<p>Here is another apropos quote by Professor May. It mentions William Trevor, one of my favorite short story authors:</p>
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<p>Elsewhere in the same essay, May praises another short story writer I admire, Daniyal Mueenuddin.</p>
<p>[Reading</a> the Short Story: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie](<a href=“Reading the Short Story: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie]Reading”>Reading the Short Story: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie)</p>
<p>Regarding the review of “Amundsen” in post #18:</p>
<p>A good review of the short story but …</p>
<p>I don’t want to have to work that hard to understand a short story. </p>
<p>This is me:</p>
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<p>This is not me:</p>
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<p>I love to read: sometimes I like “mind candy” and sometimes I like to be stretched. At no point do I want to read a short story three times to plumb its depths. I’m debating whether or not to feel bad about myself due to this admission.</p>
<p>Ignatius - Don’t feel bad. You just did a good job of expressing how I feel. Most of the stories just didn’t grab me. When I think about the book the first story I remember is In Sight of the Lake and that was the one I disliked the most. It was a very frusrtating story to read. I guess I just missed the deeper meaning to the different stories. I probably shouldn’t have left it to the last minute…</p>
<p>ignatius, LOL. I feel much the same way! I have never been a big short story fan, despite having suggested this selection. I think I read because I like to hang around with interesting characters and short stories always end up making me feel like I didn’t get enough to eat. And when it comes right down to it, the concerns of many short story writers in general, and Munro in particular just don’t interest me that much. I’ve read a lot of short stories that read like extended jokes (O Henry and many sci fi stories fall into this category.) </p>
<p>Some off the cuff reactions more later - I need to get back to work!</p>
<p>To Reach Japan - very mixed feelings. I found much of what happened on the train unconvincing, and too obviously symbolic, but there was something sort of interesting about Greta’s resolve to be a good mother and then her immediate probably backing away from that decision when she gets met at the train station by Mr. I won’t kiss you. I’m not sure what to make of Katy getting lose, but then not going anywhere - somewhat the same thing she did on the train though.</p>
<p>Amundsen - I thought the narrator dodged the bullet with the doctor. But the whole business of not really ever getting over your first love even after you’ve moved on. Yeah, that’s true. </p>
<p>Leaving Maverly - just seemed pointless to me</p>
<p>Gravel - I kind of liked. At least it stayed with me. I had a relative who died in a stupid way, which might have been an accident and might have been suicide, and it still gets me from time to time - the why of what he did. The impossibility of knowing.</p>
<p>Haven - just didn’t move me. I couldn’t get away from that family fast enough.</p>
<p>I can’t say that I want to re-read any of the stories. They all had something about them that bothered me, sometimes to the point of feeling horrified, a la Stephen King. The first story that comes to mind for me is, well, the first story, To Reach Japan. Initially, I hated it. I didn’t like how Munro manipulated my fears (of what happened to the little girl), but then I began to think it was pretty masterful how she captured my attention in such a short time and provoked that kind of response. So I just went along with it to see where each of the stories would take me.</p>
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<p>I thought that story was very interesting because of its themes of who is trapped (and how) and who is not. </p>
<p>Leah originally seemed trapped, but Ray the policemen helped her glimpse a larger world by talking to her about the movies. Surprisingly, she thereafter managed to escape the small town. Her relationship with her children’s father fell apart, and she made mistakes, one of which was apparently the seduction of her own father-in-law, leading to the loss of custody of her children.</p>
<p>Leah became an “expert at losing,” but she was a survivor.</p>
<p>The policeman, Ray, had a very loving relationship with his wife, but she became ill and could not have children and became an invalid. So, in a way, Ray was trapped, for a number of years. </p>
<p>At the time of Isabel’s death, Ray ran into Leah, who was now a sort of physical therapist. Leah seemed to be able to provide insights on survivorship, and you got the feeling that Ray might have a chance for a new life with Leah.</p>
<p>As with the other stories, I appreciated a number of the details, such as the descriptions of how Leah looked at different times, and how Ray tried to get the nurses to keep using Isabel’s name, and Isabel’s encounter with the jazz musician husband:</p>
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<p>Juicy Fruit gum! Land sakes!..LOL</p>
<p>I don’t want Ray to have a new life with Leah! She’s bad news!</p>
<p>Actually, I thought the minister getting up in front of his congregation to testify to how Leah changed his life was sort of hilarious. She was a free spirit, that’s for sure.</p>
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<p>Ah, you can’t fool me, ignatius. Lo these many years, I have seen you work very, very hard–re-reading lengthy passages, chapters and entire books (The Orchardist?). I think that for whatever reason, Munro’s work is not compelling enough for multiple re-reads – at least that’s the case for many of us here; clearly, her stories are endlessly re-readable for Professor May. </p>
<p>Rather than roam, let’s take the stories in order. We don’t have to delve deeply into each one (no re-reading required ;)), but maybe if we go chronologically, we’ll see some sort of pattern emerge, or themes that build on one another. I have to believe that an author of short stories thinks long and hard about the placement of those stories in the final version of the book.</p>
<p>So…</p>
<ol>
<li> “To Reach Japan.”</li>
</ol>
<p>I agree 100% with psychmom on the “discomfort” level of the story. When Greta left Katy alone, I started to squirm. When she couldn’t find her, I, too, was afraid of a horrific ending. Apart from the horror aspect, I’m not a big fan of adulterous interludes on trains (or anywhere else). Initially, I wondered why Munro began on that note, but after finishing the stories, it made more sense to me:</p>
<ul>
<li><p>Greta and Katy are a mother and daughter with a difficult relationship. This is apparent even though Katy is so young. She judges her mother. By the end, she is aloof, estranged. Greta “was trying to hang on to Katy but at this moment the child pulled away and got her hand free” (p. 30). The troubled mother-daughter dynamic appears many times in Dear Life. The collection is bookended with stories of mothers and daughters who are at odds, who have “lost” each other.</p></li>
<li><p>Greta is trying to break free from the restraints of a marriage and a culture that will not let her express herself creatively or sexually. She is punished–or nearly punished–for being a sexual woman instead of an asexual mother. Women who act in ways that are not condoned by society, and who suffer for that behavior, appear repeatedly in the stories. </p></li>
</ul>
<p>Not to jump too far ahead, but compare “To Reach Japan” with “Leaving Maverly” and then “Gravel.” In all three cases, the mother defies convention, expresses her (wanton) sexuality, and loses her child. In “Leaving Maverly,” it’s not only Leah who is punished for her sexuality, but Isabel as well. She scandalizes the community by divorcing her husband for Ray. She then becomes ill and cannot have children. “She joked about God punishing her for her amorous adventure and said that he, God, was wasting his time when she didn’t even believe in him” (p. 70). Isabel’s observation brings us right back to the first story, when Greta reflects, “A sin. She had given her attention elsewhere. Determined, foraging attention to something other than the child. A sin” (p. 28).</p>
<p>As we go from story to story, I think we’ll continue to find this skillful weaving of ideas.</p>
<p>To Reach Japan kept surprising me. While Peter and Greta didn’t seem to have a lot in common, I didn’t feel like he knew they were breaking up. Then we had that little step into the past hinting at more dissatisfaction with the state of her marriage than we’ve been led to believe up to that point. Then back to the train, where I felt like Greg was supposed to be some force of chaos/life that at first seemed aimed at just helping her enjoy being with her kid, but then flipped to something more erotic, maybe just helping her to enjoy life more. To be less careful and controlled. It seemed like everytime I knew where that story was going it would veer off at a different angle.</p>
<p>I do think there’s a fair amount of contrasting careful observer type personalities with more vivid chaotic active ones. Leah vs nearly everyone else, Mary vs the doctor and the narrator in Amundsen, Greta vs Greg.</p>
<p>Good point about Isabel being punished, Mary. </p>
<p>One thing I have noticed about these stories is that there are no characters who are “bad” or evil, per se. Some are flawed, yes, but none are villainous.</p>
<p>I agree about the careful observers vs the vivid, chaotic characters also. Mathmom, do you think that other characters in the vivid category would be: Caro in “Gravel,” Oneida in “Pride,” Corrie in “Corrie,” Belle in “Train,” Dolly in “Dolly” and Sadie in “The Eye”?</p>
<p>Yes, to all of those though some more than others. It just seemed to me that in an awful lot of the stories the chaotic character acts as a catalyst on the careful one to make some sort of change in their lives, though sometimes that change seems to be only temporary.</p>
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<p>I think this dynamic plays a large part in Munro’s life. Here she talks about her relationship with her daughters and later in the interview about her relationship with her mother:</p>
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<p>From the same interview:</p>
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<p>I see hints of Greta from “To Reach Japan” here, along with other female characters. The women in particular seem to jump into a relationship for almost no reason. Greta knows neither of the men with whom she involves herself. Her actions just seem so arbitrary to me. I do not particularly like “To Reach Japan”. It leaves me with an unsatisfied feeling - neither understanding nor liking the young mother. I need some context as to why she acts as she does and it isn’t there.</p>
<p>I have been thinking about the humor in the stories. It certainly could be called black humor, most of the time, but it is there.</p>
<p>I’d like to hear a reading of Alice Munro stories by a good actor, or even by Munro herself. My younger son is an actor, and the humor he finds in things on the page that I had never even noticed when I was reading the text is often amazing.</p>
<p>This article mentions that Alice Munro’s readings can often be “flat-out funny”:</p>
<p>[Alice</a> Munro, Cinderella Story](<a href=“Alice Munro, Cinderella Story”>Alice Munro, Cinderella Story)</p>
<p>I already said, in a post above, that I thought that Leah’s seduction of the minister was kind of humorous. </p>
<p>Here are other characters and situations that I would categorize the same way:</p>
<ul>
<li>Mary in “Amundsen.”</li>
<li>Caro’s shenanigans with the dog in “Gravel” (I know, I know…but you’ve gotta admit the absurdity).</li>
<li>The narrator being embarrassed at first by the raunchy British comedy shows he watched with Oneida in “Pride.”</li>
<li>The assertion that Corrie’s bad leg made people not suspect that she was someone’s mistress.</li>
<li>Belle’s frank speech following her surgery in “Train.”</li>
<li>Dolly in “Dolly.”</li>
<li>The anecdote in “The Eye” about not knowing that Sadie’s coffin was a coffin. Some of the aspects of Sadie’s persona and the way they discomfited the mom.</li>
<li>The mom’s terrified hiding from Mrs Netterfield in “Dear Life.”</li>
</ul>
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<p>I agree. In particular, Sadie and Dolly are characters full of life and eccentricities, who enter staid households and shake things up.</p>
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<p>ignatius, thanks for posting that interview. I had thought when reading the stories that Munro was simply channeling the anger she felt toward her mother, but now I see that she is also working through guilt about the attention she gave her own children. Munro’s quote above is bittersweet to me. Although the fictional women in her stories may be extreme in their actions/relationships, I think their thoughts and experiences tap into that little vein of guilt that many mothers feel, especially after the children are grown and there is time to reflect on missed opportunities.</p>
<p>I really love the idea of taking each story in order, describing our general impressions while linking the common themes. These posts are so illuminating - just don’t expect me to contribute much - I do not have the memory! I may end up re-reading some sections after my disclaimer that I wouldn’t. Anyway, thanks for the insights…really enjoying this!</p>
<p>Psychmom, I always feel that I have to do some rereading in order to be able to discuss anything. I forget so much, too! When it’s a book I like, I am happy to re-read. When it’s one I don’t like too much, I just can’t get myself to go back and do it.</p>
<p>I was disappointed in The Orchardist and promptly forgot so much about the book that when y’all were discussing it, I often thought, “What the heck are they talking about?”</p>
<p>NJTheatreMOM, I’m glad you pointed out the humor in Munro’s stories. I wasn’t really attuned to that. I think I respond better to audio/visual humor. (For example, reading a Billy Collins poem to myself might elicit a ghost of a smile, but I always laugh out loud when I hear him read his own stuff.)</p>
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<p>Perfect timing as I was just about to move on to #2!</p>
<ol>
<li> “Amundsen.”</li>
</ol>
<p>We’ve already talked about this story, but a line caught my eye in “Amundsen” that again reflects an idea seen in the other stories: that of being lost. In “To Reach Japan,” Katy, of course, is lost. And near the end of that story, Greta posts a letter to Peter from “the little lost town of Hornpayne” (p. 28).</p>
<p>In “Amundsen,” the meat woman says to Vivien, “The way you were just standing there looked like you were lost” (p. 33). Actually, Vivien is not lost. (“I said that I had stopped because it was so beautiful.”) I think in this story it is Dr. Fox who is lost – he can’t find his way out of his cold, isolated existence (think how cold he keeps his house), dealing with death on a daily basis. Is it not telling that two of the books on his shelf are The Donner Party and Shackleton Caught in the Ice? What did you think of his other books? Why so many military texts?:</p>
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<p>The detailed description of Dr. Fox’s books, his home, his mannerisms, his bachelorhood and his “one eye crooked to the other” made me think of this quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson:</p>
<p>A man is known by the books he reads, by the company he keeps, by the praise he gives, by his dress, by his tastes, by his distastes, by the stories he tells, by his gait, by the notion of his eye, by the look of his house, of his chamber; for nothing on earth is solitary but every thing hath affinities infinite.</p>
<p>I didn’t understand why Dr Fox was so mean to Mary when she burst in on him and Vivien with the cookies. Did anybody else understand this?</p>
<p>I thought it was more than just not wanting his time with Vivian intruded upon.</p>
<p>It made me think there was a backstory with Mary that we were not privy to. Nothing improper, mind you, but…I was thinking about the stories Mary told Vivien about the outings that the doctor took her and Anabel on. Maybe he had valued Mary mostly as a companion for the dying Anabel, and was too impatient to put up with her as an individual?</p>
<p>Dr Fox may have liked reading military texts because he was such a controlling person. Fantasies of much more far-reaching control?</p>