The Case of the Missing Theme

If I had a chance to sit down with the Pulitzer Prize winning author Elizabeth Strout I would have several inquiries in which I would like to see answered. However, one such question regarding her 2008 novel Olive Kitteridge has meddled itself into my thoughts since finishing the book and even during the story itself. "What is the overall theme of your novel"? It seems such a basic, shallow, and unspecific question however I can not seem to pinpoint an overall purpose for the story. The brunt of the issue lays within the way Strout writes: thirteen separate stories within themselves each with ostensibly little to no underlying connections with one another. Aside from basic plot developments connecting from one story to the next unearthing a carrying over theme seems nearly hopeless. Given, each story has its own set theme which presents itself without much need for analyzation. For instance, the theme of Ship in a Bottle: "sometimes one has to sacrifice what they think is right choice for the betterment of others". Strout proves this theme when Winnie's sister runs off with her boyfriend instructing Winnie not to tell anyone. Consequently, Winnie "almost cried" due to her yearning to tell her parents, and second guessed herself thinking "they could still do it [get her sister], she was still here" (197). However, Winnie does not give it up until her sister had already left, validating the theme. Likewise, other passages have their individual themes, take A Different Road  for example, Strout includes an individual theme of how "One needs to cherish everyday because anything can happen". This exemplifies itself in how quickly a normal day turned into a life or death situation for Olive. When at the hospital for a surprise check-up "A tall man holding a rifle" and a "person in a blue ski mask" take her and her husband hostage (113). They end up making it out alive but not after they have guns pointed at their heads and threats made, this external conflict supports the theme associated once more exemplifying how each story has its own theme. However, therein lay the problem for me. I could not help but search for a connection, a vague similarity, I expected that the last story would provide some sense of closure. Unfortunately the last story seems to posses its own theme as well. Not to mention no connecting of the characters or events took place at the end either which I could bear, but still the question keeps nagging me. Without a universal theme, however ambiguous, how can there be a true purpose? So please Elizabeth Strout, drop me a hint here, what did you intend for the universal theme? Unless each individual theme somehow harnesses a purpose which I have yet to ascertain.

Ovations for Olive

During the first third of Elizabeth Strout's 2008 novel Olive Kitteridge I harbored a slight resentment towards the pseudo main character Olive due to her seemingly insensitive behavior. For example, when in the presence of company, her husband Henry accidentally knocks ketchup over, and she sneers: "Leave it alone, Henry. For God's sake" (7). Olive's derisive tone through the commanding diction of "leave it" makes for quite an uncomfortable situation for her guests. Not only does this spout of anger leave her one guest "looking stricken" but it also indirectly characterizes Olive as spastic but it also forms a slightly menacing persona for her (7). Likewise, my disdainful feelings towards Olive arose once again when at her son's wedding a sobbing sister-in-law asked Olive if she cried at weddings to which olive replied "I don't see any reason to cry" (67). The juxtaposition of a seemingly crass Olive against her emotional counterpart furthers Olive's seemingly cold and inhumane persona. Thus, I could not help but hold a standoffish  mentality against Olive and her sheer apathy for others . However, further on in my reading I began to notice my feelings for her evolve into more of an appreciation for her cynical tones and realistic outlooks on life due to signs of her not being so tough and insensitive after all . For instance, when Olive finally spends time with Chris in New York City she could "not let go of a certain happiness inside her" (220). Strout indirectly characterizes Olive as upbeat, dare I say, jovial and she has finally began to shed her persona of a dispassionate hermit. Olive's dynamic character delves into so many levels, but through this "happiness inside her" she seems to embody a characteristic which every other character has had from the beginning: emotion. I can not help but crack a smile knowing Olive finally has something to smile about herself.  Likewise, the unfamiliar personality of Olive arises again when Rebecca recollects that Olive had told her "If you ever want to talk to me about anything", she could (242). The reassuring tone via the friendly diction of "anything" shines Olive in a light unlike any before, Strout interestingly reveals Olive's gentle and compassionate side through another characters story instead of through Olive's own dialogue. Furthermore, Strout indirectly characterizes Olive as benevolent, a characterization which I had never expected to associate with her, especially back during her days as a school teacher. I am now beginning to believe that Olive has a tough exterior but under her thick figure and allegedly horrid dresses lies a warm, wise person enduring a struggle to uphold her facade as a resilient and tenacious woman.

Conservative Charazterization

The main characteristic that makes Elizabeth Strout's 2008 novel Olive Kitteridge shed the visage of a painfully average book would undoubtedly be the vast amount of characters present in the story. Not only does Strout introduce fresh new characters each chapter but she also paints the characters in their own unique image abstractly detailing them within sometimes just a few sentences. Thus, Strout provides the reader with an opportunity to make accurate assumptions about the characters without spending countless pages describing them all. For example, when introducing Henry Kitteridge Strout simply states that he "Retired now" and how he "wakes early as though the world were his secret" (3). Whilst this may not seem like much Strout says so much about Henry's character which I can easily interpret. For instance, the direct characterization of Henry as a retired man indicates he has quite a few years under his belt  which could give me the sense of him as a decrepit old man. However, by including the simile about Henry's mornings seving as "his secret" Strout gives the apparent husband to Olive Kitteridge a slightly whimsical and friendly charm. Furthermore, Strout indirectly characterizes Henry as innocent and almost child-like through having his own little "secret" time alone with the world. Although this might all seem like an opinion, it holds true later on in the story when Henry exemplifies his inferred friendly and innocent persona by  inviting his employees over for dinner, or having the "need to keep everyone content" (4). Likewise Strout's ability to  inadvertently describe a character furthers itself when first discussing how Christopher's new wife Suzanne "will take over...coming from money the way she does" (63). On the surface Strout seems to only indirectly characterize her as wealthy. However by saying this through the often accusatory tone of Olive Kitteridge I am led to infer that she posses the qualities of a spoiled brat. Furthermore, the foreshadowing of Suzannanne "taking over" Christopher's life led me to believe she will act as more of an omen to Olive and Henry rather than a loving daughter-in-law. Again, my inferences thanks to Strout's open-ended characterization of Suzanne as a control freak prove accurate once more when Chris tells his mom that "Suzanne and I are moving to California" (142). Through Strout's ability to develop a persona through only a sentence or two I have come to appreciate the vast amount of characters that I would otherwise detest due to the prospect of memorizing them all.

A beautiful end to a book about, well, a beautiful end.

The end of Kurt Vonnegut's 1963 novel Cat's Cradle left me feeling content but wanting more, not in the sense of the story missing something, but the longing for more of Vonnegut's writing. The story stayed true to it's thematically ironic approach and overall lighthearted yet cynical tone. However, the frequently foreshadowed Apocalypse due to the chemical meant to free soldiers from mud in WWII played out beautifully, entertaining my always high expectations. The description of the world covered in the "poisonous blue-white frost" of ice-nine actually seemed like slightly pretty imagery if you take away the fact that frozen corpses litter the ground (189). Honestly, the place sounds pretty peaceful to me, I would not mind a little scenery change, or some peace and quiet, Vonnegut manages to make the demise of the planet Earth eerily serene. Unlike the modern pop-culture references to a bloody, fiery, damning end to a pathetic humanity which so many movies and books depict, Vonnegut, who even wrote during a time where this outcome could certainly happen, took a different approach, dousing the fear of those reading it by making the end of the book, and the end of the world itself, seem slightly tolerable. Furthermore,  the tone the speaker Jonah uses seems consistently accepting of the doom, and keeping in stride with the book, cynical. For example, Jonah declares that life with the few survivors left on the frozen rock called Earth "had a certain Walt Disney charm" (198). The allusion to the jovial childhood filmmaker gave me a sense that living in a post-apocolyptic wasteland really gets a bad rap and that in Vonnegut's eyes, it can have a "carefree" feeling to it. Thus, the nontraditional depiction of the end times appealed to me in a way that made me want to go hang out with Jonah and his rag-tag gang of misfit survivors, however crazy that may seem. But all in all the ending of the great saga known as Cat's Cradle turned out perfectly. Vonnegut keep the visage of a book centered around mocking the turbulent days of the Cold War and the apocalypse which everyone feared, coloring the then unpredictable and frightening future with a tinge of humor.

There are two things in this world that anger me: parking meters without the "first ten minutes free" button, and Hazel Crosby

Although Kurt Vonnegut's 1963 novel Cat's Cradle boasts a variety of amiable and quirky characters, each with their own distinguishing characteristics, which usually seem to take shape in the form of flaws, one character makes me want to vacate planet earth altogether. She goes by the name Hazel Crosby, the wife of the pompous and pudgy businessman H. Lowe Crosby whom seeks a new force of sweatshop laborers in San Lorenzo. Although the motives of her husband might make him seem like the one to detest, I could not help but cringe at every word of his wife. Hazel embodies every stereotype of a ditsy, obnoxious american imaginable. For example, when ranting about her and the speaker Jonas' status as "Hoosiers" she urges "You call me mom" (65). This comes off in an extremely creepy way due to her oddly commanding tone for something that would otherwise be seemingly cute for an older lady to say. However her overly-friendly mannerism combined with her direct characterization as "heavy" and with a "twangy accent" paints a horrific image of everything I am ashamed of in America (63). More specifically, that image presents itself in the form of an overweight, rosy cheeked middle-aged woman with curlers scattered around her thinning blond hair. However innocent this may seem by itself, when combined with being a total ignoramus Hazel becomes the epitome of an arrogant American as seen in the eyes of the world over. Furthermore, my seething frusturation with Hazel arises when after exiting the plane and seeing the locals she quips, "good thing its a christian island" or else she would "be a little scared" (98). Because being christian automatically fornicates the goodness in people, sarcasm intended, Miss Crosby narrow-mindedness shines through her plump physique once more. Thus, prompting me to feel a tinge of embarrassment for being associated with people such as her, however fictional her character may be. The picture perfect religion spewing, oafish american as seen in Miss Crosby manages to set off every one of my pet peeves in one fell swoop creating a foil to other more likable characters in the novel such as the always cleverly cynical speaker, Jonah. l;

It is so difficult to think of something witty to call this post that im being that guy that says "insert title here", i am not proud of this.

              The structure in which Kurt Vonnegut's 1963 novel, Cat's Cradle presents itself appeals so highly to me that two days after purchasing the book I am nearing the final ten pages. Through a melange of quick, anecdotal-like passages making up the entirety of the story, Vonnegut presents a foundation unlike any other book I have ever slaved through under the powerful fist of Ms. Serensky. For instance, the author's passages vary in size, some half a page like "Baracuda Capital of the World", others two or more pages like "Enemies of Freedom" but they always stay consistently short and that accounts for a cool change of pace from books with chapters that drag on so long they disrupt the space-time continuum (58,162). Likewise, the titles of each, "vignette", if you will, have a sometimes vague or sarcastic connection foreshadowing the content of the following passage. Take the one called "The Happiness of Being an American" for example, the sarcastic tone via the verbally ironic diction of "Happiness" coincides with the following passage depicting the arrogant American "entrepreneur" Mr. Crosby calling the well-off owner of the island hotel a "pissant" (110). The theme of the passage obviously being speakers embarrassment of being associated with Americans such as Mr. Crosby. With each title and vignette comes a new development to the story and since Vonnegut lays each out in chronological order the story flows seamlessly engrossing me to the point where after each passage I would try to barter with myself to just read one more, but I kept outsmarting myself to continue reading. Furthermore, the choppy syntax and witty tone of the voice in the novel: Jonah, compiles itself into a familiar, cynical style of dialogue making for a jocular read. For example when enveloped in what are usually one-sided converstations about matters that seem to interest others but no much Jonah he responds sarcastically "um", "nope", "uh huh" (65, 66). The sarcastic tone brought about by the juxtaposition of his short sarcastic quips to the sometimes paragraph long speeches of the other characters develops a witty form of dialogue allowing for a kind of "inside joke" between myself and Jonah when he finds himself trapped in conversation. Consequently, the humor of this novel spawns in part to the recurrence of remarks like these and his consistently "uninterested" tone of dialogue allowing for a quiet snicker here and there. In short, the style of writing all seems to revolve around the short vignettes combined with the cynically ironic tone of the speaker making for a fresh twist to the usually linear and shallow writing styles of previous chapter books I have encountered.

Ottomotive is back in buissness

After Larry "checks himself out" from the hospital at the end of the Tom Franklin's 2010 novel Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter a new chapter of his life begins to unfold for the better. Thus the most important exchange signifying this comes when Silas, whom dumped Larry as a friend and ignored him in the past, asks "you might look at the carburetor for me?" (271). This simple question has so much underlying meaning to it and represents a positive change in not only Silas' persona in that of a reignited friendship with Larry, but also Larry's acceptance in his town of Chabot. Silas acts as a synecdoche for the habitants of Chabot whom previously ostracized Larry, unfairly, but now accept him due to his proven innocence. This newfound change in acceptance presents itself in Silas' inquiry to Larry's mechanical skills left untapped due to his conviction as a killer. Throughout the novel, Franklin uses Larry's mechanic shop as a symbol of his loneliness: "the bay door always raised and waiting", "hoping for a knock, a belt to squeal" (27,95). The parallelism of his lonely life, cast aside by society finally gets put to rest when Silas asks Larry this simple question. Silas' friendly tone via the casual diction of "you" infers a level of new found intimacy with Larry that no single person has established since Cindy Walker went missing. Thus establishing he will become the first customer of Ottomotive in decades signifying a formal end to his ostracization when the bay doors click open with a defined purpose as opposed to sitting open and waiting.Furthermore, I think the synecdoche of Silas evolves through this question to hint that from now on the same people who called the poor man "Scary Larry" will now stop by his shop to get their muffler replaced and talk about the last Cubs game.