Tag Archives: Alice Munro

Mini Reviewlets: Munro Immersion

The blog has been more fallow than its usual don’t-call-it-climate-change-it’s-just-fallow state because I’m working on a long term writing project. On Alice Munro.

For money.

I haven’t been paid for my writing since we thought our computers would snap us back to the Iron Age. That dark millennial moment I took a “break” from  journalism to “get smarter” in grad school.

And on Alice Munro? Even cooler than the fluff piece I wrote back then on the Stanford Linear Accelerator. Which is to say: quantum cool.

So here’s a teaser of Munroviana to tide us over.

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There is an Order to the Universe After All

You know how sometimes someone really, really deserves something? And then gets it?

 

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The Riddle of Alice Munro

One riddle: as I sit down to write this review of her latest, Dear Life, why do I keep toggling back to read about Lena Dunham?!?!?!?

Why oh why?!

Another riddle: why is she so cryptic in this interview?

Ms. Munro, whom everyone nearly beatifies but no one puts on any glossy lit magazine covers, do you consider yourself a feminist writer?

I never think about being a feminist writer, but of course I wouldn’t know. I don’t see things all put together in that way. I do think it’s plenty hard to be a man. Think if I’d had to support a family, in those early years of failure?

MUNRO, JUST USE THE DAMN WORD. It won’t hurt anyone.

You write about the women’s movement changing culture. You write about women after it, and before it. Women who needed it and didn’t have it. Women who came up short against it, or who benefited from it and still lost some of themselves anyway.

Damn enigmatic genius

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Smart Girls (Alice Munro Review)

I finished this book this weekend:

It’s a cycle of stories about Del Jordan, a smartypants in rural Ontario in the 40s and 50s, trying to figure out how to grow up by closely observing the women in her life. The book’s title is a convenient summary of Munro’s entire oeuvre. However, this book feels younger than her later work in some surprising ways.

I love Alice Munro. I love rich stories about smart girls. I love feminism. I loved this book. But it surprised me.

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