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Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout

“Angie, leaning her head now against the hallway wall, fingering her black skirt, felt she had figured something out too late, and that must be the way of life, to get something figured out when it was too late. Tomorrow she would go play the piano in the church, stop thinking about the bruises on her mother’s upper arm, that thin arm with its slack soft skin, so loose from the bone that when you squeeze it in your fingers it was hard to imagine it could feel anything.”


I really enjoyed this collection of short stories, and by the end I just wanted to get to the conclusion of Olive’s story. Beautiful, touching and moving. Highly recommend.

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