"Mrs. Bridge," by Evan S. Connell

I enjoyed Elizabeth Strout's prize-winning "Olive Kitteridge" so thoroughly (see my blog entry for 6/21/09) that I decided to read a contrasting study of one woman's life in suburban America as it existed a generation before Olive was born.

"Mrs. Bridge," a classic work by Evan S. Connell, is similar to "Olive Kitteridge" in several ways. Strout's book consists of a series of related short stories; Connell's novel consists of a string of 2-3 page vignettes. Both books illuminate the inner lives of long-married women who live comfortably within the confines of American suburbia. Neither book builds to a dramatic climax; both stories are told with a quiet understatement that matches the tenor of their main characters' daily domestic lives.

That being said, the two women in these novels could not be more different; their temperaments occupy opposite ends of the personality spectrum. Olive suspects her husband is a ninny, and she's not afraid to tell him so. Mrs. Bridge, on the other hand, adores her husband; he is the very anchor of her existence. She trustingly sits beside him in the dining room of a Kansas City country club while a tornado approaches within blocks of the building because he announces that the tornado will skirt the club, and he wants to finish his steak. Olive isn't afraid to confront her only child with a litany of his faults; her son's love for her is marred by a constant fear of being bullied. Mrs. Bridge, on the other hand, is slightly afraid of her own three children. She is deeply unnerved at her oldest daughter's tendency to wear trashy outfits and sneak off with boys at night, but she also suspects that her daughter knows something about life that she doesn't. She elliptically confronts her son about his dalliance with an "experienced girl" from the other side of the tracks by informing him that a very nice girl from the country club has been inquiring about him lately. Even her most compliant child, Caroline, eventually "one-up's" Mrs. Bridge by informing her, "I'll never let my husband boss me around like Daddy bosses you."

Mrs. Bridge isn't a complete angel; she harbors unsavory attitudes about race and class that emerge subtly during the course of the book. She is upset when her new laundry woman plumps into the front passenger seat of the car instead of taking a seat in the back, and she becomes ill at ease when her daughter's childhood friendship with a black girl persists into puberty. Ever the lady, however, Mrs. Bridge avoids direct confrontation and resolves these conflicts with veiled hints and subterfuge.

It is tempting to conclude that the difference between Olive and Mrs. Bridge is a product of their respective times; "Olive Kitteridge" is a contemporary tale, and "Mrs. Bridge" takes place in the 20's and 30's. This is true to a degree, but it doesn't explain why most of us know a "Mrs. Bridge" today (you know this woman, she's the one who always gets stuck laundering the table linens after the church bake sale). Conversely, the suffrage movement was probably populated by an abundance of "Olives" who weren't going to take it any more. Both types of women bring value to their insular world. Mrs. Bridge purchases a subscription to "Doberman" magazine from her impoverished art teacher because she can't say no; Olive Kitteridge shakes a student into action by informing him "If you're scared of your hunger, you'll just be one more ninny like everyone else." Olive's frequent displays of anger create a barrier to the psychological intimacy she craves from her family. Ironically, Mrs. Bridge's inability to express anger performs the same isolating function. Each woman's loneliness bears a direct relationship to her ultimate "unknowableness."

If you enjoy a gentle character study that draws you in with subtlety and surprising depth, you'll like "Mrs. Bridge." Additional suggestion: read "Revolutionary Road" and "The Ice Storm" for a slice of domestic dystopia in the 50's and the 70's, respectively.