After reading Orange World, Karen Russell’s 2006 collection, St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves, struck a different chord with me. One pattern this collection follows is the open ending, which are used to get readers asking, What happens next?
While Orange World explores the theme of moving on and continuing to live in a dangerous world, a decision that often comes with a definitive ending, St. Lucy’s stories tend to present a fantastical tale, give the details, and then leave it open for the characters to wonder what to do next. Because of this, the collection, and “Haunting Olivia” as just one of the many stories included in it, feel so close to the theme of grief: when we’re faced with the world’s unanswered questions up close, it’s nearly impossible to guess what to do next, should the worst happen.
Death, in particular is the main focus of many of these stories—whether it’s physical death (“Haunting Olivia”), the death of a marriage (“Children’s Reminiscences of the Westward Migration”), or the death of a culture (“St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves”). This theme is reinforced by numerous Biblical references and religious phrasings sprinkled throughout the text: references to specific Bible verses, the Olympian gods, and even a prophet named Elijah. “Haunting Olivia,” is a story that takes place in the aftermath of a drowning and includes a reference to Revelation 20:13,
And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them: and they were judged every man according to their works.
“Haunting Olivia,” interestingly enough, is not about the ghost of a little girl haunting her two brothers. Rather, it’s about the two brothers haunting their dead sister. When Timothy and Wallow agree to let their little sister have one more ride on the sled, neither of them realize that Olivia would drown in the surrounding water. Two years after this tragic event, the brothers are still searching for Olivia’s ghost in the water, when Wallow comes across a pair of “diabolical goggles” (Russell, 26) that allow them to see the ghosts of fish and other underwater creatures.
This twist on the typical haunting storyline points the reader directly to the main characters’ feelings of loss and regret, especially Wallow (whose nickname, fittingly, brings to mind the act of wallowing in the past, or in one’s own guilt/shame). As the one who gave Olivia her last push on the sled, Wallow blames himself for her death and seeks her out in order to make things right between them (or, within himself). When Timothy describes one of his nightmares involving Olivia being drowned by a giant, watery hand, Wallow responds with ire,
“Are you serious? That’s what you have nightmares about, bro? Some lame-ass Mickey Mouse glove that comes out of the sea?” His lip curled up, but there was envy in his voice, too. “I just see my own hands, you know? Pushing her down that hill.”
Wallow’s blame is one full display here, though disguised by anger. As a reader, I paused to take a breath at this moment because the image of Wallow’s two hands sending his sister off to her death is traumatizing. Later, when Wallow and Timothy are caught in a storm looking for the ghost, his regret resurfaces, this time in a gentler manner.
Wallow is standing at the prow of the sled. Each flash of lightning limns his bared teeth, the hollows of his eyes. It’s as if somebody up there were taking an X-ray of grief, again and again. “I just want to tell her that I’m sorry,” Wallow says softly. He doesn’t know I’m awake. He’s talking to himself, or maybe to the ocean. There’s not a trace of fear in his voice. And it’s clear then that Wallow is a better brother than I could ever hope to be.
Though this sort of on-the-nose dialogue (“I just want to tell her that I’m sorry”) feels like telling, it shows that Wallow is desperate enough to search for Olivia’s ghost for two years, just to make sure she knows the depth of his regret.
The final portion of this paragraph sheds some light on Timothy’s thought process on all this. While the story mainly centers on Wallow, Timothy is the viewpoint character and first-person narrator, and he makes his discontent with the situation known. At first, he only pretends to search for Olivia’s ghost, but notably, Wallow injures his arm and can’t swim around the water with his cast. So, he forces Timothy to do the work instead, and as the search becomes more perilous, Timothy becomes more vocal about the situation.
Maybe Granana is slightly off target when it comes to the Food Pyramid, but she has the right idea about death. I want my parents to stop sailing around taking pictures of Sudanese leper colonies. I want Wallow to row back to shore and sleep through the night. I want everybody in the goddamn family to leave Olivia here for dead.
Though this thought process comes at the end of a fight between Timothy and Wallow, and it sounds cold to wish that his family would “leave Olivia…for dead,” Timothy’s true feelings lie hidden in the frustration of this wording. He doesn’t want Olivia to be dead, but she is, and it’s time that they let her go.
Timothy’s inability to directly say what he is feeling creates “subterranean chasm,” a concept that Charles Baxter explains in The Art of Subtext (Baxter, 37). Timothy’s desire to just stop looking for Olivia hides his real desire: to let Olivia rest. Such a wish, to the rest of his family, seems unloving, but Timothy is just unable to communicate what he means, despite the words that he says.
In the end, neither Timothy or Wallow are able to find Olivia’s ghost, leading to the sad but memorable line: “Olivia could be everywhere” (Russell 48). Much like the story’s earlier subversion of the haunting storyline, where the living do the haunting and the dead have already moved on, this subversion of a common phrase, “could be anywhere,” is changed to indicate that the memory of Olivia will always stay with them.
The powerful lines of this story instill in the reader a feeling of true grief and loss, with only a few changes to a story that we all know. Every reader has encountered some sort of death/loss. And “Haunting Olivia” reminds us that sometimes, the living can haunt the dead if we aren’t careful.
Rachel Sandell 