Tell Me Everything (Oprah's Book Club)
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER ¿ OPRAH'S BOOK CLUB PICK ¿ From Pulitzer Prize-winning author Elizabeth Strout comes a “stunner” (People) of a novel about new friendships, old loves, and the very human desire to leave a mark on the world.

Tell Me Everything hits like a bucolic fable. . . . A novel of moods, how they govern our personal lives and public spaces, reflected in Strout's shimmering technique.”-The Washington Post

A BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR: Time, NPR, Vogue

With her remarkable insight into the human condition and silences that contain multitudes, Elizabeth Strout returns to the town of Crosby, Maine, and to her beloved cast of characters-Lucy Barton, Olive Kitteridge, Bob Burgess, and more-as they deal with a shocking crime in their midst, fall in love and yet choose to be apart, and grapple with the question, as Lucy Barton puts it, “What does anyone's life mean?”

It's autumn in Maine, and the town lawyer Bob Burgess has become enmeshed in an unfolding murder investigation, defending a lonely, isolated man accused of killing his mother. He has also fallen into a deep and abiding friendship with the acclaimed writer Lucy Barton, who lives down the road in a house by the sea with her ex-husband, William. Together, Lucy and Bob go on walks and talk about their lives, their fears and regrets, and what might have been. Lucy, meanwhile, is finally introduced to the iconic Olive Kitteridge, now living in a retirement community on the edge of town. They spend afternoons together in Olive's apartment, telling each other stories. Stories about people they have known-“unrecorded lives,” Olive calls them-reanimating them, and, in the process, imbuing their lives with meaning.

Brimming with empathy and pathos, Tell Me Everything is Elizabeth Strout operating at the height of her powers, illuminating the ways in which our relationships keep us afloat. As Lucy says, “Love comes in so many different forms, but it is always love.”
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Tell Me Everything (Oprah's Book Club)
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER ¿ OPRAH'S BOOK CLUB PICK ¿ From Pulitzer Prize-winning author Elizabeth Strout comes a “stunner” (People) of a novel about new friendships, old loves, and the very human desire to leave a mark on the world.

Tell Me Everything hits like a bucolic fable. . . . A novel of moods, how they govern our personal lives and public spaces, reflected in Strout's shimmering technique.”-The Washington Post

A BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR: Time, NPR, Vogue

With her remarkable insight into the human condition and silences that contain multitudes, Elizabeth Strout returns to the town of Crosby, Maine, and to her beloved cast of characters-Lucy Barton, Olive Kitteridge, Bob Burgess, and more-as they deal with a shocking crime in their midst, fall in love and yet choose to be apart, and grapple with the question, as Lucy Barton puts it, “What does anyone's life mean?”

It's autumn in Maine, and the town lawyer Bob Burgess has become enmeshed in an unfolding murder investigation, defending a lonely, isolated man accused of killing his mother. He has also fallen into a deep and abiding friendship with the acclaimed writer Lucy Barton, who lives down the road in a house by the sea with her ex-husband, William. Together, Lucy and Bob go on walks and talk about their lives, their fears and regrets, and what might have been. Lucy, meanwhile, is finally introduced to the iconic Olive Kitteridge, now living in a retirement community on the edge of town. They spend afternoons together in Olive's apartment, telling each other stories. Stories about people they have known-“unrecorded lives,” Olive calls them-reanimating them, and, in the process, imbuing their lives with meaning.

Brimming with empathy and pathos, Tell Me Everything is Elizabeth Strout operating at the height of her powers, illuminating the ways in which our relationships keep us afloat. As Lucy says, “Love comes in so many different forms, but it is always love.”
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Tell Me Everything (Oprah's Book Club)

Tell Me Everything (Oprah's Book Club)

by Elizabeth Strout

Narrated by Kimberly Farr

Unabridged — 10 hours, 59 minutes

Tell Me Everything (Oprah's Book Club)

Tell Me Everything (Oprah's Book Club)

by Elizabeth Strout

Narrated by Kimberly Farr

Unabridged — 10 hours, 59 minutes

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Overview

Notes From Your Bookseller

The ultimate Elizabeth Strout story: Lucy Barton and Olive Kitteridge teaching us about ourselves, one page at a time.

NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER ¿ OPRAH'S BOOK CLUB PICK ¿ From Pulitzer Prize-winning author Elizabeth Strout comes a “stunner” (People) of a novel about new friendships, old loves, and the very human desire to leave a mark on the world.

Tell Me Everything hits like a bucolic fable. . . . A novel of moods, how they govern our personal lives and public spaces, reflected in Strout's shimmering technique.”-The Washington Post

A BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR: Time, NPR, Vogue

With her remarkable insight into the human condition and silences that contain multitudes, Elizabeth Strout returns to the town of Crosby, Maine, and to her beloved cast of characters-Lucy Barton, Olive Kitteridge, Bob Burgess, and more-as they deal with a shocking crime in their midst, fall in love and yet choose to be apart, and grapple with the question, as Lucy Barton puts it, “What does anyone's life mean?”

It's autumn in Maine, and the town lawyer Bob Burgess has become enmeshed in an unfolding murder investigation, defending a lonely, isolated man accused of killing his mother. He has also fallen into a deep and abiding friendship with the acclaimed writer Lucy Barton, who lives down the road in a house by the sea with her ex-husband, William. Together, Lucy and Bob go on walks and talk about their lives, their fears and regrets, and what might have been. Lucy, meanwhile, is finally introduced to the iconic Olive Kitteridge, now living in a retirement community on the edge of town. They spend afternoons together in Olive's apartment, telling each other stories. Stories about people they have known-“unrecorded lives,” Olive calls them-reanimating them, and, in the process, imbuing their lives with meaning.

Brimming with empathy and pathos, Tell Me Everything is Elizabeth Strout operating at the height of her powers, illuminating the ways in which our relationships keep us afloat. As Lucy says, “Love comes in so many different forms, but it is always love.”

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly

★ 06/17/2024

The latest from Pulitzer winner Strout (Olive Kitteridge) brings together characters from her previous novels for a masterly meditation on storytelling. After 86-year-old Mainer Gloria Beach is found dead in a quarry, semi-retired lawyer Bob Burgess agrees to represent Gloria’s son, Matthew, who is the prime suspect in her possible murder. Bob has grown close to author Lucy Barton, who moved to the area from New York City during the pandemic, and the duo spend hours walking together and chatting. After Bob takes Matthew’s case, Lucy calls him a “sin eater,” a term that came to her mind during a recent chat with Olive Kitteridge, who’s been inviting Lucy over to her retirement community to gossip about their neighbors. As Bob works with Matthew on preparing his defense in the event of a murder charge, he begins to wonder if he’s falling in love with Lucy. Though Olive doesn’t say anything, she’s been convinced all along that Lucy and Bob are developing feelings for each other. The narrative threads make for dishy small-town drama, but even more satisfying are the insights Strout weaves into the dialogue. Late in the novel, after Olive asks Lucy the point of writing stories, she responds, “People and the lives they lead. That’s the point.” Longtime fans and newcomers alike will relish this. Agent: Molly Friedrich, Friedrich Agency. (Sept.)

From the Publisher

A generous, compassionate novel about the human need for connection, understanding and love, and the damage that occurs when those things are denied.”San Francisco Chronicle

“A rich tapestry, intricately wrought yet effortlessly realized, both suspenseful and meditative . . . Suffering and the enduring of it, the human impulse to solve and resolve confronting the fundamental unknowability of others and life’s essential mystery, finding hope, love, and connection in improbable places: Strout’s perpetual preoccupations are here explored with clear sighted rigor, emotional generosity, and bighearted joy.”The Boston Globe

“[Strout’s] books are really about exploring characters so rich that they reveal more of themselves in book after book after book.”Minneapolis Star Tribune

“No need to have read Strout’s other work to fall in love with this stand-alone story that explores the quiet impact we have on each other every day.”—Real Simple

“Strout covers the ghosts of marriages and the indignity of old age with her usual thoughtfulness.”Vulture

“This book may be the epitome of literary fun . . . Once again, Strout has managed to compress key histories from her earlier books into a few telling sentences, a miracle of distillation that opens this novel, and the Strout ecosystem, to new and old readers alike.”—Portland Press-Herald

“Quietly wonderful and wise.”AAR

“Rejoice, Strout fans . . . the author concerns herself and her characters with the art of narrative . . . a reminder that our mistakes make up our most interesting tales.”Los Angeles Times
 
“Life, thank goodness, goes on in Strout’s remarkably-crafted world.”Town and Country

“Strout weaves a gossamer-light web of a community’s hopes and setbacks.”The Guardian

“Strout superfans will be thrilled to see the prickly protagonist of the author’s Pulitzer Prize–winning Olive Kitteridge . . . finally cross paths with the tender heroine of My Name Is Lucy Barton and Lucy by the Sea. But if you’ve never cracked the spine of a Strout novel before, don’t sweat it—you’ll feel like a Crosby, Maine, local by the end of the first chapter.”Oprah Daily

“Another deeply human and vibrant portrait of relationships, Tell Me Everything will bring the cozy and comforting story that fans have come to expect.”—She Reads

“With tenderness, honesty, intimacy, and compassion, Strout uses her cunning powers of observation to draw readers beyond the mundane to the miraculous complexities where true friendship lies. . . . An absolute must-have.”Booklist, starred review

“The narrative threads make for dishy small-town drama, but even more satisfying are the insights Strout weaves into the dialogue. Longtime fans and newcomers alike will relish this.”Publishers Weekly, starred review

OCTOBER 2024 - AudioFile

Narrator Kimberly Farr pretty much owns Elizabeth Strout's Maine characters at this point, and what a good thing that is. This quietly compelling novel brings together Strout's beloved, sometimes maddening, always vivid characters from multiple novels past, many of them also performed by Farr. Life and time have landed Bob Burgess and his wife, Margaret; Lucy Barton and her ex-husband, William; plus Olive Kitteridge in the village of Crosby, Maine. Farr has the skill to make each personality distinct and idiosyncratic, and the taste and training to balance each one's needs and wants as they weave in and out of one another's days. Love, grief, kindness, a murder, and a bad haircut shape these lives in an undramatic way that seems artless, but definitely isn't. B.G. Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award © AudioFile 2024, Portland, Maine

Kirkus Reviews

2024-07-04
A group of familiar characters cluster around an almost-romance between writer Lucy Barton and lawyer Bob Burgess.

Strout’s latest novel is essentially a collection of stories, many of them shared by Lucy and Olive Kitteridge, who somewhat arbitrarily set this plotline in motion by telling Bob, “I have a story to tell that writer....I wish you would have her come visit me.” Lucy relocated to Crosby, Maine, with her ex-husband, William, during the pandemic, conveniently bringing together the people and backstories from most of Strout’s previous fiction. Among those returning with new chapters in their histories are Bob’s brother, Jim; sister, Susan; and ex-wife, Pam; along with his current wife, Margaret, a local minister who may be ousted by a parishioner whose defining quality is that he sleeps during services. The parishioner’s motive is never specified, which suits the overall tone of a novel anchored in the central premise of Strout’s work: “We all are such mysteries.” When Olive asks Lucy with irritation what the point of one of her stories is (readers may be wondering the same), Lucy answers, “People and the lives they lead. That’s the point.” A murder case in which Bob is defending a man accused of killing his mother offers the only firm closure here; more typical is another twist in the long-running issue of who was responsible for the death of Jim and Bob’s father, which culminates with the declaration, “No one willever know.” Even Bob’s growing attraction to Lucy, though it reaches a crisis, subsides without definitive resolution. Strout’s tenderness for her characters and her belief that love is the only force in human lives as powerful as our essential loneliness are as moving as ever. But this all seems like very well-plowed terrain.

Strout’s many fans will love this sweet, rambling tale. More critical readers may feel it’s time for her to move on.

Product Details

BN ID: 2940160429939
Publisher: Penguin Random House
Publication date: 09/10/2024
Edition description: Unabridged
Sales rank: 200,158

Read an Excerpt

1

This is the story of Bob Burgess, a tall, heavyset man who lives in the town of Crosby, Maine, and he is sixty-five years old at the time that we are speaking of him. Bob has a big heart, but he does not know that about himself; like many of us, he does not know himself as well as he assumes to, and he would never believe he had anything worthy in his life to document. But he does; we all do.

*

Autumn comes early to Maine.

By the second or third week in August a person driving in a car might glance up and see in the distance the top of a tree that has become red. In Crosby, Maine, this year it happened first with the large maple tree by the church, and yet it was not even midway through the month of August. But the tree began to change color on its side facing east. This was curious to those who had lived there for years, they could not remember that being the first tree to change color. By the end of August, the entire tree was not red but a slightly orange yellowy thing, to be seen as you turned the corner onto Main Street. And then September followed, the summer people went back to where they had come from, and the streets of Crosby often had only a few people walking down them. The leaves did not seem vibrant, overall, and people speculated that this was because of the lack of rainfall that August—and September—had endured.

A few years earlier, people entering the town of Crosby from the turnpike’s exit would drive past a car dealership and a donut shop and a diner, and also by large run-down wooden houses whose porches held things like bicycle tires and plastic toys and coat hangers and air conditioning units that had not been used in years, and in one of these houses a middle-aged man named Ricky Davis lived. He was a large man and frequently drunk and could often be seen leaning over the rail of his side porch with his pants halfway down showing his huge bottom, crack and all, to the folks driving by, and those who had not seen this before would turn their heads to watch with a sense of wonderment. But then the town council had voted to put in the new police station at that spot, and so Ricky Davis and the house he had lived in were now gone; it was rumored that he was living out near the old fairgrounds in a Hatfield Housing unit.

When you got into the middle of the town you could see a large brick house that stood a little off Main Street. After the clocks were set back in November, making it dark earlier, the few folks driving by, and those who might be strolling on the sidewalk across the street, could see into the windows of this house, yellow from the lamps turned on inside, and Bob Burgess and his wife, Margaret Estaver, might be observed cooking together in their kitchen until they tugged their curtains closed. People knew who they were, and in a way not fully conscious there was a sense of safety that came from this couple living right here in the middle of town: Margaret was the Unitarian minister, and she had her following. Bob had been a lawyer in New York City for many years in his younger days, but nobody held this against him, probably because he had grown up in Shirley Falls, forty-five minutes away; he had returned to Maine almost fifteen years ago when he married Margaret. He still took occasional criminal cases in Shirley Falls and was known to keep an office there, though he had mostly retired by now. And also—people spoke of this quietly—Bob had suffered a tragedy in childhood: He had been playing with the gearshift of the family car and it had rolled down the hill of the Burgesses’ driveway; people in town understood that the car—and therefore Bob—had killed Bob’s father, who was checking on their mailbox there.

Olive Kitteridge, who was ninety years old and living in the retirement community called the Maple Tree Apartments, knew this about Bob Burgess and she had always liked him, she thought he had a quiet sadness to him, most likely from this early misfortune. Olive did not particularly care for Bob’s wife, Margaret. This was because Margaret was a minister and Olive did not like ministers—except for Cookie, who had married her to her first husband, Henry. Wonderful man, Reverend Daniel Cooke. And wonderful man, Henry Kitteridge.

The pandemic had been hard for Olive Kitteridge—hard for everyone, really—but Olive had endured it, day after day in her little apartment in this retirement community, yet when they stopped allowing people to eat in the dining room and started bringing their food to them instead, she thought she would go absolutely batty. By the end of that first year, though, with her vaccinations and then later a booster, she was able to get out a bit more, someone might drive her into town or take her down by the water. But the real problem was that during the pandemic, Olive’s best friend, Isabelle Goodrow, who lived two doors down from her, had taken a bad fall and—of all the awful things that could have happened—had been moved “over the bridge” to the nursing home part of the place. Now Olive went to visit Isabelle every day, reading her the newspaper from front to back. But it had been hard, and it still was.

Out on the end of the point of Crosby, high up on a cliff that looked over the (mostly) roiling waters of the Atlantic Ocean, lived a woman named Lucy Barton, who had arrived with her ex-husband, William, two years before, escaping New York City during the pandemic, and they had ended up staying in town. There were mixed feelings about this: The natural reticence toward New Yorkers was part of it, but also housing prices in Crosby had gone through the roof exactly because of folks like this Lucy Barton, who had decided to stay in town, and anyone from Maine who had been hoping to move into a nicer house now found that they could not afford one. Lucy Barton had grown up in a small town in Illinois and had lived in New York City her whole adult life; she had never even been a summer person in Maine before arriving here with her ex-husband. Also, Lucy Barton was a fiction writer, and that made people have different feelings; mostly they would have preferred her to go back to New York, but nobody seemed to have anything bad to say about her; and except for her walks along the river with her friend Bob Burgess she was rarely seen. Although she was sometimes observed going through the back door that led up to the little office space she rented above the bookstore.

On Main Street there were HELP WANTED signs or HIRING NOW signs in most of the store windows, and along the coastline a few restaurants had to close because there were not enough people to work in them. What had gone wrong? There were different theories, but it would be fair to say that most inhabitants of Crosby did not know. They only knew that the world was not what it had once been. And most of these people in the town of Crosby were old, or almost old, because this is the way the population of Maine had been for years. Some said that this was the problem, that there were no young folks to take these jobs. Others argued that the unemployment situation was happening not just in Maine but all across the country; some speculated that it was the opioid crisis, that people weren’t able to pass their drug test in order to work. And then others claimed that the younger generation was at fault; Malcolm Moody’s sixteen-year-old grandson, for example, had come to visit for three days and was playing videogames on his iPhone constantly. What could you do?

Nothing.

And then in October the foliage exploded, shattering the world with a goldenness. The sun shone down, and yellow leaves fluttered everywhere; it was a thing of beauty. The days were cold and at night it rained, but in the morning there was the sun again, and all the glory of the natural world twinkled and nestled itself around the town of Crosby. The clouds that were low in the sky would suddenly block out the sun, and then just as quickly the clouds would part and it was as though a bright light had been turned on and the sky was blue and bright again with the yellow and orange leaves floating quietly to the ground.

*

A thought had taken hold of Olive Kitteridge on one of these days in October, and she pondered it for almost a week before she called Bob Burgess. “I have a story to tell that writer Lucy Barton. I wish you would have her come visit me.”

The story was one that Olive had been reflecting on with more and more frequency, and she thought—as people often do—that if her story could be told to a writer, maybe it could be used in a book one day. Olive did not know if Lucy was a famous writer or not quite a famous writer, but she decided it did not matter. The library always had a long wait list for Lucy’s books, so Olive had ordered them from the bookstore instead, and she read through them, and something made her think that this Lucy might like—or could possibly use—the story Olive had to tell.

So on this particular autumn day, the yellow leaves of the tree seen through Olive’s large windowed back doorway were quivering to the ground as she waited for Lucy Barton to show up. Olive, sitting in her wingback chair, saw two chickadees and a titmouse at her feeder. She leaned forward and spotted a squirrel. Olive rapped her knuckles against the window, hard, and the squirrel scurried away. “Hah,” said Olive, sitting back. She hated squirrels. They ate her flowers, and they were always bothering her birds.

Olive found her glasses on the small table next to her and picked up her big cordless phone, which was also on the table, and pressed some numbers on it.

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