<p>hmmm…We read Before I go To Sleep here and as I recall, I didn’t especially like that one!</p>
<p>Munro’s use of the word “trash” stuck out for me…fine things become trash when you can’t remember their usefulness/value.</p>
<p>hmmm…We read Before I go To Sleep here and as I recall, I didn’t especially like that one!</p>
<p>Munro’s use of the word “trash” stuck out for me…fine things become trash when you can’t remember their usefulness/value.</p>
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<p>It crossed my mind but I decided no. At first I figured most likely Jackson’s impotence ruled it unlikely but also checked out the timeline like Mary did. It didn’t work: Jackson would know he has a child waiting with Ileane for him. Though when it did cross my mind to wonder, I thought like father, like daughter. Candace slips away and her mother has no idea where she is. It’s not really any better for Ileane that Jackson isn’t the father; Ileane has had some rough blows with loved ones slipping out of her life. It seems she deserves better.</p>
<p>I find I have little to say about Nancy’s story. I feel ambivalent about it overall - not a favorite nor one I particularly dislike. I assumed early on she has dementia; I would have been more surprised if the events were actually happening.</p>
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<p>It’s the same with me, and I know why I feel that way. The story aims to pack an emotional wallop and hits the mark because we discover–with a powerful sense of growing uneasiness–that Nancy’s experiences take place within a dementia-related dream. So on that level Munro succeeds masterfully. But I find that I have no motivation to then go on and analyze the dream. Analyzing dreams in real-life is so much futile guesswork—not to mention tedious if you’re listening to someone else’s dream. Analyzing the dream of a fictional character–with dementia no less–just seems like a fruitless endeavor. We know few details of Nancy’s past life, or the circumstances of how and when she came to be where she is, or who the important people in her life are. How could I even guess at the identity/meaning of the black-clad dream gardener in the dream garden full of dream daisies and phlox?</p>
<p>Maybe ignatius feels differently. If I recall correctly, dream sequences are her absolute favorite part of every novel. :)</p>
<p>^^^ </p>
<p>Ha! Nothing wrong with your memory.</p>
<p>Very impressive, Mary!</p>
<p>One more observation about “In Search of the Lake”: Both Nancy’s dream and her reality carry on the theme of losing someone/being lost that we have seen in many of the preceding stories. In the dream, Nancy has literally lost her way. In her waking reality, she has lost herself.</p>
<ol>
<li>“Dolly.”</li>
</ol>
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<p>This story made me laugh. Yes, I thought the narrator’s reaction was overblown. I guess I’m guilty of ageism because I kept thinking, “Such shenanigans at their age!” What is incongruous about the story is that it opens with the narrator and Franklin acting as if they have one foot in the grave–carefully planning a joint suicide no less–and then after Dolly enters the picture, they behave like they’re 16 years old.</p>
<p>I felt this story offered a bit of a rest from some of the disturbing themes. Yes, it opens with the plan for a double suicide and it raises issues of getting to a certain age, but there are no children getting hurt, exploitive relationships, unbearable losses, and so on. Finally, we have a couple coming together at the end who truly value each other.</p>
<p>“Dolly” made my dislike list. So suicide plans are put on hold for sundry reasons, including: </p>
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<p>And then comes the drama of Dolly - drama created by the narrator. I think that “such shenanigans at their age!” (thanks, Mary) is exactly what the narrator wants. I assume she needs the emotion, the angst, the importance of it all … otherwise, what’s behind it. Certainly, the events do not warrant her reactions. Drama queen, much? Franklin seems a decent sort of man. (And just for the record, Dolly plans to abandon her junkie daughter and the grandchildren she watches at the end of the story.) </p>
<p>The twist at the end of the story: nothing disturbing happens (except possibly in the narrator’s script of events).</p>
<p>“Dolly plans to abandon her junkie daughter and the grandchildren…”</p>
<p>Ha! I missed that, ignatius. I was so ready for a happy ending. And Dolly is reluctant to move in with the other daughter, not because of the grandchildren, but bc she would have to give up smoking.</p>
<p>ok, my day is ruined!</p>
<p>I mostly enjoyed this story, though I was prepared to dislike Frank for dragging his wife into a double suicide. I think we often have sort of odd inappropriate reactions to old boyfriends and girlfriends either our own, or those of spouses, so the whole idea of overreacting didn’t bother me. I thought it funny though that what seems ultimately to turn the narrator around is the memory of an affair she had in the town where she has run off to - an affair with a married man and she didn’t care about the wife and probable kids. It made me think less of her. And yet somehow the memory of her own imperfectness is what makes her realize she can go back to Franklin and that she can trust him completely, more than she can trust herself.</p>
<p>Well Dolly, is obviously very flawed, but I think it’s quite possible that as Frank said, she may take her grandkids with her wherever it is she’s going.</p>
<p>Agree with you, mathmom, that it is the memory of the narrator’s own affair that turns things around. It contrasts with Train, where the return of Ileane into Jackson’s life causes him to flee further. In this story, the couple are shaken up by the past but get back on track. And on another note, maybe Dolly did take the grandkids with her :)</p>
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<p>My theory is that she creates an absurd amount of drama in order to stave off death. Jealousy! Betrayal! Running away! It all makes her feel alive – too immersed in emotional chaos to go back to planning double suicide. She calls their suicide arrangements “a clearheaded, you might almost say a lighthearted decision,” but I don’t think she’s one bit ready (nor should she be, at age 71).</p>
<p>Franklin must have been able to read his woman well – well enough to know that she would be having ridiculous, far-fetched ideas about his attraction to Dolly and he uses that knowledge to toy with her. He drags out his little act about Dolly’s “aura” (and ends it with a bad metaphor: “It just strikes like an eclipse or something.” Just how good a poet is this guy? :)) So yes, he seems a decent enough man, but not above playing a little trick on his wife.</p>
<p>Actually, she’s not his wife, is she? I wonder why not. From her conversation with Dolly, when she asks about Dolly’s family:</p>
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<p>Yes, I’d meant to comment on that, and I kept forgetting they weren’t married, since they were so obviously married! Actually though all these stories take place in some past there are a couple where the free love sixties seems to have played at least some role in the character’s actions or past actions.</p>
<p>^^^</p>
<p>Alice Munro moved in with her second husband:</p>
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<p>A review of Lives of Mothers & Daughters: Growing Up with Alice Munro - Sheila Munro:</p>
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<p>and an interesting article:</p>
<p><a href=“http://www.nytimes.com/2013/07/02/books/alice-munro-puts-down-her-pen-to-let-the-world-in.html?_r=0[/url]”>http://www.nytimes.com/2013/07/02/books/alice-munro-puts-down-her-pen-to-let-the-world-in.html?_r=0</a></p>
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<p>I totally agree.</p>
<p>^ Great articles! And a perfect segue into the last four stories, which, writes Alice Munro, “are not quite stories.”</p>
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<p>From the New York Times article that ignatius posted: “There will be no more books after ‘Dear Life,’ she said, and the four autobiographical stories that conclude the book — retellings, in a way, of ones with which she began her career — will be her last. ‘Put your money on it,’ she said.”</p>
<p>We can wrap up our discussion by looking at these as a group – there’s a lot of overlap between them.</p>
<ol>
<li> “The Eye.”</li>
<li> “Night.”</li>
<li> “Voices.”</li>
<li> “Dear Life.”</li>
</ol>
<p>Of the four, I liked “The Eye” the best. It seemed more tightly constructed than the final three, which were rather fluid and less like short stories. I liked Sadie. Things didn’t end well for her, but by the time I reached this point in Dear Life, I had no illusions.</p>
<p>Munro’s parental issues came through strongly in the last three stories – pictures of an affected and judgmental mother and a father who regularly used the razor strap and the belt on his daughter. In the end, I think Munro was able to reflect on their lives with understanding, if not affection.</p>
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Totally agree. My initial reaction to the narrator’s running away was, “Really? You’re running off after a girlfriend from so long ago shows up?” But then, as you say, I realized the narrator was taking action, doing something, living! </p>
<p>I remember reading the narrator’s comment about Franklin not being her official husband and thinking, “What?” Of course then I forgot about it again … Interesting info about Munro’s own life.</p>
<p>Unfortunately I think I am going to have to bow out of the rest of this discussion. Something sad happened and I’m all shook up. A lady I got to know through CC just passed away. A mutual friend wrote a loving tribute in the Theatre/Drama Majors forum.</p>
<p><a href=“http://talk.collegeconfidential.com/theater-drama-majors/1589257-tribute-ugadog99-her-sudden-passing.html[/url]”>http://talk.collegeconfidential.com/theater-drama-majors/1589257-tribute-ugadog99-her-sudden-passing.html</a></p>
<p>^^^ NJTM: I almost cross-posted with you. I am so sorry. I’ll go to the link you posted. Mourn your CC friend. </p>
<p>Another interview:</p>
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<p>I think Munro was harsh regarding her mother. The narrator (Munro) comes across as a dissatisfied child critical of everything her mother does - how she dresses, talks, cooks. I saw a young mother who has all the foibles Munro disparages but one who wants more for herself - and her daughter - than she herself grew up having. Times were hard but Munro attended school past the norm for her area - approval had to come from home. Her mother had MS by that time and children younger than Alice: many daughters would have been expected to stop their education and run the household. I guess I lost respect when she doesn’t go home for her mother’s last illness or funeral.</p>
<p>Rather than sympathy for Munro I thought “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child.”</p>
<p>Nothing has been said about the structure of Munro’s short stories.</p>
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<p>Whether or not I liked a story (content), I always liked the writing of it (style).</p>