal landscape” (141).

Olive Kitteridge is lonely, her son, Christopher, having moved to California with his bossy wife, Suzanne. Olive’s husband, Henry, now retired and struggling to fill his days, takes a woodworking class. Driving home, they regularly pass the empty Larkin house. As they begin to find their feet, Christopher phones to announce that he is getting divorced but will stay in California; the news that Chris will not come home causes Henry to sink into a deep depression. Henry and Olive develop an interest in the Civil War, diving into their genealogy to as if “to prove the strength of this geographical pull on their only offspring” (144-45).

Christopher forbids his parents from visiting as it “isn’t a good time” (145). Olive struggles to know what to do with herself. While Henry begins to shop and cook, Olive plants tulip bulbs. However, one day, as they go shopping together, Henry has a stroke in the parking lot.

The tulips bloom “in ridiculous splendor” (146). Henry is moved into a nursing home; he is blind, unresponsive, and in a wheelchair. Nonetheless, he is “always smiling” (147). Olive visits twice a day. Christopher pays a visit but fails to stay a whole week, and Olive finds that her life seems “emptier than ever” (148).

Olive struggles to balance her dislike of loneliness with her dislike of people. She visits Daisy Foster but leaves before finishing her tea. The mail arrives, all addressed to Henry, and Olive struggles to figure out how to pay the bills. The tulips die when fall arrives. One morning, Olive receives a letter from Louise Larkin and, on inspection, sees “the faintest strip of light” (150) from inside the abandoned Larkin house while she drives past.

Olive tells Christopher about the note, but he shows no interest. At her kitchen table after, Olive thinks that “she could, anytime she needed to, kill herself” (150). Though this isn’t the first time she has had the thought, this time, she thinks how she would leave no note. Certain she must leave the house, she heads to visit Louise Larkin.

Louise greets Olive, and as she ushers her into the dark home, Olive notices Louise’s striking beauty. Though the Larkins had been the richest family in town, the house is rundown now, albeit clean. Roger lives upstairs while Louise lives downstairs, Louise explains, noting that “Roger is not a nice man” (152), unlike Henry or Christopher. Louise talks about her son, Doyle, the “sweetest man alive” (153); Olive is aware, however, that Doyle murdered a woman by stabbing her 29 times, which led to the Larkins sealing themselves off from the world. Louise bluntly suggests that Olive must be considering suicide, which Louise admits “would solve everything. But there’s the question of how to do it” (154).

Olive grows increasingly uncomfortable, finally asking whether Louise is unwell. Physically, no, Louise says; mentally, she is less sure. Louise asks why Olive visited, insisting on an answer, ultimately calling Olive out. Olive wanted “a nice dose of schadenfreude, and it didn’t work” (156). Olive hurriedly goes to leave. As Olive fetches her coat, Louise begins to shout, referring to her son’s victim as “a bitch, you know. A slut […] evil, a living monster brought into this world to make a sweet boy crazy” (156). As Olive is nearly at the door, she sees Roger on the stairs. He silently holds the door open for her, and she exits.

Olive takes her usual path overlooking the river, dwelling on her visit to the Larkin home, but the path is busier than usual at this time of day. She returns to her car, certain she must tell somebody what happened. At the nursing home, Henry is asleep after an agitated night. Olive returns home and calls Christopher, telling him about her visit; again, Christopher provides the wrong response, seeming bewildered rather than intrigued, “as though accusing her of something” (159). After, Olive drives back to the nursing home.

As she drives, she feels a sudden sense of shame and embarrassment, a distraction powerful enough that she nearly hits Mary Blackwell’s car in the parking lot. Olive learned from Louise that Mary, a nurse, has been gossiping about Henry’s condition. Olive had been prepared to yell at the woman. However, after Olive instinctively apologizes before realizing who is in the car, Mary’s response is so “kind, gentle, absolutely forgiving” (160), that Olive actually questions herself: “Who did I think she was? thought Olive. (And then: Who do I think I was?)” (160). She makes her way to Henry, sitting with him for the rest of the day. As darkness falls, she whispers into his ear: “[Y]ou can die now, Henry” (161). Then, she leaves.

Months stretch out into seasons, and Henry does not die. Olive examines old family photographs and thinks about the tulip bulbs beneath the soil. She remembers a soccer field, attending Christopher’s games arm in arm with Henry, and she wonders whether Doyle Larkin ever attended such games. Olive decides that she was wrong to have visited Louise merely “hoping to feel better by knowing the woman suffered” (162). Olive sits with her knees drawn up against her chest and listens to her transistor radio. Soon, she knows, she will have to decide whether to plant the tulips again.

Chapter 9 Summary: “Basket of Trips”

Olive Kitteridge helps to arrange the funeral for Ed Bonney, owner of the grocery store in Crosby. Ed’s widow, Marlene, exits the church as Olive watches with Molly Collins. Marlene, her children, and her extended family take cars to the graveyard. Olive drives to the Bonneys’ house, past the home that she and Henry built for Christopher. She can no longer look at it, believing the new owners have treated it poorly.

Olive and Molly begin to prepare for the wake; Molly tries to talk about Christopher, but Olive is uninterested. Marlene and the family arrive at the house. Marlene was Olive’s pupil many years ago, and it has taken years for her to stop calling her “Mrs. Kitteridge.” Olive remembers that Ed and Marlene were together, even then. Kerry Monroe—a relative of Marlene’s whom Olive does not like—enters the room, and the house begins to fill. Olive struggles to recognize everyone. She feels a sense of “unreachability” (171); she came hoping that “in the presence of someone else’s sorrow, a tiny crack of light would somehow come through her own dark encasement” (172), but this has not been the case. Kerry Monroe is drunk. Disgusted, Olive attempts to leave the house without saying goodbye, only to find her car blocked in.

Olive finds an isolated place to sit, observing the other guests from a distance. She thinks of Henry and remembers the day of his stroke, imagining what he would say to her if he could still talk. Down by the shore, Eddie Bonney Junior skips stones; Kerry joins him, says something, then drunkenly stumbles back toward the house. A short time later, Olive hears Kerry slurring an apology to Marlene, who takes Kerry to go sleep it off.

Olive goes to find Marlene. In the room above the garage, Olive finds her sitting next to Kerry, who has passed out in bed. Marlene tells her that Kerry vomited in Eddie Junior’s room before passing out here. After a moment of silence, Marlene adds that she’s been considering killing Kerry. Marlene reveals a knife, which she briefly places against Kerry’s neck—after the fraught moment, though, Marlene sighs and sits down, handing the knife to Olive: “Do better with a pillow” (177), Olive suggests, and Marlene laughs before breaking down into tears.

Kerry told Marlene that “it happened with her and Ed only once” (177), but Marlene thinks it must have happened more often. Kerry also told Eddie Junior about the affair the day before. Marlene asks Olive for a favor: dispose of a collection of vacation pamphlets in a closet. Marlene is now ashamed that she used to daydream about holidays with Ed, even though they both knew his illness would never allow such trips. Olive assures Marlene she will, recalling how her own husband’s shoes have stayed in a bag in the garage since she brought them home from the hospital. As people begin to leave, Olive wishes she could tell Marlene about Christopher’s divorce, all the comforting lies she and Henry repeated to each other. She wants to “rest a hand on Marlene’s head” (180). However, “this is not the kind of thing Olive is especially able to do” (180). Instead, Olive stands beside Marlene and thinks about Eddie Junior and how youth is necessary for the strength it takes to skim stones across the water.

Chapters 7-9 Analysis

The seventh chapter, “Winter Concert,” advances the theme of The Necessity of Human Connection, providing a bittersweet contrast with other instances of affairs throughout the novel. Affairs are common throughout the book, both emotional and physical. Yet the allure of affairs seems matched by the unyielding connection to one’s spouse, cemented by time. In the first chapter, “Pharmacy,” even as Henry daydreams of a life with Denise, “[t]o leave Olive was as unthinkable as sawing off his leg” (26). In the fifth chapter, “Starving,” Harmon’s doctor sighs at the news that Harmon will be leaving his wife, as if the doctor “had known what Harmon didn’t know, that lives get knit together like bones, and fractures might not heal” (103). “Winter Concert” pushes this idea forward, even more explicitly addressing the elderly characters’ awareness of their own mortality.

In this context, Jane Houlton’s “nice black coat” (125) is an important symbol. She and her husband, Bob Houlton, bought the coat together: “Hard work” (125). At the start of the story, when her confidence and comfort in their connection is at its peak, she wears it “buttoned all the way up” (125). As the story progresses, however, she starts to shift inside it, her comfort diminishing. When they arrive home, after Jane has learned of Bob’s latest infidelity, she wears the coat inside; when Bob begs her to take it off, she responds “I’m cold” (138). It is only once Bob coaxes her out of the coat, with the veneer of a more perfect human connection removed, that Jane speaks honestly of her keen awareness of their pending mortality—an awareness that Bob seems unable to grapple with. The final lines of the story, a rhetorical question, suggest a poignant reflection on many of the relationships in the novel: “Because what did they have now, except for each other, and what could you do if it was not even quite that” (139)? Thomas, in her New York Times review, seems to provide something of an answer in the following of the novel: “There’s nothing mawkish or cheap here. There’s simply the honest recognition that we need to try to understand people, even if we can’t stand them” (Thomas, Louisa. “The Locals.” New York Times, 20 Apr. 2008).

The latter two of the three chapters in this section take place from Olive’s perspective, and both expand on Olive’s perspective of the world, even prompting her to start tentatively poking at the edges of it. In the eighth chapter, “Tulips,” the trip into the Larkin house, for Olive, is partly a voyage into her own mind—for Olive, who never self-reflects, the experience is darkly uncomfortable. She takes the trip out of necessity, as part of The Trials of Grief and Mental Illness. Olive sits at her kitchen table contemplating suicide, then stands: “she had to get out of here” (150). Going to the Larkin house is not necessarily a journey she wants to take, but one she must. There, Olive finds a dim and diminished house. Yet Louise Larkin, a woman Olive’s age, possesses uncanny beauty and startling insights into what Olive believes and feels—or at least, into what Olive tells herself she believes and feels. In Louise, Olive faces the version of herself that Olive has cultivated to survive. Louise parrots many of Olive’s coping mechanisms: “[a]lways, always, always, they blame the mother for everything” (153), and her son “is the sweetest man alive” (153). Olive’s discomfort at confronting these aspects of herself is palpable: “there was more than an inner silent groan of disappointment. There was an almost desperate urge to leave, and yet she could not” (153).

Olive ultimately flees, but the encounter does change her, if only by subtle degrees. In the immediate aftermath, Olive is eager to void the experience of any power: “The visit to the Larkin home sat inside her like a dark, messy injection of sludge spreading throughout her body. Only telling someone about it would get it hosed out” (157). However, there is nobody to tell but her son, and Christopher does not engage with the story in a way that relieves Olive of her responsibility for her actions. As Olive drives back to the nursing home, forced to be truly alone with herself and—for the first time—to reflect on herself, the change begins to take place:

She felt an upset different from the times before. […] she seemed caught between the pincers of some intractable remorse. A personal, deep embarrassment flushed through her […] It was shame that swiped across her soul, like these windshield wipers before her: two large black long fingers, relentless and rhythmic in their chastisement (159-60).

In the parking lot, after nearly hitting the car of a woman who Olive was prepared to fight, something new happens: Olive apologizes on instinct. Olive never apologizes. Henry has observed this aspect of Olive explicitly, and even other characters in Crosby seem to pick up on it. As Jane Houlton observes, Olive “had a way about her that was absolutely without apology” (130). Yet now Olive is beginning to gain some small awareness of the limits and boundaries of How Perspective Shapes Reality, even to grasp at the fact that other people have their own entire internal worlds. Her inner thoughts capture this reflection as she heads toward Henry: “Who did I think she was? thought Olive. (And then: Who do I think I was?)” (160).

The ninth chapter, “Basket of Trips,” further teases out the explorations in this section of grief and perception. As Olive assists with preparing for the gathering after the funeral, her thoughts feature the many things she is unwilling to share with anyone there. In turn, the story itself focuses on secrets: the long-held secret of an affair, now crassly revealed by the mistress at the husband’s funeral, and the subtle small lies shared between the husband and wife, as represented by the titular symbol. When Marlene exclaims that she feels embarrassed, Olive assumes the embarrassment stems from Marlene confessing to wishing to murder the sleeping mistress: In response, “Olive’s ready right now to say, if Marlene wants to hear, the different people she might like to kill” (179). However, that assumption is incorrect. Marlene is embarrassed of herself and her own participation in fake-planning vacations she knew her husband could never take. Marlene, Olive realizes in surprise, is unaware that everyone has a “basket of trips.” This lack of awareness, to Olive, makes Marlene “[a]n innocent […] A real one. You don’t find them anymore. Boy, you do not” (179-80). Touched, Olive stands near Marlene. The story’s ending is ambiguous. However, it suggests at least Olive’s continued reflection on herself and her own will to invent or sustain plans that will never come to pass: “she can only just remember that feeling herself, being young enough to pick up a rock, throw it out to sea with force, still young enough to do that, throw that damn stone” (180).

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