"Runaway" (2004) - Eight Short Stories by Alice Munro (1931-), Canadien Author and Winner of the 2013 Nobel Prize For Literature

[DonRocks]

If anyone could commit to being my reading-discussion partner with "Runaway," I'd love to do something similar to what we're doing with "Troilus and Cressida" over in the theatre forum. Obviously, the more the merrier, but I need at least one person. I'd never read Alice Munro before she won last year's Nobel Prize for Literature (*), but from what little I've read so far, she is an astounding, amazing, unique writer - as Cynthia Ozick states in something of a hyperbolic fit: she is "Our Chekhov." Or, as Jonathan Franzen writes:

"Runaway is so good that I don't want to talk about it here. Quotation can't do the book justice, and neither can synopsis. The way to do it justice is to read it ... Which leaves me with the simple instruction that I began with: Read Munro! Read Munro!"

The eight stories are between 33 and 65 pages long, depending on which edition you have. This book is easily found in Barnes and Noble, and can be ordered in paperback from Amazon (the book pictured is the exact edition I have).

Having recently spent some time in Vancouver and Victoria, BC, this book is especially meaningful to me because Munro writes about "little things" from small-town British Columbia (this "Impressionist-like" celebration of local, ordinary life is what inspired Ozick's Chekhov comment, although Munro's laser-like prose is certainly not Impressionistic).

Unlike Shakespeare, we can't copy the text here which is a shame, but it's all we have to work with. 

Who's in? Let's begin with story #1: the eponymous "Runaway."

(*) It's such a shame Eudora Welty passed away before she, herself, won the prize.

[PappyVanWise]

Just borrowed the ebook from the local library, so I'm in for now.  It'll be nice to put my English degree to good use.

[DonRocks]

Just borrowed the ebook from the local library, so I'm in for now.  It'll be nice to put my English degree to good use.

Well then, seeing as though we can't reproduce the text here:

A general warning since I don't know what others will write: Every reader should consider every comment from now forward to be a Spoiler unless clearly marked otherwise. 

I urge people to read the first story ("Runaway") before reading the rest of this post. None of the other seven stories will be addressed here, so if you've only read the first story, you're safe to read this.

---

Let's start with the first story, "Runaway."

The question, The Question, is ...

1) Was Flora real? (At first, of course she was, but afterwards?)

Breaking it down further:

2) Did Flora actually appear to Sylvia and Clark?

If the answer to question 2) is "yes" (by no means a given):

3) Did Clark dispose of Flora on the way home?

Also, by no means a given.

In lesser hands, the essential plot of this story could have been a Twilight Zone episode (i.e., cheap, decently written fun and escapism); instead, it turns out to be the biggest Mind Fuck I can remember reading. I've heard Munro described as an author offering up sympathetic, hyper-realistic prose; by no means is that evident in "Runaway," the first story. This story is a psychological thriller, as well as about fifty other things.

I am left haunted by the combinatorics at play in this work. There are so many possibilities here as to what happened, and Munro played her hand brilliantly in leaving each one on the table as the story ends.

When I first purchased this book, I "cheated" by reading the shortest story ("Silence") first. That was a mistake - my gut feeling is that this is a symphony, and these "movements" need to be read in order. I might be wrong about this - time will tell (I purposely haven't read anything but the barest hint of critical discussion about this book because I don't want to spoil it for myself). I would urge you, gentle reader, to follow my instinct and forego these discussions until reading each corresponding story beforehand - I don't think the ordering of the book is random.

[DIShGo]

I found this to be a beautifully written story. I particularly like Munro's depiction of the inner turmoil Carla faces, while riding the bus to Toronto and after she returns to Clark.

After seeing your question about whether Clark and Sylvia actually saw Flora, or if it was simply part of Sylvia's dream, I reread that part of the story.  I believe Flora did return and the two witnessed it. I am glad, however, that I read that part of the story again. It is somewhat chilling if you read it and assume Clark is speaking about Carla instead of the goat. Every statement he makes about Flora actually is a commentary on Carla.

I also think Clark did something to Flora. Whether is was something sinister or simply leading her away, I don't know. What he did doesn't matter nearly as much as Carla's reaction to it. Her fear, which she eventually "got used to" and her unsettling resignation that she would never try to find out, are, for me, what makes this an eerily compelling story.

[DIShGo]

While I loved the first story, Runaway, I was underwhelmed by the trilogy that followed: Chance, Soon and Silence. The three stories follow the life of a character named Juliet. In the first story, Juliet is a young scholar traveling on a train where she meets Eric, the man who fathers her daughter, Penelope. In the second story, she takes Penelope to her parents' home where her mother is dying. In Silence, the third story, Juliet faces the death of Eric and is abandoned by her beloved Penelope.

I enjoyed Munro's writing style. Some of her phrases and imagery are striking. In Chance, I liked her depiction of putting the thing that was your bright treasure in the closet. Or in Soon, when she writes, "as if misfortunes were something to accumulate, like charms on a bracelet." I loved her description of her dream about her father and Irene: "The dream was suffused with sticky horror. Not the kind of horror that jostles its shape outside your skin, but the kind that curls through the narrowest passages of your blood."

Faith, or the lack of it, is a theme that ties the stories together. Perhaps my disappointment with this trilogy lies in my dislike of Juliet. In the third story, particularly, I found it astonishing that she finally learns of her daughter's whereabouts, but does nothing about it! As a mother, I couldn't stand that!

[DonRocks]

Faith, or the lack of it, is a theme that ties the stories together. Perhaps my disappointment with this trilogy lies in my dislike of Juliet. In the third story, particularly, I found it astonishing that she finally learns of her daughter's whereabouts, but does nothing about it! As a mother, I couldn't stand that!

I've finished the trilogy as well (although I read the final story last October as a standalone). I think there is an entire web of common motifs: Juliet herself and her relationships (1. with men 2. with her parents 3. with her daughter), acceptance and rejection, dependence and independence, life and death, and certainly parent-child. I find that in this trilogy, reading it on a surface level does no good, as the "tales" themselves aren't that interesting; it's the underlying literary components that contain both the challenges and the rewards.

Unlike me reviewing restaurants, Munro is not constrained by any sort of "truth" or recounting of events; she can write about anything she chooses. Why, then, did she pick Chagall's "I And The Village" as *The* painting in the second story. I really wish I took notes as I read - the description of the old Pontiac, for example, meant something, and I remember realizing it at the time, but now I can't remember what it means.  Why did Juliet's father choose to pick her up at the train station twenty miles from town?

There's a lot of meat in this trilogy, plenty of foreshadowing, metaphor (e.g., Sam's relationship with Irene), and everything ties in together. But this is work, not pure pleasure, and it's going to take some digging to uncover which is why I wanted to start this discussion group. I suspect piecing together the inter-story components of this trilogy will make it the most challenging thing in the entire book, like threading together the movements of a Sonata instead of listening to an Impromptu.

[DonRocks]

Unlike me reviewing restaurants, Munro is not constrained by any sort of "truth" or recounting of events; she can write about anything she chooses. Why, then, did she pick Chagall's "I And The Village" as *The* painting in the second story.

What's the animal in this painting?

What kind of animal is Flora?

We have not just a trilogy to deal with, but something larger than that.

[DIShGo]

I think Munro chose "I and the Village" as the painting in the second story for a number of reasons. Chagall is said to have painted it because it reminded him of his childhood village. It had the same significance for Juliet. The painting also is divided into thirds. Clearly groupings of three are very significant here. There are three stories about Juliet. She is involved in a love triangle with Eric and Christa. She is an only child, and she and Eric have one child.

Looking at the painting, I see her mother, the fair, sweet, fragile goat looking at her father, the man who sells vegetables and is clearly linked to the natural world depicted here. Juliet is the woman milking the goat. The man pursuing the upside down woman represents her father and Irene.

The fact that the print has been removed from the wall symbolizes the changes within her family since her departure and the arrival of Irene. Juliet feels threatened by Irene, and vice versa. "Everything here distracted her. The heat, Irene, the things that were familiar and the things that were unfamiliar. "I and the Village."

It is interesting that Sara is the one to explain that the picture was removed from the wall because of Sam's perception that it would offend Irene. This demonstrates that Sara is aware of how significant Irene is to Sam and has accepted it.

The Pontiac clearly represents Sara. The old gray mare that hasn't given up. The description of the car follows detailed depictions of Sara's declining physical state and Irene's robust youth. Sam says that he would like to trade it in for a truck, and Sara immediately insists he is joking. The relationship between Sam, Irene and Sara, and their interdependence on one another is illustrated here, as well as Juliet's discomfort with the situation.

I think Juliet was picked up at the other train station because her parents were ashamed that she was an unwed mother. Despite their unconventional ways, they were still influenced by the small town values of their village during the 1960s. I think the fact that Juliet was not picked up in her usual spot underscores her discomfort with the changes that have taken place, particularly the arrival of Irene.

Near the end of the second story, why do you think Sara said, "When it gets really bad for me--when it gets so bad--you know what I think of then? I think, all right. I think--Soon. Soon I'll see Juliet."

This is very significant, but why? The story is called "Soon." The last part is italicized.

After Sara's death, Juliet is distraught that she didn't respond to Sara when she said this. What should she have said? Why does she think "she had not protected Sara?" Protected her from what? Why did this bother Juliet so much?

The third story in the trilogy, Silence, ends on such a sad note. Juliet has resigned herself over the years to the fact that Penelope has found a deeper, more spiritual life without her. She has come to accept that this spirituality is what Penelope needs. When it is revealed to her that Penelope is living a typical suburban life, it is more than Juliet can bear.

The Silence in the story becomes not about Penelope's alienation, but Juliet's denial of her. She stops telling her boyfriends that she has a daughter. Juliet cannot accept the rejection. She enjoyed her fantasies about Penelope was living out some mystical life, much like the Greek mythological characters that she loved so much. When this turned out not to be the case, she could not handle it.

"My father used to say of someone he disliked, that he had no use for that person. Couldn't those words simply mean what they say? Penelope does not have use for me. Maybe she can't stand me. It's possible."

I think it would be so interesting to read Penelope's story. The untold story of what really happened here.

[DonRocks]

I think Munro chose "I and the Village" as the painting in the second story for a number of reasons. Chagall is said to have painted it because it reminded him of his childhood village. It had the same significance for Juliet. The painting also is divided into thirds. Clearly groupings of three are very significant here. There are three stories about Juliet. She is involved in a love triangle with Eric and Christa. She is an only child, and she and Eric have one child.

Looking at the painting, I see her mother, the fair, sweet, fragile goat looking at her father, the man who sells vegetables and is clearly linked to the natural world depicted here. Juliet is the woman milking the goat. The man pursuing the upside down woman represents her father and Irene.

...

I think Juliet was picked up at the other train station because her parents were ashamed that she was an unwed mother. 

...

Near the end of the second story, why do you think Sara said, "When it gets really bad for me--when it gets so bad--you know what I think of then? I think, all right. I think--Soon. Soon I'll see Juliet."

This is very significant, but why? The story is called "Soon." The last part is italicized.

You're absolutely correct that "groupings of three" are significant here, but you missed a biggie.

Chagall is known for his Christian imagery, but not as a Christian (Chagall was Jewish). Many of his works, to me, seem to turn Christianity - and its Holy Trinity - upside down, in this case, perhaps literally.

It is not a coincidence that Juliet's best friend is named Crista, or that Crista's brother's family name is Lamb.

There was no discussion of Juliet and Eric having sex before Penelope was born - in fact, I don't remember *any* discussion of Juliet having sex in this story. Could Juliet indeed be an allegory for the Virgin Mary who lost her child (or, vice-versa)? Note that there's an explicit reference to Eric having had sex with Crista.

There's something in "Runaway," when Flora makes her mystical appearance in the blinding light, that reminds me of The Annunication - a foreshadowing of things to come, in which case it would not be an accident that "Runaway" was placed first in the book, immediately preceding the trilogy. Note that in The Bible, a separate Annunciation to Joseph occurred in a dream, and it's arguable that Sylvia was still in a dream-state when Flora appeared.

[DIShGo]

You're absolutely correct that "groupings of three" are significant here, but you missed a biggie.

Chagall is known for his Christian imagery, but not as a Christian (Chagall was Jewish). Many of his works, to me, seem to turn Christianity - and its Holy Trinity - upside down, in this case, perhaps literally.

It is not a coincidence that Juliet's best friend is named Crista, or that Crista's brother's family name is Lamb.

There was no discussion of Juliet and Eric having sex before Penelope was born - in fact, I don't remember *any* discussion of Juliet having sex in this story. Could Juliet indeed be an allegory for the Virgin Mary who lost her child (or, vice-versa)? Note that there's an explicit reference to Eric having had sex with Crista.

There's something in "Runaway," when Flora makes her mystical appearance, that reminds me of The Annunication - a foreshadowing of things to come, in which case it would not be an accident that "Runaway" was placed first in the book, immediately preceding the trilogy.

Actually, I did think of the Holy Trinity as well.

There is a description of Eric and Juliet having sex. It is when he returns home and she is waiting for him after his wife's death.

"He advances on her and she feels herself ransacked from top to bottom, flooded with relief, assaulted by happiness. How astonishing this is. How close to dismay."

I liked that passage.

I think if you grouped all three stories together, the underlying theme is rejection. Real and simply perceived. It begins with the man's suicide, apparently because Juliet rejected his friendship, and ends with Juliet being rejected by her daughter.

Rejection is a thread throughout. She feels rejected by Eric when he sleeps with Christa while she is away. She feels rejected by her parents' love of Irene. Her rejection of religion. Her father is rejected from the school where he taught, apparently for defending Juliet's honor. I think on a certain level she felt rejected by Eric because he did not marry her, although she claimed she did not.

[DonRocks]

Rejection is a thread throughout. She feels rejected by Eric when he sleeps with Christa while she is away. She feels rejected by her parents' love of Irene. Her rejection of religion. Her father is rejected from the school where he taught, apparently for defending Juliet's honor. I think on a certain level she felt rejected by Eric because he did not marry her, although she claimed she did not.

Peter rejected Jesus thrice.

[DIShGo]

Peter rejected Jesus thrice.

Yes, he did! Excellent observation.

[DIShGo]

I really enjoyed the fifth story, Passion. I am looking forward to discussing it.

And in keeping with our Biblical theme, the next two stories are "Passion" and "Trespasses."

[DIShGo]

I really liked the fifth story, Passion.

In Christianity, the Passion (translated from Greek, to suffer), refers to the short, final period in the life of Jesus. Similarly, this story deals with the final hours in the life of Neil, the alcoholic, despondent brother of Grace's fiancé. The Biblical theme is further illustrated in the central character's name: Grace. And, when Neil's wife Mavis is being bratty during an after-dinner word game, Gretchen, her sister-in-law says, "What fun. Jesus wept."

Grace, who feels no passion for her fiancé, despite acting as if she does, is drawn to Neil. She misinterprets his intentions that afternoon, wishing his longing were for her. At some point she realizes that Neil is doomed, yet she can't tear herself away. She sees a darkness in him that she recognizes in herself. "..and in the middle of that she had come on this rock-bottom truth. This lack of hope--genuine, reasonable, and everlasting."

"She'd thought it was touch. Mouths, tongues, skin, bodies, banging bone on bone. Inflammation. Passion. But that wasn't what had been meant for them at all. That was child's play, compared to how she knew him, how far she'd seen into him, now."

This story drew me in from the start, talking about going back to visit a place you once knew and fearing you'd find in changed, or worse, not changed at all. Grace, who is supposedly falling in love with Maury, is in fact falling in love with his family, his lifestyle, his home and, particularly, his mother.

A theme I have noticed in all five stories is that one's perception of home is a shifting thing. Grace struggles with thoughts of returning to her aunt and uncle's home, caning chairs for the rest of her life. It is a place that never felt like home to her. When Maury speaks of marriage, she is delighted by the idea of traveling with him, but bristles at the idea of building a home together.

This theme is central to "Runaway" and the trio, as well. In "Runaway," Carla comes to the very sad conclusion that home for her must include Carl. Flora, the little goat, tries, unsuccessfully, to find her way home. Juliet, in the trio, realizes on her visit to see her dying mother that home for her now is with Eric in Whale Bay. For Penelope, home is far away from Juliet.

Munro's writing is exquisite in this story, with beautiful passages I read over and over again.

[porcupine]

Faith, or the lack of it, is a theme that ties the stories together. Perhaps my disappointment with this trilogy lies in my dislike of Juliet. In the third story, particularly, I found it astonishing that she finally learns of her daughter's whereabouts, but does nothing about it! As a mother, I couldn't stand that!

Interesting,  I didn't like Juliet, either, but I felt like Juliet's "doing nothing about it" redeemed her.  She finally was able to accept the reality of the situation and did what she thought Penelope would want her to do - leave her alone.  Quite a selfless act.

[DonRocks]

Interesting,  I didn't like Juliet, either, but I felt like Juliet's "doing nothing about it" redeemed her.  She finally was able to accept the reality of the situation and did what she thought Penelope would want her to do - leave her alone.  Quite a selfless act.

The way you describe it, I see even more Christian imagery here (I guess for that to hold, letting go of the child would have to somehow redeem everyone else).

[DIShGo]

Interesting,  I didn't like Juliet, either, but I felt like Juliet's "doing nothing about it" redeemed her.  She finally was able to accept the reality of the situation and did what she thought Penelope would want her to do - leave her alone.  Quite a selfless act.

I didn't think of it that way, but it makes sense. Particularly since she knew Penelope was safe and probably happy, so she didn't need to worry about her anymore.

Still, there was something about Juliet's personality that made me feel that the act, while selfless, was also motivated by her fear of rejection. Juliet was overly concerned about what other people thought of her, and I think she was terrified to confront her daughter and hear the reason why she left. Juliet knew in her heart why Penelope rejected her, but I don't think she could face hearing it from her.

[DIShGo]

Interesting,  I didn't like Juliet, either, but I felt like Juliet's "doing nothing about it" redeemed her.  She finally was able to accept the reality of the situation and did what she thought Penelope would want her to do - leave her alone.  Quite a selfless act.

I am curious: have you read the rest of the book? I would love to know what you think about the women in the remaining stories. While I didn't care for Juliet, I really liked many of the other characters in the book. I think Munro is a master at portraying the thoughts and feelings of women.

[porcupine]

Still working on it.  I've read through "Trespasses".  Mixed feelings.  I don't really relate to any of the characters, but I'm enjoying Munro as a wordsmith.  She sometimes can sum up an entire range of emotions or lifetime of experience in one small, carefully crafted phrase.  At the moment I can't think of an example, though.

[DonRocks]

She sometimes can sum up an entire range of emotions or lifetime of experience in one small, carefully crafted phrase.  At the moment I can't think of an example, though.

I think that, to some degree, these two sentences sum up Munro.

[DIShGo]

Still working on it. I've read through "Trespasses". Mixed feelings. I don't really relate to any of the characters, but I'm enjoying Munro as a wordsmith.

I agree with you on that one. I didn't relate to the characters in Trespasses, and it was one of my least favorite stories in the book. The seventh story, Tricks, however, is my hands-down favorite. I can't wait to see what the two of you think of that one.

[DIShGo]

She sometimes can sum up an entire range of emotions or lifetime of experience in one small, carefully crafted phrase.  At the moment I can't think of an example, though.

I agree. This is something she does extremely well.

To me, a perfect example are these lines about Carla in Runaway: "It was as if she had a murderous needle somewhere in her lung, and by breathing carefully, she could avoid feeling it. But every once in a while she had to take a deep breath, and it was still there."

I think this captures precisely the feelings of someone trying to survive day to day in a bad marriage.

I also need to clarify my comment about Tricks. It is my favorite story because I connected with it on an emotional level. However, I think Passion and Runaway are better written.

[porcupine]

I agree with you on that one. I didn't relate to the characters in Trespasses, and it was one of my least favorite stories in the book. The seventh story, Tricks, however, is my hands-down favorite. I can't wait to see what the two of you think of that one.

Now I've read everything through "Tricks."  That was tragic.  I'm having a hard time summing up my feelings about Munro's women; they seem very distant, even though they're well fleshed out.  If there's a single one I can relate to at all it's Lauren in "Trespasses" (which might've been my least favorite story).

I agree. This is something she does extremely well.

To me, a perfect example are these lines about Carla in Runaway: "It was as if she had a murderous needle somewhere in her lung, and by breathing carefully, she could avoid feeling it. But every once in a while she had to take a deep breath, and it was still there."

I think this captures precisely the feelings of someone trying to survive day to day in a bad marriage.

I also need to clarify my comment about Tricks. It is my favorite story because I connected with it on an emotional level. However, I think Passion and Runaway are better written.

Nice choice of quote from "Runaway".  Probably agree with your last sentence.

Does Munro often set the story in the present, then spend most of the time developing the back story?  There's a certain sameness to many of the stories, stemming partly from this technique.  Also, the volume could have been titled Regrets....

This is not my usual taste in fiction, but I'm glad to have expanded my horizons by giving it a try, which I did only because of the discussion in this thread.  So, thanks.

[DIShGo]

Now I've read everything through "Tricks."  That was tragic.  I'm having a hard time summing up my feelings about Munro's women; they seem very distant, even though they're well fleshed out.  If there's a single one I can relate to at all it's Lauren in "Trespasses" (which might've been my least favorite story).

Nice choice of quote from "Runaway".  Probably agree with your last sentence.

Does Munro often set the story in the present, then spend most of the time developing the back story?  There's a certain sameness to many of the stories, stemming partly from this technique.  Also, the volume could have been titled Regrets....

This is not my usual taste in fiction, but I'm glad to have expanded my horizons by giving it a try, which I did only because of the discussion in this thread.  So, thanks. 

Have you read Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri? It a similar collection of stories, beautifully written with themes of loss and regret, yet to me, her characters are more fleshed out than Munro's characters. It was her debut work, and she won the Pulitzer Prize for it in 2000. It is one of my four favorite books.

I was curious to see if there was a connection between the two, and indeed, Lahiri says Munro is one of her heroes. I found an article in which a young writer lamented that Lahiri's critically acclaimed novels that followed Interpreter of Maladies lacked something found in her first book. Rohin Guha wrote about Lahiri's Unaccustomed Earth, "It was as wonderful as an Alice Munro book: A collection of well-constructed sentences, embedded with a modicum of anguish, and the vague sense that important things were happening, but without any real urgency."

You are right, there is a sameness to all of the stories. Regret, loss, searching for a sense of home and the dealing with the expectations placed on women of a certain era--are themes Munro repeats throughout these stories.

[DonRocks]

I really liked the fifth story, Passion.

In Christianity, the Passion (translated from Greek, to suffer), refers to the short, final period in the life of Jesus. Similarly, this story deals with the final hours in the life of Neil, the alcoholic, despondent brother of Grace's fiancé. The Biblical theme is further illustrated in the central character's name: Grace. And, when Neil's wife Mavis is being bratty during an after-dinner word game, Gretchen, her sister-in-law says, "What fun. Jesus wept."

Grace, who feels no passion for her fiancé, despite acting as if she does, is drawn to Neil. She misinterprets his intentions that afternoon, wishing his longing were for her. At some point she realizes that Neil is doomed, yet she can't tear herself away. She sees a darkness in him that she recognizes in herself. "..and in the middle of that she had come on this rock-bottom truth. This lack of hope--genuine, reasonable, and everlasting."

"She'd thought it was touch. Mouths, tongues, skin, bodies, banging bone on bone. Inflammation. Passion. But that wasn't what had been meant for them at all. That was child's play, compared to how she knew him, how far she'd seen into him, now."

This story drew me in from the start, talking about going back to visit a place you once knew and fearing you'd find in changed, or worse, not changed at all. Grace, who is supposedly falling in love with Maury, is in fact falling in love with his family, his lifestyle, his home and, particularly, his mother.

A theme I have noticed in all five stories is that one's perception of home is a shifting thing. Grace struggles with thoughts of returning to her aunt and uncle's home, caning chairs for the rest of her life. It is a place that never felt like home to her. When Maury speaks of marriage, she is delighted by the idea of traveling with him, but bristles at the idea of building a home together.

This theme is central to "Runaway" and the trio, as well. In "Runaway," Carla comes to the very sad conclusion that home for her must include Carl. Flora, the little goat, tries, unsuccessfully, to find her way home. Juliet, in the trio, realizes on her visit to see her dying mother that home for her now is with Eric in Whale Bay. For Penelope, home is far away from Juliet.

Munro's writing is exquisite in this story, with beautiful passages I read over and over again.

I am *so* glad you wrote this because I finished "Passion" a couple of days ago, and (other than the obvious metaphor), it went right over my head - I had forgotten you wrote about it here in such detail. Much appreciated!

(Were Grace and Maury actually engaged? I thought Grace denied that she would marry Maury.)

Anyway, I labored through this story, and got very little payoff. I'd like to think I'm a fairly sophisticated connoisseur of literature, but some of the things in Passion I simply don't understand. The $1,000 check, for example - what the hell? Is this some sort of Judas/gold-coin/born-again thing? There are many, many other examples of this. The brick steps going up the wooden house in a zig-zag. Grace falling asleep after Neil goes into the third house (there's that "three" thing again). The fact that Neil's last name is Borrow. Grace cutting her foot after jumping off the swing (is this supposed to be nailed-to-the-cross imagery?) And even if these things are all Christian metaphor - so what?

This may sound dimwitted, but her subtleties are lost on me in this particular story. So far I've read several analyses of the story, and all they've done is summarize the plot. What the hell kind of review is this? The person just rewrote the story!

I *know* Munro didn't write all these things randomly, but I'll be darned if I can figure out what they mean. I have a friend whose initials are "TT" and who imports German Wine. He devours books, and reads as much as anyone I've ever known. He is one of the few people whose opinion I've sought who simply does not love Munro, and I'm starting to wander into his camp.

[DIShGo]

I am *so* glad you wrote this because I finished "Passion" a couple of days ago, and (other than the obvious metaphor), it went right over my head - I had forgotten you wrote about it here in such detail. Much appreciated!

(Were Grace and Maury actually engaged? I thought Grace denied that she would marry Maury.)

Anyway, I labored through this story, and got very little payoff. I'd like to think I'm a fairly sophisticated connoisseur of literature, but some of the things in Passion I simply don't understand. The $1,000 check, for example - what the hell? Is this some sort of Judas/gold-coin/born-again thing? There are many, many other examples of this. The brick steps going up the wooden house in a zig-zag. Grace falling asleep after Neil goes into the third house (there's that "three" thing again). The fact that Neil's last name is Borrow. Grace cutting her foot after jumping off the swing (is this supposed to be nailed-to-the-cross imagery?) And even if these things are all Christian metaphor - so what?

This may sound dimwitted, but her subtleties are lost on me in this particular story. So far I've read several analyses of the story, and all they've done is summarize the plot. What the hell kind of review is this? The person just rewrote the story!

I *know* Munro didn't write all these things randomly, but I'll be darned if I can figure out what they mean. I have a friend whose initials are "TT" and who imports German Wine. He devours books, and reads as much as anyone I've ever known. He is one of the few people whose opinion I've sought who simply does not love Munro, and I'm starting to wander into his camp. 

I agree with you. That review from The New Yorker is dreadful. It seems to me that reviewers have a hard time with Munro's stories because the brilliance of her work lies more in her beautifully crafted phrases than in her plots.

Grace and Maury weren't engaged, although he planned to "make it official" at Christmas. This is probably why Grace acted the way she did, realizing that day was approaching and that to marry Maury would kill her spirit.

It wasn't what happened in this story that captivated me; it was Munro's effortless writing style. For example, I liked her description of Mavis: "Handsome, but with little pouches of boredom or disapproval hiding the corners of her mouth." And later, "Mavis smoked and continued to smile her determined sweetly hurt unhappy smile." I knew exactly what type of woman Mavis was from these two simple sentences.

I love the simplicity with which she describes Grace's decision to go with Neil. After Neil said to Grace, "You didn't want to go home yet, did you?" Munro writes, "No," said Grace, as if she's seen the word written in front of her, on the wall. As if she was having her eyes tested."

Then, "Describing this passage, this change in her life later on, Grace might say--she did say--that is was as if a gate clanged shut behind her. But at the time there was no clang--acquiescence simply rippled through her, the rights of those left behind were smoothly cancelled."

This story, like so many in Runaway, involves an older woman looking back on the decisions she made when she was younger. I like the way she reminds us that our memories of events change over time.

"Her memory of this day remained clear and detailed, though there was a variation in the parts of it she dwelt on. And even in some of those details she must have been wrong."

Don't we all do that? Don't we think we remember something just as it was, but in reality, we remember certain parts very well and others not at all?

The buy-off at the end did seem a bit odd, but Maury's family loved Grace, and his mother specifically asked her to look after Neil that day, so I think there was some guilt involved on the mother's part. I think the important part about the $1,000 was that she took it. Grace's true passion was finding a way out of a life of caning chairs.

It is interesting, however, that the story does not give us any hint as to what kind of life Grace ended up living. Even though she is an older woman reminiscing, this is left entirely to our imaginations.

[DonRocks]

I agree with you. That review from The New Yorker is dreadful. It seems to me that reviewers have a hard time with Munro's stories because the brilliance of her work lies more in her beautifully crafted phrases than in her plots.

Grace and Maury weren't engaged, although he planned to "make it official" at Christmas. This is probably why Grace acted the way she did, realizing that day was approaching and that to marry Maury would kill her spirit.

It wasn't what happened in this story that captivated me; it was Munro's effortless writing style. For example, I liked her description of Mavis: "Handsome, but with little pouches of boredom or disapproval hiding the corners of her mouth." And later, "Mavis smoked and continued to smile her determined sweetly hurt unhappy smile." I knew exactly what type of woman Mavis was from these two simple sentences.

I love the simplicity with which she describes Grace's decision to go with Neil. After Neil said to Grace, "You didn't want to go home yet, did you?" Munro writes, "No," said Grace, as if she's seen the word written in front of her, on the wall. As if she was having her eyes tested."

Then, "Describing this passage, this change in her life later on, Grace might say--she did say--that is was as if a gate clanged shut behind her. But at the time there was no clang--acquiescence simply rippled through her, the rights of those left behind were smoothly cancelled."

This story, like so many in Runaway, involves an older woman looking back on the decisions she made when she was younger. I like the way she reminds us that our memories of events change over time.

"Her memory of this day remained clear and detailed, though there was a variation in the parts of it she dwelt on. And even in some of those details she must have been wrong."

Don't we all do that? Don't we think we remember something just as it was, but in reality, we remember certain parts very well and others not at all?

The buy-off at the end did seem a bit odd, but Maury's family loved Grace, and his mother specifically asked her to look after Neil that day, so I think there was some guilt involved on the mother's part. I think the important part about the $1,000 was that she took it. Grace's true passion was finding a way out of a life of caning chairs.

It is interesting, however, that the story does not give us any hint as to what kind of life Grace ended up living. Even though she is an older woman reminiscing, this is left entirely to our imaginations.

The way you describe the story makes it sound so appealing, and I suppose to some (like the Nobel Prize Selection Committee) it is. Munro does know how to turn an elegant phrase, without resorting to shock value, and excels in nuance and subtlety.

Long before your time here, we had a discussion about "Girl Food" (which I happen to favor), and I wonder if Munro is the literary equivalent of this - sort of like a "chick flick," but with literary merit.

I got this letter yesterday from a guy I know and respect. His thoughts: "I have NEVER been able to get into her work, despite her being the absolute favorite of so many other writers whom I like and respect. I just don't get her." That's starting to become the way I feel: "I just don't get her," and I feel like it's a shortcoming on my end. Quite frankly, to some degree, it's the way I feel about certain jazz, and it makes me feel like a caveman. On the other hand, I have seen no less than thirty (yes, 30) live operas before coming to the reluctant conclusion that I just don't *like* them - they're too long, the lyrics and plot are too often banal, recitative bores me, they play the same ones over-and-over (for financial reasons), and I'd rather see a play (for theater) or a concert (for music). It doesn't mean I don't respect them; I just don't like sitting through them.

My impression of Munro is that she wastes a lot of words painting a scene (and does it very well), but the scene is often entirely unnecessary to the story. She's thinking micro when she needs to think more macro - now, I'm perfectly willing to accept that I'm missing something obvious, but at this point, someone needs to convince me.

I just began the story "Trespasses," and I have a feeling I'm really not going to care that 'rocks were jutting out from the side of the road.' Here's an essay on "Runaway" by Robert Weibezahl who really seems to love Munro. Maybe this author is a gifted portraitist, and I'm simply searching for too much meaning in her works. The allegory is there, but for me, it's either painfully obvious, or indecipherable. "Trespasses," incidentally, is from a version of the Lord's Prayer.

[DIShGo]

The way you describe the story makes it sound so appealing, and I suppose to some (like the Nobel Prize Selection Committee) it is. Munro does know how to turn an elegant phrase, without resorting to shock value, and excels in nuance and subtlety.

Long before your time here, we had a discussion about "Girl Food" (which I happen to favor), and I wonder if Munro is the literary equivalent of this - sort of like a "chick flick," but with literary merit.

I got this letter yesterday from a guy I know and respect. His thoughts: "I have NEVER been able to get into her work, despite her being the absolute favorite of so many other writers whom I like and respect. I just don't get her." That's starting to become the way I feel: "I just don't get her," and I feel like it's a shortcoming on my end. Quite frankly, to some degree, it's the way I feel about certain jazz, and it makes me feel like a caveman. On the other hand, I have seen no less than thirty (yes, 30) live operas before coming to the reluctant conclusion that I just don't *like* them - they're too long, the lyrics and plot are too often banal, recitative bores me, they play the same ones over-and-over (for financial reasons), and I'd rather see a play (for theater) or a concert (for music). It doesn't mean I don't respect them; I just don't like sitting through them.

My impression of Munro is that she wastes a lot of words painting a scene (and does it very well), but the scene is often entirely unnecessary to the story. She's thinking micro when she needs to think more macro - now, I'm perfectly willing to accept that I'm missing something obvious, but at this point, someone needs to convince me.

I just began the story "Trespasses," and I have a feeling I'm really not going to care that 'rocks were jutting out from the side of the road.' Here's an essay on "Runaway" by Robert Weibezahl who really seems to love Munro. Maybe this author is a gifted portraitist, and I'm simply searching for too much meaning in her works. The allegory is there, but for me, it's either painfully obvious, or indecipherable. "Trespasses," incidentally, is from a version of the Lord's Prayer.

Munro definitely writes from a woman's perspective. While I could relate, I tired of reading about the same sort of character over and over in these stories. Julia, Grace or Carla, on a certain level, are all the same woman. I think Runaway is autobiographical in that sense. I think Munro is the older woman, looking back on the bright, somewhat socially awkward girl who is trying to make her way and not quite fitting in with societal expectations.

Interpreter of Maladies, the book I mentioned earlier by Jhumpa Lahiri, also has common themes throughout the stories. Many revolve around the lives of immigrants from India. Yet each story stands alone, and the characters are diverse. I think in many ways, Munro falls short in this regard in this book.

Perhaps you will like Trespasses. I am curious to see what you think. It has more plot twists and turns than Passion. I didn't care for it, and I liked Powers even less.

Runaway, Passion and Tricks are the stories I will remember when I think about this book.

[DIShGo]

I am going to reread Trespasses before I attempt to discuss it here. However, looking briefly at the notations in my book, there are some beautiful passages that I think are worth noting.

I think Munro eloquently describes the tension in the household before Eileen and Harry fight, and the way it makes Lauren feel. "But when Harry got out the gin and poured half a tumbler for himself and added nothing but ice--and soon he wouldn't even be adding ice--the course was set. Everything might still be cheerful but the cheerfulness was hard as knives."

And, "There had never been one time when this feeling was in the room, the change in the air, the shocking brightness that made all shapes, all the furniture and utensils, sharper, yet denser--never one time that the worst did not follow."

There is such beauty and truth in these sentences.

I also love this sentence, which is simply about the weather: "...the middling warmth of the autumn day was turning out to be a fraud."

Or this description of a person who had absolutely nothing to do with the overall story: "He wore a shirt and tie, a cardigan, and trousers that looked as if they had grown together--all soft, rumpled, fuzzy, like an outer skin that was flaky and graying as his real skin must be underneath."

The beauty of Munro is in the details. Even though I didn't like this story much, there are gems hidden in it.

[porcupine]

Munro makes me think of certain popular singers over the past few decades: I've absolutely loved their voices, but hated the songs they chose to sing.

I love how Munro writes, but I don't really enjoy the plots or characters.

The beauty of Munro is in the details.

Exactly.

[DonRocks]

The beauty of Munro is in the details. Even though I didn't like this story much, there are gems hidden in it.

Exactly.

Okay, so you two are saying that the beauty is in the journey and not the destination, the individual brushstrokes and not the entire picture.

A beautiful drive through the mountains ending at a roadside ice-cream stand, versus a tortuous slog though the desert ending at the pyramids of Giza.

Girls want to be wooed and cooed and seduced and loved; guys want an orgasm and they don't care if it's from having sex with a tree stump.

That sort of thing.

Seriously, I think there's another level of depth that we're all missing. Way up above, I referred to several things Munro mentions by choice, when she could have mentioned anything else she wanted. I could go through and pick out dozens, hundreds, of examples of these, but can't explain why she does it, or what they mean. I'm not willing to accept that she simply writes these things because they're "pretty," not when people like Jonathan Franzen are bowing down before her. I've always said I could compose better (and better-selling, if necessary) popular music than 90% of composers, so maybe it's the same thing with literature, and I just refuse to believe that "this is all there is" to these stories. Maybe I should just accept that Munro and her contemporary brethren are human beings, not gods and goddesses, but I'm finding that difficult to swallow. Maybe it's time to stop and smell the roses.

[DIShGo]

Okay, so you two are saying that the beauty is in the journey and not the destination, the individual brushstrokes and not the entire picture.

A beautiful drive through the mountains ending at a roadside ice-cream stand, versus a tortuous slog though the desert ending at the pyramids of Giza.

Girls want to be wooed and cooed and seduced and loved; guys want an orgasm and they don't care if it's from having sex with a tree stump.

That sort of thing.

Seriously, I think there's another level of depth that we're all missing. Way up above, I referred to several things Munro mentions by choice, when she could have mentioned anything else she wanted. I could go through and pick out dozens, hundreds, of examples of these, but can't explain why she does it, or what they mean. I'm not willing to accept that she simply writes these things because they're "pretty," not when people like Jonathan Franzen are bowing down before her. I've always said I could compose better (and better-selling, if necessary) popular music than 90% of composers, so maybe it's the same thing with literature, and I just refuse to believe that "this is all there is" to these stories. Maybe I should just accept that Munro and her contemporary brethren are human beings, not gods and goddesses, but I'm finding that difficult to swallow. Maybe it's time to stop and smell the roses.

Yes, exactly. Well, except for the tree stump thing. I don't know about that... 

I think Jonathan Franzen, in his review, sums up Munro's appeal well. He also explains why it is so hard to review her work.

He says, "Reading Munro puts me in that state of quiet reflection in which I think about my own life: about the decisions I've made, the things I've done and haven't done, the kind of person and I am, the prospect of death."

She definitely has that effect on me.

He also says, "As long as you're reading Munro, you're failing to multitask by absorbing civic lessons or historical data. Her subject is people. People people people. If you read fiction about some enriching subject like Renaissance art or an important chapter in our nation's history, you can be assured of feeling productive. But if the story is set in the modern world, and if the characters' concerns are familiar to you, and if you become so involved with a book that you can't put it down at bedtime, there exists a risk that you're merely being entertained."

[DIShGo]

So I decided to read Trespasses again before commenting on it further. I still don't like the story, but I love the way Munro writes.

Again we see Biblical references. Not only is the story called "Trespasses," but the characters recite the Lord's Prayer at the end of the story.

Munro once again incorporates dream-like sequences into the story. First, Lauren has a dream about a rabid gray weasel or a skinny fox that is not afraid of humans, and is watching her house. Later, she is awakened from a deep sleep by Harry before they all go out to scatter the baby's ashes.

This story is different from the others in that it is written from Lauren's perspective, and she is younger than the other main characters in the book. I think Munro does an excellent job of capturing the discomfort Lauren feels being pulled in different directions by dysfunctional adults. There were plot twists in this story which made it interesting to read. But my overall feeling at the end was one of disappointment.

Having said that, my book is filled with stars and underlined passages I find beautiful and noteworthy. For example, I like the way she describes Lauren's aversion to stockinged feet. Or, when Lauren is trying to figure out if Eileen is her mother, she says, "If there was one big thing she had not known about, why could there not be another? This notion was unsettling, but it had distant charm." I love that!

[DonRocks]

So I decided to read Trespasses again before commenting on it further. I still don't like the story, but I love the way Munro writes.

I'm still reading the story (so I haven't read your post), but I found this topical passage on page 210:

"She had an allergy to beets. If even a drop of beet juice made its way down her throat, her tissues would swell up and she would have to go to the hospital, she would need an emergency operation so that she could breathe."

That last comma doesn't appeal to me because it seems inconsistent, although I'll need to pay closer attention before I really say this.

[DIShGo]

I'm still reading the story (so I haven't read your post), but I found this topical passage on page 210:

"She had an allergy to beets. If even a drop of beet juice made its way down her throat, her tissues would swell up and she would have to go to the hospital, she would need an emergency operation so that she could breathe."

That last comma doesn't appeal to me because it seems inconsistent, although I'll need to pay closer attention before I really say this.

Yes, I see what you're saying. It seems like it should be a separate sentence to me.

Just wait until you read the detailed description of vomiting on page 222...

I am just trying to pique your interest so you keep reading!

[porcupine]

That last comma doesn't appeal to me because it seems inconsistent, although I'll need to pay closer attention before I really say this.

Grammatical descriptivism vs. prescriptivism.  In fiction and casual writing I prefer the former, thus no problems with Munro's use of commas.  The book I'm currently reading (Surfacing, by Margaret Atwood) would drive you nuts.  It's punctuated to allow the reader to follow the flow of the narrator's disjointed thoughts.

Atwood is awesome.

[DonRocks]

Grammatical descriptivism vs. prescriptivism.  In fiction and casual writing I prefer the former, thus no problems with Munro's use of commas.  The book I'm currently reading (Surfacing, by Margaret Atwood) would drive you nuts.  It's punctuated to allow the reader to follow the flow of the narrator's disjointed thoughts.

Atwood is awesome.

This has nothing to do with grammar. Read what I said: "That last comma doesn't appeal to me because it seems inconsistent [with the rest of her writing in this book], although I'll need to pay closer attention before I really say this."

[DIShGo]

Grammatical descriptivism vs. prescriptivism.  In fiction and casual writing I prefer the former, thus no problems with Munro's use of commas.  The book I'm currently reading (Surfacing, by Margaret Atwood) would drive you nuts.  It's punctuated to allow the reader to follow the flow of the narrator's disjointed thoughts.

Atwood is awesome.

I generally agree with you, with Cormac McCarthy's All The Pretty Horses being the exception. The lack of punctuation in that book drove me insane. He didn't use quotation marks and used very few commas, and instead of making it flow better, i constantly had to go back to see who was speaking.

[DIShGo]

This has nothing to do with grammar. Read what I said: "That last comma doesn't appeal to me because it seems inconsistent [with the rest of her writing in this book], although I'll need to pay closer attention before I really say this."

It makes sense to me now. The paragraph prior to the one about the beets explains it for us.

Speaking of Delphine, Munro writes, "She spoke vehemently--she did not discuss but stated, and her judgments were severe and capricious. She spoke about herself--her tastes, her physical working--as about a monumental mystery, something unique and final."

The added detail--that she would need an emergency operation so that she could breathe--is tacked onto the end of the sentence to illustrate this idea. She didn't say she might need an operation, she said she would need one. Delphine spoke dramatically about herself and her body. To say she might have to go to the hospital wasn't sufficient. She needed to add that she would need and emergency operation in order to breathe for drama and effect.

The punctuation was used to emphasize Delphine's manner of speaking.

[DonRocks]

The punctuation was used to emphasize Delphine's manner of speaking.

Now I like the comma.

[DIShGo]

Now I like the comma.

It is interesting that you even noticed it.

This is a very effective passage. It seems to be about beets, but really it accomplishes two things at once. It shows Delphine's personality and illustrates, with the quote that follows it, that she is searching for similarities between Lauren and herself.

[DIShGo]

Because I finished reading "Trespasses" so long ago, I have gone back and reread it a couple of times. Each time I do, I notice some striking detail that I missed the first time. I think there are a lot of layers to Munroe's writing, and her words become richer when you read them again.

The first few paragraphs of this story are offsetting because you have NO idea what is happening. The last paragraph is incredibly sad. All of those "burrs" stuck to Lauren, causing her pain, and all she can do is wait to be rid of them.

[DonRocks]

Because I finished reading "Trespasses" so long ago, I have gone back and reread it a couple of times. Each time I do, I notice some striking detail that I missed the first time. I think there are a lot of layers to Munroe's writing, and her words become richer when you read them again.

The first few paragraphs of this story are offsetting because you have NO idea what is happening. The last paragraph is incredibly sad. All of those "burrs" stuck to Lauren, causing her pain, and all she can do is wait to be rid of them.

I can say with certainty that "Trespasses" (which I started a couple months ago, put down after about 15 pages, then finished yesterday), took me down more wrong paths, and had me make more incorrect assumptions, than any short story I've ever read in my life.

This one story alone nearly justifies the Nobel for Munro in my mind.

*** SPOILERS GALORE FOLLOW - DO NOT READ THEM IF YOU PLAN ON READING "TRESPASSES" ***

1) In the opening paragraphs, the reader has no clue what's going on, or who the characters are. I assumed they were four high school kids sneaking out to smoke pot, or drink, or do something illicit.

2) This is where putting the book down really hurt me: I *think* I assumed the entire time that Lauren was anywhere from 15 to 17, and because I put the book down for so long, I can no longer be sure if Munro said her true age early on. Nevertheless, I did leaf back and look, and Munro was dropping obvious hints that Lauren was an older teen (she talks about whisky, cigarettes, sneaking away, etc. - things an older teenager might do).

3) I got homoerotic overtones from Delphine in the way she treated Lauren, and figured that was creeping Lauren out, and that that's why Lauren wanted out of there. 'This relationship is a combination of "My Secret Garden" and "Go Fish,"' I thought to myself.

4) Then, the bombshell was dropped on me that Lauren was *ten*. '"My Secret Garden" meets "Go Fish" meets "Lolita,"' I told myself, assuming that Delphine just graduated from "nutty" to "pedophile," and it really disturbed me.

5) "That crazy bitch." That line from Eileen had me convinced that Delphine was after their little girl, and Eileen and Harry were just being protective parents.

6) After that scene, I read a few paragraphs, then said to myself, 'Wait a minute,' then went back to the opening paragraphs. I realized at that moment that Delphine had no speaking lines in the opening. 'Oh my God,' I thought - they're going to dump her murdered body in the woods.

7) Then Delphine is sitting on their sofa, not saying a word, and essentially lifeless. Munro is *absolutely* trying to convince the reader that she had been killed, and the opening scene does nothing to betray that. When she finally spoke, I was shocked that I was wrong.

8) And after *that*, it turns out that Delphine is - or, thought she was - Lauren's mother, and she wasn't crazy at all; she was just a fully vested mom hoping to kindle a relationship with her daughter whom she obvious loved.

9) So it was Harry and Eileen that were crazy, and lousy parents; not Delphine. Poor Lauren has been living a sad life this entire time, emphasized at the end.

There's nine things that I can think of, just off the top of my head, where I completely misjudged where this story was going, and I bet I could think of a tenth - in a 30-40 page story, that is a remarkable amount of mind fuck.

"Trespasses" was brilliant, masterful, and unforgettable. During the early part of this story - which followed "Passion" - I actually had the gall to think to myself, 'I could write short stories as well as Munro.' Well, I can't. I couldn't even attempt to write something at this level of genius. I am so bowled over by this masterpiece that I'm certain I'll remember it for the rest of my life.

[DIShGo]

When you said you thought Lauren was 15 to 17, I was certain I read somewhere that she was 13 or 14. I looked back at the story, and never (until it is revealed near the end that she is 10) is her age mentioned. Never would I have guessed she was so young. In the paragraph where Munroe describes how Eileen and Harry treated Lauren as much older than she was, it says, "One of the boys had suggested sex to her and she had agreed, but he could not make any progress and they became cross with each other and later she hated the sight of him." Never in a million years would I have guessed she was 10!

I did, however, guess from the start that Delphine was Lauren's mother and was trying to reestablish a relationship with her. This, too, turned out not to be the case. I didn't pick up a creepy vibe from Delphine, as you did. I thought she was a sad woman who made a series of bad choices and was trying to turn her life around. I thought her true love for Lauren would win out in the end. I did think something sinister was going on, but I thought it was something involving Eileen and the dead baby. I figured Harry was trying to protect Lauren from knowing what Eileen had done, and when that was ultimately revealed, Lauren would wind up with Delphine. So I was lead down a different, but also wrong, path by Munroe.

[DIShGo]

I love how every story has a one-word title, and, in each case, that word conveys multiple meanings.

Her writing is simultaneously simple and complex.  She quietly manipulates the reader, so subtly and with such grace that we don't realize what is happening until it is done.

[DonRocks]

The seventh story, Tricks, however, is my hands-down favorite. I can't wait to see what the two of you think of that one.

I also need to clarify my comment about Tricks. It is my favorite story because I connected with it on an emotional level. However, I think Passion and Runaway are better written.

Now I've read everything through "Tricks."  That was tragic. 

Runaway, Passion and Tricks are the stories I will remember when I think about this book.

"Tricks" was magnificent. Munro laid the clues out there for us to find, but there was no way to guess, just no way.

The brevity of Munro's language when the discovery was made was remarkable in its efficiency.

Any brief doubts I had about Munro's greatness are long since gone. I suspect I won't like the final story as much, but "Tricks" was *so* good that I feel I owe it to Munro to read it as soon as possible.

[DIShGo]

"Tricks" was magnificent. Munro laid the clues out there for us to find, but there was no way to guess, just no way.

The brevity of Munro's language when the discovery was made was remarkable in its efficiency.

Any brief doubts I had about Munro's greatness are long since gone. I suspect I won't like the final story as much, but "Tricks" was *so* good that I feel I owe it to Munro to read it as soon as possible.

I am glad you liked "Tricks," too. I would recommend this book to anyone based on that story alone.

I loved the way the story played out, and the way the reader, too, was tricked. The brevity of language when the discovery was made heightened the poignancy of the moment.

Here are two of my favorite passages from this story, beautifully written as only Munro can:

"Nothing faded for her, however repetitive this program might be. Her memories, and the embroidery on her memories, just kept wearing a deeper groove."

"It was all spoiled in one day, in a couple of minutes, not by fits and starts, struggles, hopes and losses, in the long-drawn-out way that such things are more often spoiled. And if it's true that things are usually spoiled, isn't the quick way the easier way to bear? But you don't really take that view, not for yourself."

I am going to read "Powers" again before attempting to discuss it. It was long and difficult, and I am not sure I gave it the time and attention it deserved the first time around.

[DIShGo]

I re-read "Powers" this morning, and I am so glad I did. My impression of the story changed completely. It is one of the strongest stories in the book, written primarily from the perspective of one character while actually being about another one.

Elements found throughout the other stories--dream sequences, beautiful turns of phrase, and people whose lives are not as they seem--are beautifully presented in this tale. The theme of wanting to run away also is prevalent throughout "Powers," making it the perfect ending to this wonderful book.

The strength of "Powers" is revealed in the stark contrast between the main characters. There are ordinary people longing to be extraordinary, and extraordinary people wishing for ordinary lives. There are conflicts and compromises, outright lies and lies of omission.

I could read this story (and to be honest, the entire book) several times over, and each time something new would be revealed. That, to me, is the power of Munro's storytelling.

[DonRocks]

I re-read "Powers" this morning, and I am so glad I did. 

I began it today, and noticed that in the first two pages of text (the half-page on page one, then the second page, and then half of the third page), there are fully fifteen (15!) nouns (people, places and things) thrown at you - that is a lot. Your previous post served as a warning to me to take good note of these, and commit them to memory (I have my own memory tricks, and each time I see any of these 15 things repeated in the story, I'll know exactly what they are, or who they are). Although I'm only a few pages into "Powers," I would suggest to all readers doing whatever you can to memorize these "people, places and things" early on - it will make your life a lot easier as you get deeper into the story.

[DIShGo]

It is interesting to note the ages of the main characters in each of the stories. Most of the drama occurs when the women are quite young, and again when they are much older, looking back.

Carla met Clark at 18, and was likely in her early 20s when she ran away. Sylvia, most likely, was in her 60s.

 

Juliet is 21 at the beginning of the Trilogy. At the end of the story, she is considered too old to be on TV, gray, and her daughter has children who are school-aged. So Juliet is probably 50 or older at the end of the third story.

 

Grace is 20 in "Passion." When she returns, it is so many years later that everything has changed. Munro doesn't say how many years have passed, but again, I assume she was 50 at least.

 

Lauren is 10 in "Trespasses." She is the only one who doesn't age and look back.

 

In "Tricks," Robin Is 26. She appears to be around 66 when she learns what really happened.

 

In "Powers," Nancy and Tessa are the same age, being classmates. It begins in 1927 and Nancy is anxious to get engaged, so I assume she wasn't any older than her early 20s. At the end of the story, it is the early 70s, which would probably put her in her 60s.

 

Since most of the characters were smart young women who didn't quite fit into the boxes of their era, I imagine the book was somewhat autobiographical for Munro. She would have been in her early 70s when she wrote it.