“That was the first story that I wrote for Olive, Again,” says Strout, cheerfully. In the exchange that follows, one becomes aware of Strout’s sympathetic range: she is Kitteridge, fawning over the celebrated writer while remaining convinced of her own superiority she is Andrea, the poet, regarding her old teacher with a cold eye and of course she is the novelist herself, exhibiting, in the dynamic between these women, the ruthless gaze of the writer on her prey. Kitteridge, an elderly widow by now and still living in Maine, spots a former pupil in a diner – the girl has become famous, she is the poet laureate – and approaches her to revive the connection. T here is a moment in Olive, Again, the eagerly awaited follow-up to Olive Kitteridge, Elizabeth Strout’s best-seller of 2008, in which the novelist’s virtuosity is on full display.
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