The Gift of Literature

     My mom always told me that the books a person has says a lot about them. This may seem like an obvious statement--a person with hundreds of cookbooks most likely loves to cook, for example--but in my seventeen years I have found that this statement holds true on much deeper levels. In my uncle's house, I always notice that he has a ton of bibles on display throughout every single room, including the bathrooms, which I found a little strange since he does not practice a specific religion. The more I thought about it, though, and the more attention I paid to him and his quirky habits, I came to the conclusion that he kept this collection of bibles on display to honor the memory of his youth, when he had followed blindly in his parents' footsteps as a devout Protestant. When I finally asked him about it this year, he not only confirmed my suspicions but also shared with me another deeper reason. He told me that he kept them out in memory of his devoutly Catholic fiance, who died in a car crash the week before their set wedding date. Before having this talk with him, I had no idea that this woman even existed--apparently my family likes to avoid talking about tragedy. The bibles remind my uncle of the days of his youth, when he, as with all other children, felt carefree and still harbored that pure sense of innocence. They also remind him of days before that fateful accident when nothing marred his happiness. Additionally, he told me that he bookmarked several passages in one of the bibles that described how he wanted to live the rest of his life, and every so often he would take it off of its stand on the coffee table to read and reread those particular passages. Ever since we had that talk, I always give my uncle a new bible for his birthday. As I read through Elizabeth Strout's 2008 novel, Olive Kitteridge, I considered what books I would give to the troubled characters as birthday presents. Throughout the book, Henry Kitteridge appeared as the most appealing character to me. He reminded me a little of myself in his demeanor and personality, and, despite the internal conflicts he went through, he still remained faithful to those he loved.  After much consideration, I have chosen two books that I would present to Henry for his birthday. Not even halfway through the first short story, I decided that Ethan Frome would present itself as an extraordinarily appropriate gift for Henry. As Strout chronicles Henry's complex relationships with both Olive and Denise, the way he acts toward both women reminded me almost exactly of Ethan and his relationships with Zeena and Mattie. Guilt overcomes Ethan when he realizes how he feels about Mattie, and, similarly, Henry notes that he feels "guilty about everything" (10). He subconsciously compares a disagreement that he and Denise had to a "lovers quarrel" and feels equally guilty about that (24). He constantly denies to himself that he loves Denise, but his obsession with her proves otherwise. He gets frustrated with Olive's reluctance to have Denise and her first husband over to dinner, and becomes equally disdainful and resentful toward Olive with each snide remark she makes about Denise. I found the relationship between Henry and Denise as troubling and disturbing as the one between Ethan and Mattie. The second book that I would present to Henry took a little more thought. After reading about the relationship between Henry and Olive before and immediately after Henry's stroke, I decided that the thing that would most help Henry would come from the knowledge of how Olive genuinely felt about Henry. Olive acted very abrasively toward him, and this behavior occurred with such frequency that I wondered if Henry ever knew how much Olive really cared for him. With this in mind, I would give Henry none other that the much-acclaimed novel Olive Kitteridge. Because Strout gives perspective into the lives of so many people that Henry knew, he would get a much clearer idea of the extent of Olive's well-hidden compassion and loyalty to him. After Henry's stroke, Olive visits him every day, talks to him, and "spoons food into his mouth" (147). This subtle act of intimacy not only proves Olive's love for him but also made me wish that Henry could consciously realize everything that Olive said, thought, and felt about him before his stroke rendered him helpless and distant.  So, equipped with these two brilliant works of literature, I believe that Henry will see the world with a more clear perspective and have a much different outlook on life.

A Celebration of Life

     Back in March, I received word that doctors had diagnosed my friend's three-year-old brother, Jack, with brain cancer. Earlier this month, my friend called me, in tears, telling me that he had died, peacefully, in his sleep. Three days later, I attended his funeral. As I sat in the church with over 800 other people whose lives had been touched by Jack, I became slightly bored with the long eulogy and endless speeches from tearful friends and relatives and looked at the hundreds of people around me. Most of them, I noticed, either had tears in their eyes or tears streaming shamelessly down their forlorn faces. Even I have to admit that at certain points in the speech that my friend gave about her little brother I might have felt an occasional tear or two slide down my cheek. The little boy sitting next to me, who I recognized as one of Jack's friends, however, smiled throughout the entire ceremony. When the service finally drew to a close, I asked him why he did not appear sad at all, to which he replied, "Sad? Why should I be sad? This isn't a time to be sad, we're celebrating Jack's life!" I smiled at his response, but as I continued on through the day, the week, and the month, his words remained with me and whirled around in my head. So, when reading a passage in Strout's 2008 novel, Olive Kitteridge, about Jane Houlton, a troubled yet pleasant elderly woman, I decided that I wanted to live my life with her perspective and this little boy's outlook on life. As she reflects on life, Jane ponders its splendor and looks gratefully upon all the opportunities that it has given her. She comes to the conclusion that "so many moments weren't just moments, they were gifts" (126). Unlike the majority of the other characters that Strout chronicles in her novel, Jane shows a unique and unparalleled sense of appreciation and gratitude for even the littlest pleasures in life. She looks back on all of her memories, both pleasant and unpleasant, and appreciates the happiness in the pleasant ones and the experience and strength that she gained from the unpleasant ones. This sense of gratitude makes her happier and more appreciative in general, and allows her to lead a more rewarding and fulfilling life. I find this attitude inspiring, as I try to harbor the same outlook. Although I do not always succeed, I have committed myself to continue trying. Additionally, during this same reflection, Jane realizes that "people were compelled to celebrate because... life was a thing to celebrate" (126). Just like the little boy with whom I spoke at the funeral, Jane takes into consideration the fact that we should celebrate life and appreciate all that it has to offer us. We should take full advantage of each little opportunity for mental and emotional growth and learn what we can from every experience, painful or joyful, that we go through. Most importantly, though, we need to remember that, during moments that may seem sad, like funerals, instead of dwelling on the depressing factors of the situation we need to follow both Jane's and this little boy's example and celebrate life.

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Empathy

     Dictionary.com defines empathy as the intellectual identification with or various experiencing of the feelings, thoughts, or attitudes of another. A Student's Dictionary defines empathy as the ability to share the feelings of another person. I define empathy as a person's capacity to feel and understand the feelings and situations of others. No matter which one we use, though, one word will inevitably appear in each definition: feelings. Elizabeth Strout's 2008 novel, Olive Kitteridge, offers deep and in-depth descriptions of a unique and troubled cast characters and the feelings, traumatic internal conflicts, and attempted resolutions of each. Strout, a former citizen of Maine, harbors a deeply-rooted understanding of the need for empathy and, through the workings of her novel, attempts to share this understanding by painting the reader a portrait of the way she sees the world.  Throughout the first third of the novel, I can see that Strout believes that, in order to live life to the fullest, we must hold a certain consideration of the feelings of others, pursue feelings of empathy, and realize that each and every person suffers from their own pressing internal conflicts. Some of these conflicts we may not understand, but, the way Strout sees it, we must make every attempt to see life through everyone else's eyes. Even before reading this book, I had the same views as Strout--I believe that empathy overshadows all other qualities in value and importance. I believe that to fully understand another individual one must realize that, no matter how happy they may seem on the outside, each person will inevitably internally suffer from their own conflicts at some point in their lives. In the lives of the characters in Olive Kitteridge, I noticed that each character's suffering stems from one particular event or series of events, and then the internal confliction and memories of the pain come back to haunt the characters in their old age. In the case of pianist Angela O'Meara, for example, two particular events triggered this internal conflict: the loss of a love and the unwise and selfish decisions of an overbearing, overprotective mother. The entire section that Strout writes about her goes into detail about these particular events and how each affects her in her old age. Before offering this detail, however, Strout describes Angela's face and notes that "nothing harsh--it seemed--had happened to [it]" (49). She goes on to disprove this later in the chapter when discussing these traumatic events and the internal conflict following each. By showing the audience that things do not always appear as they seem, Strout advances her assertion that we tend to focus in only on our own struggles and ignore those of others, especially if others try to keep them hidden or do not feel comfortable discussing them. We may lose sight of the fact that each person fights their own unique battles with their own unique problems. The fact that we all constantly fight against these pent-up demons draws us all together and proves that we, along with the characters in the story, have more in common than it may seem. Likewise, as Olive lies on the bed after her son's wedding, she ponders the meaning of life and the sources of genuine happiness. She comes to the conclusion that something as simple as a "friendly clerk" or a waitress who "knows how you like your coffee" can brighten someone's day and make them temporarily forget whatever struggle they may currently face (69).  If Olive, the character who faces the most internal conflicts throughout the course of the story, can find happiness through these simple acts of kindness and friendliness, then Strout believes that we should make sure to treat everyone with kindness and take the time to get to know everyone because we do not know what kind of emotional trauma they may be facing. If we can do something simple to brighten their day, that act of kindness will remain in their memory and continue to brighten their seemingly dreary and dismal days to come.