<p>Psychmom, I have heard comments that last night’s Sound of Music was valuable because it provided good opportunities for the performers, but I couldn’t bring myself to try watching it!</p>
<p>Very good observations about “Haven.” There is certainly plenty to discuss in these stories. </p>
<p>In the case of the brother and the mom you mentioned, it seems more like a pendulum swing than anything else.</p>
<p>Got the book late–almost done! </p>
<p>Latecomers in Red Sox Nation must think alike, because I’m with CBBBlinker: I didn’t like Greta and thought the last sentence referred to her, not Katy (though rereading I can see the ambiguity), I didn’t see Ray getting together with Leah (that idea would ruin the story for me–I liked Ray, but then, I liked the Orchardist, too, mathmom!), and I thought the narrator in “Gravel” was female. Maybe that’s because I’m listening to a lot of the book on an audio version that has both a female and male narrator, and that story used the female voice. Also, I can’t imagine anyone in Munro’s world sending a boy to play with a dollhouse! (In the spirit of equality, we once bought our boys a dollhouse, which was mostly used as a prop for their toy firetrucks. That dollhouse was perpetually on fire :))</p>
<p>Re: Haven–I don’t understand how living with Uncle Jasper made the narrator at all more sympathetic to his point of view. Because he and Aunt Dawn had fun sex? I found Jasper completely unlikeable. Why did he even attend the funeral? He didn’t like his sister, or her life, didn’t keep in touch with her, and didn’t even speak to her when he found she was in his house. Yet he goes to the funeral of a musician and disrupts the service, specifically to change the music more to his own liking! That struck me as worse than anything in his marriage; unlike Dawn, Mona couldn’t protest.</p>
<p>I thought of Winesburg, Ohio immediately, too, Mary! The small-town busybodies and misfits, secrets, things unsaid, sex, lots of loneliness. I’ve always liked Canada, but this book sure doesn’t make it seem very appealing!</p>
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<p>I like NJTM’s pendulum swing theory. I also think the example psychmom presented could be environmental influence. The parents are people who like to challenge the norm. They have raised their children to question authority and not blindly accept other people’s beliefs as their own. Isn’t the son doing exactly what his parents have taught him when he questions their beliefs and their authority?</p>
<p>I didn’t keep up yesterday. I am going to reread Pride, so I can be ready when we start that discussion. </p>
<p>Welcome back CBBBlinker.</p>
<p>buenavista - I am also part of Red Sox Nation. :)</p>
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<p>I think being absent from his own sister’s funeral – in the town where he lived and was a well-known person – would have been viewed as scandalous. Jasper did do something weird, but at least he was there.</p>
<p>I’d like to hear a good actor read “Haven.” Maybe I’m twisted, but I think what Jasper did at the funeral was kind of funny.</p>
<p>^^Hi buenavista, glad you made it!</p>
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<p>Me, too, especially when I read this passage: </p>
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<p>I’m starting to think that Jasper didn’t turn Dawn into such a timid thing; rather, that’s the way he found her, and it suited him to a T. And the same goes for her – she desired to be controlled and he filled that need. It’s a strange symbiotic relationship.</p>
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<p>I vote twisted. :)</p>
<p>Seriously, though, I bet the townspeople did find his antics entertaining – I imagine the eccentricities of their beloved doctor were the talk of the town. As an impartial observer, I would probably enjoy the show; as his wife, not so much.</p>
<ol>
<li> “Pride.”</li>
</ol>
<p>So as not to keep ignatius on edge, I’ll begin at the end and take a (figurative) stab at the skunks. </p>
<p>People normally give skunks a wide berth. They’re not dangerous, just potentially repulsive. I think that’s how the narrator believes other people see him. Oneida, however, isn’t the slightest bit repulsed by the skunks, just as she isn’t the slightest bit repulsed by the narrator. On the contrary, she finds them (and him) beautiful.</p>
<p>Skunks spray in order to keep their enemies at a distance. They use something “gross” to protect themselves. The narrator uses his harelip to keep people at a distance. He doesn’t improve it surgically, although he could. He lives in the town, but he is out of place there–like a skunk in a birdbath.</p>
<p>Dancing in the birdbath, the skunks are perfectly at ease in a home that is all wrong for them. They are able to do what Oneida and the narrator could not do: take an imperfect fit and make it work to their advantage. The skunks, unlike the narrator and Oneida, successfully join together as one, “never getting in each other’s way, so you could not tell how many there were, where each body started or stopped.” The narrator and Oneida both see the beauty in this, and for a moment they are in sync: “I thought she might say another thing, and spoil it, but no, neither of us did.”</p>
<p>The final line of the story is “We were as glad as we could be.” Like all things Munro, the line carries a certain ambiguity. it could mean that they were, at least briefly, supremely happy. Or it could mean that in that moment, they were as happy as they were capable of being, which in the end, isn’t very happy at all.</p>
<p>Mary, you’re brilliant. I wonder if Munro once actually saw baby skunks in a birdbath (such an unlikely-seeming thing – how would they get in there? – it must have been a low one) and constructed the whole story backwards from there.</p>
<p>Mary, I like your explanation of the skunks.</p>
<p>I also tried to decipher the symbolism of the skunks. I’m going to make 3 separate posts on this topic, instead of one long post.</p>
<p>First, I wondered if a group of skunks was called a pride, thinking it was added to the story to reflect the title. Well, that didn’t work because a group of skunks is called a surfeit. Here’s the definition of surfeit from google -</p>
<p>surfeit /ˈsərfət/
noun
noun: surfeit; plural noun: surfeits
1. an excessive amount of something.</p>
<pre><code>verb
verb: surfeit; 3rd person present: surfeits; past tense: surfeited; past participle: surfeited; gerund or present participle: surfeiting
1. cause (someone) to desire no more of something as a result of having consumed or done it to excess.
</code></pre>
<p><a href=“surfeit - Google Search”>surfeit - Google Search;
<p>I see this definition working for Oneida’s father and for the developers who keep adding to the town, but I’m not seeing it fit as well for Oneida and narrator. I can make it fit, but I keep thinking of surfeit more as “unnecessary excess” and it doesn’t work for me. Does anyone see it differently or see more?</p>
<p>Next I found this summary and review. [Reading</a> the Short Story: ?Pride? Alice Munro, Harper?s, April 2011.](<a href=“http://may-on-the-short-story.blogspot.com/2011/05/pride-alice-munro-harpers-april-2011.html]Reading”>Reading the Short Story: “Pride” Alice Munro, Harper’s, April 2011.)</p>
<p>Towards the bottom of the piece, when the author is finally reviewing the story, I found an explanation of the skunks that I liked. (I added the bold type) -</p>
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<p>My last look at the symbolism of the skunks brought me to this spiritual website. [Spiritual</a> Symbolism: Skunk](<a href=“http://spiritsymbols.blogspot.com/2012/09/skunk.html]Spiritual”>Spirit Symbols: Skunk) I lost track of my search path, but I believe it was a Wiccan site.</p>
<p>The definition of skunk from this site is all about respect. I don’t know how legitimate this interpretation is, but here you go. (The words in bold are from the original author.) - </p>
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<p>Just wow…love the skunk interpretations! Thanks, Mary and BUandBC!</p>
<p>Some thoughts on Pride: I thought this was another tale of survival. Both Oneida and the narrator are isolated; Oneida is portrayed as naive regarding her downward-spiraling circumstances, while the narrator holds onto bitter awareness and pride. However, it is she who reaches out to make connections and is more realistic, so who really is the more naive?</p>
<p>Oneida is able to “save face” with prideful men. First, she is the chauffeur for her father, and then her attentions turn to the narrator. I like her nurturing qualities.</p>
<p>There is a theme in the story of moving forward vs. clinging to the past. Oneida’s father’s decision to resurrect a nostalgic car ends up leading to his downfall. The narrator is held in place by his deformity. Oneida is the one who is most capable in moving forward, thinking ahead to sell her house (albeit naively), traveling to various places, and even trying out e-mail. (The time scale of this story goes into decades rather quickly.)</p>
<p>I thought the symbolic skunks were kind of slapped down at the end…I guess I would have preferred more subtle skunks?! Anyway, they replace the birds, which are conventionally beautiful and draw viewers in. Now I am thinking of Blitzee in Gravel…will keep a look-out for more animal symbols!</p>
<p>I’m enjoying all these very interesting reflections!</p>
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<p>“Surfeit” is an apt word because there really were a lot of skunks in that birdbath—an excessive amount! Why so many? Why not just one or two? Perhaps it is to suggest that the narrator and Oneida, although they may feel isolated (as psychmom pointed out), the truth is we are all “skunks” – communities made up of flawed and “smelly” individuals who nonetheless manage to bond with each another. I think the narrator gradually comes to a realization of this after talking to the tenant in his new apartment building (p. 150):</p>
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<p>I like “Pride” - the word bittersweet comes to mind. I found the end annoying more than anything. </p>
<p>psychmom words it well:
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<p>The skunks pulled me away from the story. They scream “symbolism” - deep meaning. Munro usually writes with more subtlety. I didn’t want to ponder skunks. I wondered, as did NJTM, if Munro actually saw skunks in a birdbath and filed the memory for later use. Regardless, I like the interpretations given by Mary and BUandBC.</p>
<p>And speaking of totally random (but with no deeper meaning): the short story reminded me that I needed to replace some of my Oneida flatware. It happened to be on sale, so regardless of bittersweet stories and seemingly random skunks, all’s good here.</p>
<p>I wondered if the story had started with her observing the skunk family and she thought I have to make use of this somewhere. For a while we had a skunk family that lived somewhere behind our garage. They would slither across our backyard en masse, looking more like one alien being than a group. These skunks area bit bedraggled, but similar to this: [Skunk</a> family! - YouTube](<a href=“Skunk family! - YouTube”>Skunk family! - YouTube)</p>
<p>This story left me feeling unsettled. Two people stuck in patterns of the past unable to get past their histories or perceived disabilities, acting almost like a married couple, but never going on to the next step. Then the illness makes Oneida want to take the next step, but our narrator panics, but in a way that echoes Oneida’s previous actions when she sold her house. He even ends up in the apartment building she lives in after she sells her house. Midway through the story when a random college girl suggests he look into improving his hare lip surgery, he says “But how could I explain that it was just beyond me to walk into some doctor’s office and admit that I was wishing for something he hadn’t got?” That’s the crux of his life. He’s stuck because he won’t take a risk, and even the unplanned moves he makes, like selling his house, don’t move him anywhere. It’s like he moves in spirals always ending right back where he started. </p>
<p>I feel like the end of the story is saying and that’s okay. We don’t all need to do anything, there can be pleasure in the little things too. But I don’t know, his life seems sooooo small. Oneida at least goes on occasional trips, even if she always seems to come back too. Her spirals are bigger.</p>
<p>I found the story unsettling too, mathmom. It was probably my least favorite, but I think it was a good story anyway.</p>
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<p>I agree. This is what I really like about Munro – her acceptance and compassion.</p>
<p>mathmom, thanks for the video. I live in squirrel country, so couldn’t quite picture skunks en masse. I can now understand how “you could not tell how many there were, where each body started or stopped”! </p>
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<p>I agree completely. I wondered at times what it was that Oneida saw in him. It’s clear he sees nothing in himself. I think he is paralyzed by self-pity and low self-esteem.</p>
<p>When I started “Pride,” I read the two opening paragraphs in ignorance, as I did not know the characters yet. When I re-read the story, I realized that when the narrator describes the two types of people in this world “who get everything wrong,” he is describing Oneida and himself. He sees Oneida as the first type, who, despite her mistakes, is able to live out her life “in a town like ours where nothing is forgotten” and remain “hearty and jovial.” He sees himself as the second type:</p>
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<p>Our various posts about the narrator’s life and about skunk metaphors stirred a sleeping literary tidbit in my brain that I could not quite being to the forefront. Suddenly, a few words came to me and I looked up the complete quote. It’s from Thoreau’s Walden. You may recognize it. In any case, I think you’ll see why it popped into my mind when thinking about the narrator and the final scene of “Pride”:</p>
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<li> “Corrie.” </li>
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<p>From the discussion questions posted earlier:</p>
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<li><p>As in “Pride,” a man underestimates a woman who is attached to him: discuss what is different about the motivations and desires of the characters in the two stories.</p></li>
<li><p>How surprising is it when Corrie realizes that Howard has been keeping the money supposedly meant for Lillian’s blackmail payments? How does Corrie figure this out? How do you interpret the final paragraph?</p></li>
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<p>Re #1, I don’t think it’s fair to even mention the narrator of “Pride” and Howard from “Corrie” in the same breath. The narrator of “Pride” may be guilty of inertia, but he is not cheating on his wife and stealing from his mistress. </p>
<p>Re #2, I interpret the final paragraph as meaning that Corrie intends to continue on with the affair as if nothing had happened. To which I want to shout, “Girlfriend, are you nuts? Howard is bad news.” I don’t believe he loved her at all, not for a minute.</p>
<p>It’s interesting that Munro chose to juxtapose “Pride” and “Corrie,” two stories of middle-aged people with disfigurements/disabilities who have little or no sense of self-worth.</p>
<p>One thing in “Corrie” that I did not understand was the strange joke about the magnifying glass in Corrie’s postcard from Egypt. </p>
<p>Apart from the money he was actually stealing from her, what attracted Howard to Corrie? I think it had something to do with his fascination with the way she lived and the ability her money gave her to be free, and freely available.</p>
<p>When he first saw her old house (which, oddly to me, seemed to need to be heated at least partially by fires that Corrie had trouble setting), he thought it was hideous. In later years, he loved it!</p>
<p>Howard was more conservative than his wife, and he had grown more conservative over the years. He had to hide his persistent belief in God from her…and she was more adventurous than Corrie in bed! </p>
<p>I think being part of Corrie’s world gave Howard relief from pressures of his own life. Of course it was nice to be paid for his companionship, once he thought up the fake blackmail scheme…but he did take up with Corrie quite some time before that, and he would probably keep on with her after Lillian Wolfe died.</p>