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Runaway
The incomparable Alice Munro’s bestselling and rapturously acclaimed Runaway is a book of extraordinary stories about love and its infinite betrayals and surprises, from the title story about a young woman who, though she thinks she wants to, is incapable of leaving her husband, to three stories about a woman named Juliet and the emotions that complicate the luster of her intimate relationships. In Munro’s hands, the people she writes about–women of all ages and circumstances, and their friends, lovers, parents, and children–become as vivid as our own neighbors. It is her miraculous gift to make these stories as real and unforgettable as our own.
335 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2004
2052 people are currently reading
35214 people want to read
About the author
Alice Munro
238 books6,613 followersCollections of short stories of noted Canadian writer Alice Munro of life in rural Ontario include
Dance of the Happy Shades
(1968) and
Moons of Jupiter
(1982); for these and vivid novels, she won the Nobel Prize of 2013 for literature.
People widely consider her premier fiction of the world. Munro thrice received governor general's award. She focuses on human relationships through the lens of daily life. People thus refer to this "the Canadian Chekhov."
(Arabic: أليس مونرو)
(Persian: آلیس مانرو)
(Russian Cyrillic: Элис Манро)
(Ukrainian Cyrillic: Еліс Манро)
(Bulgarian Cyrillic: Алис Мънро)
(Slovak: Alice Munroová)
(Serbian: Alis Manro)
People widely consider her premier fiction of the world. Munro thrice received governor general's award. She focuses on human relationships through the lens of daily life. People thus refer to this "the Canadian Chekhov."
(Arabic: أليس مونرو)
(Persian: آلیس مانرو)
(Russian Cyrillic: Элис Манро)
(Ukrainian Cyrillic: Еліс Манро)
(Bulgarian Cyrillic: Алис Мънро)
(Slovak: Alice Munroová)
(Serbian: Alis Manro)
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 2,978 reviews
September 19, 2014
Not, who has read more Alice Munro that I have, wants to know why she doesn't write novels. Her uncharitable hypothesis is that Munro is too lazy to do the necessary work; she'd rather just scribble down each idea in short story form and then move on to the next one. Other people criticize her for being "cerebral" or "contrived". I don't agree with any of this, but I can see where the accusations are coming from.
After some thought, I find a metaphor which sums up my own feelings. It's true that a Munro story can seem just a little too perfect. Everything fits together so elegantly; there is nothing wasted. A non-chessplayer might compare it to a chess game. But for someone who does play chess, the image doesn't work. A normal chess game is like a novel. It's a story with a beginning, a middle and an end, where things often go in unexpected directions and painfully have to be put back on track. Novelists can never quite control their characters (Proust somehow ended up putting in a couple more books than he had originally intended), and chessplayers have an even harder time controlling their pieces.
There is a small group of people in the chess world, however, who do something which feels more rewarding to them than playing games; they compose endgame studies. A study is a chess idea expressed in its purest form. Every piece is necessary, and there is only one sequence of moves that achieves the desired result, given best defence. If White's task is to win, then he has only one way to win, and if it is to draw, then he only has one way to draw. The composer has a key position in mind, which possesses some unusual or beautiful property. At first, the arrangement of the pieces appears pointless; but finally the solver realizes that in just this case a knight is worth more than a queen, or the king finds itself miraculously stalemated in the middle of the board, and they see what the composer is doing.
A Munro story feels to me rather like a study. There is a small group of people and a set of relationships between them. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. But somehow, as the story unfolds, a logical but completely unexpected scene arises. A woman with psychic powers, baking little dough mice in an institution; or a child, with a winter coat over her pyjamas, standing shivering in a snowdrift and helping scatter ashes. You suddenly understand that this is what the story was about.
Very few chessplayers are able to create worthwhile studies. I think Munro's gift is similar, and just as rare.
After some thought, I find a metaphor which sums up my own feelings. It's true that a Munro story can seem just a little too perfect. Everything fits together so elegantly; there is nothing wasted. A non-chessplayer might compare it to a chess game. But for someone who does play chess, the image doesn't work. A normal chess game is like a novel. It's a story with a beginning, a middle and an end, where things often go in unexpected directions and painfully have to be put back on track. Novelists can never quite control their characters (Proust somehow ended up putting in a couple more books than he had originally intended), and chessplayers have an even harder time controlling their pieces.
There is a small group of people in the chess world, however, who do something which feels more rewarding to them than playing games; they compose endgame studies. A study is a chess idea expressed in its purest form. Every piece is necessary, and there is only one sequence of moves that achieves the desired result, given best defence. If White's task is to win, then he has only one way to win, and if it is to draw, then he only has one way to draw. The composer has a key position in mind, which possesses some unusual or beautiful property. At first, the arrangement of the pieces appears pointless; but finally the solver realizes that in just this case a knight is worth more than a queen, or the king finds itself miraculously stalemated in the middle of the board, and they see what the composer is doing.
A Munro story feels to me rather like a study. There is a small group of people and a set of relationships between them. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. But somehow, as the story unfolds, a logical but completely unexpected scene arises. A woman with psychic powers, baking little dough mice in an institution; or a child, with a winter coat over her pyjamas, standing shivering in a snowdrift and helping scatter ashes. You suddenly understand that this is what the story was about.
Very few chessplayers are able to create worthwhile studies. I think Munro's gift is similar, and just as rare.
October 27, 2022
Escapada es un libro maravilloso de una autora maravillosa, y con este galardón que le otorgo son ya tres los premios que este libro de cuentos acumula tras haber recibido el Giller Prize y el Rogers Writers' Trust Fiction Prize.
Las decisiones en momentos cruciales de las vidas de los protagonistas son uno de los puntos fijos alrededor de los cuales gira una buena parte de la narrativa de Alice Munro. Ya destaqué este aspecto en el comentario sobre El amor de una mujer generosa, aunque en este caso el tema se aborda en muchos de los cuentos desde un punto de vista bien distinto. En esta ocasión no se trata tanto de reflexionar sobre el camino elegido o el lugar alcanzado, como del propio acto de decidir, de las insondables razones que muchas veces están en la base de nuestra toma de decisiones.
Porque no siempre resulta fácil conocer estas razones, y no siempre es por falta de valentía para enfrentarnos a ellas. En ocasiones parece que simplemente las tomamos o que son ellas las que nos toman a nosotros. Y si ya es difícil su concreción para el protagonista, para los espectadores puede llegar a ser un imposible. Las mujeres que pueblan estos relatos nos sorprenderán con su forma de actuar tomando decisiones que parecen perjudiciales para ellas mismas, y, al mismo tiempo, la autora logra convencernos de que en el fondo nada podía ser de otra manera o, mejor aún, nos da pistas, ni muchas ni pocas, para construir esas razones que nos permitan hacer pie, cada uno su pie, sabiendo que…
"Siempre tenemos la idea de que hay una u otra razón y seguimos intentando descubrir razones. Pero creo que la razón no es algo tan fácil de sacar a la luz"
Otro punto que me ha parecido novedoso en estos relatos respecto a otros libros de Munro es la tensión que envuelve a muchos de ellos. Una tensión de desastre inminente que sobrevuela constantemente las relaciones existentes entre los personajes.
Por lo demás, no faltan todos esos elementos que hacen grandes los relatos de esta excepcional escritora: la aparente sencillez con la que despliega ante nosotros la complejidad de los sentimientos; los reveladores detalles, contados como de pasada, que caracterizan una vida y pueden cambiarla por completo; los giros inesperados, los silencios, el deseo en todas sus posibilidades, la culpa, la esperanza, y la sensación, al terminar cada relato, de haber leído toda una novela, de haber asistido a toda una vida. Lean y disfruten comprobando lo difícil que puede ser escapar, máxime si no se tiene muy claro de qué escapas y la explosión de sentimientos que te llevó a ello se ha desvanecido hasta dejarte vacío.
Oh, Alice Munro, por el placer que me ha sido concedido yo os declaro grande entre las grandes.
May 17, 2024
Runaway: Noun or Verb?
As a noun, “runaway” conjures a fairly specific character and situation.
Image: Runaway child with backpack
But as a phrasal verb, running away is often much broader and more metaphorical.
Right now, writing this, while sitting at my laptop, I’m running away from planning a conference presentation. In the past, I have run away from physical fear (trying to climb a net); a job I hated so much it was making me ill; and from potential rejection (and thus from possible acceptance).
But more often, consciously or not, I stiffen my British upper lip and focus on surviving immediate difficulties, either by denial or by distracting myself with fripperies, against a background of hopeful detachment.
Living in the present can be a coping strategy for those with past trauma or a fearful future. I’m not really in either camp. But maybe as a symptom of enjoying fiction, if times are tricky, I default to imagining alternative situations, rather than face the one I’m actually living.
Image: My life is more interesting inside my head (I can’t find the original artist)
Even doing nothing is a decision of sorts.
“Never put off to tomorrow, what you can put off till next week.”
- said no successful, famous, and content person, ever.
I see the patterns of my behaviour, but not a generalised solution, no way to discern which approach to use when. This is frustrating, because wilful ignorance is an accidentally recurring theme of my recent reading: Ford Madox Ford’s The Good Soldier (see my review HERE) and John Williams’ Nothing But the Night (see my review HERE), and now this.
Reading to Save Ourselves
My edition has an introduction by Jonathan Franzen. I read it in 2018, a year and a half into Trump’s presidency. But in 2004, Franzen wrote:
“Hatred is entertaining. The great insight of media-age extremists. How else to explain the election of so many repellant zealots, the disintegration of political civility, the ascendancy of Fox New?”
He ends up asking if a better kind of fiction can save the world, and concludes that’s unlikely, but it may save your soul.
That is why we read, and why we discuss on GR.
I think there is more worth in that thought than in some of these stories - except they are part of his solution.
A Mixed Bag
Three of the stories are episodes in the life of one character, Juliet, forming a novella. That is preceded and followed by other stories, which are unrelated, except they are all of similar length, have single-word titles, and share the general theme of a Canadian woman running away: from the past, from parents, from partners, from a child, from reality, from religion - and to it.
To quote from REM’s Belong, they want “To breathe at the thought of such freedom… Opened the window, A breath, this song, how long, And knew, knew, belong.”
There’s nothing inherently wrong with a mix of novella and short stories, but in this case, it added to the sense of unevenness in the collection.
The best of the stories were very good (though not superb, like Munro’s The Lives of Girls and Women (see my review HERE)), but the final one was a ridiculous, disjointed, unengaging mess!
THE STORIES
Runaway 3*
Carla ran away to marry Clark.
“She saw him as the architect of the life ahead of them, herself as captive, her submission both proper and exquisite.”
They now run a stables, not very successfully, and are married, not very successfully. Carla is fonder of her pet goat, Flora. You sense casual manipulation and overt put-downs: a “see-saw misery”. Then, a more twisted plan, and a dash of almost magical-realism.
Chance (Juliet’s story, part 1) 4*
As a child in the suburbs, Juliet’s mother had wanted her to be popular, and her father to fit in:
“Her sort of intelligence was often put in the same category as a limp or an extra thumb.”
She’s now a young classics teacher who views and interprets the world and people in it by analogies in Greek mythology. She has a strange experience and a curious encounter on a train. Blood is relevant for two very different reasons. The parallel narratives mean you’re not initially clear how or if they’re connected, and whether one is imaginary.
Soon (Juliet’s story, part 2) 3*
This opens with a description of a strange painting titled, “I and the Village”. Juliet takes her small daughter (Penelope) to visit her aging hippie parents, Sam and Sara, who “lived in a curious but not unhappy isolation”. Atheist Juliet is shocked that her mother has acquired some sort of faith, and angry when a priest friend of her mother’s criticizes her for depriving Penelope of a religious upbringing. It’s poignant, but firmly the middle part; it doesn’t work as well as a standalone story as parts 1 and 3.
Silence (Juliet’s story, part 3) 5*
Penelope is now 20, and has been away at a spiritual retreat for the last six months. Unlike the other stories in the collection, this one focuses on the one left behind, as she tries to join the dots, tormented by thoughts of what she should have done differently. It’s far more painful. Brilliantly so. There can be freedom in being abandoned. But freedom isn’t necessarily happiness.
Passion 4*
The risk of revisiting the past is that it has changed, gone, or is just irrelevant. Grace returns to the lake town where she had worked and fallen in love. Or rather, Maury fell in love with her. She seemed closer (though not in a sexual way) to his mother, who understood her passion for knowledge.
“Mrs Travers would not start any sort of conversation until enough time had passed for Grace’s thoughts to have got loose from whatever book she had been in.”
The title is as much about lack of passion (fear and inexperience made McEwan’s On Chesil Beach come to mind - see my review HERE) as misdirected passion. Two people running away from different things, in different ways, is not necessarily a recipe for a happy ending.
Trespasses 4*
The previous story started with a woman revisiting her past and ended with drama in a car. This separate story starts with four in a car, revisiting the past. The situation is intriguingly vague, as are the connections between the people, and the two timelines - rather like one of the characters:
“She talked about her life without getting it in any kind of order.”
It’s about identity and the sort of insecurities many children have about their place in the world, and especially their family. It looked as if it was going to be unoriginal and thus predictable. It was neither.
“If there was one big thing she hadn’t known about, why could there not be another? This notion was unsettling, but it had a distant charm.”
Tricks 5*
Robin (26) cares for her sickly older sister, Joanne. Her annual treat to herself is a trip to see a Shakespeare play, and his themes are the key to the story: lost and found, mistaken identity, opportunities lost by a sliver of chance, and the transformative effect of a curious and powerful connection.
“Nothing faded for her… Her memories, and the embroidery on her memories, just kept wearing a deeper groove.”
Powers 1*
A first person narration (mostly), starting earlier than the others, in 1927. Nancy has recently left school, but is still rather naive and childish in her extrovert and teasing ways. A male friend wonders why he hangs out with her, when she is:
“Not outstanding in any way, except perhaps in being spoiled, saucy, and egotistical.”
Nancy herself:
“Was truly, naturally reckless and full of some pure conviction that she led a charmed life.”
I didn’t buy it. Her friend Tessa seemed more charmed, living in the woods, doing psychic consultations, mainly to help people find lost things - including bodies.
Anyway, Nancy gets implausibly engaged, and then married, then there’s an epistolary section, and a bit of discussion of parapsychology. Later, the story turns more to Tessa, and the consequences of moderate fame, infamy, and investigation. There are chance meetings that are too convenient. The characters are mostly inconsistent and not credible. There’s mention of people’s need to believe in alternative reality. Very bitty time hops. The ending was odd and confusing.
This story was a mess. I hated it, and most of all, I hated that it was the last one of an otherwise very good collection.
Other Quotes
• “The whole countryside was changing, shaking itself loose” after a long period of endless rain.
• “They [outings] were what people did before they understood the realities of their lives.”
• “He was both a handsome man and a silly-looking man. Tall, lean, well built, but with a slouch that seemed artificial. A contrived, self-conscious air of menace… a vain little moustache, eyes that appeared both hopeful and mocking, a boyish smile perpetually on the verge of a sulk.”
• “It was as if she had a murderous needle somewhere in her lungs, 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.”
• “Trim abundance… a few repetitive houses” (suburbs).
• “She can tell by his voice that he is claiming her… He advances on her and she feels herself ransacked from top to bottom, flooded with relief, assaulted by happiness.”
• “The sort of card you send to an acquaintance whose tastes you cannot guess.”
• “The memory of him in the daily and ordinary world was in retreat.”
• “The smell did not make Grace hungry, exactly - it made her remember being hungry in other circumstances.”
• “Her casually provocative outfits.”
• “Everything might still be cheerful but the cheerfulness was hard as knives” (a couple, after drinking).
• “A bachelor’s room, with everything deliberate and necessary proclaiming a certain austere satisfaction.”
• “The conversation of kisses.”
• “Sporadic and secret, but, on the whole, comforting” (someone’s sex life).
As a noun, “runaway” conjures a fairly specific character and situation.
Image: Runaway child with backpack
But as a phrasal verb, running away is often much broader and more metaphorical.
Right now, writing this, while sitting at my laptop, I’m running away from planning a conference presentation. In the past, I have run away from physical fear (trying to climb a net); a job I hated so much it was making me ill; and from potential rejection (and thus from possible acceptance).
But more often, consciously or not, I stiffen my British upper lip and focus on surviving immediate difficulties, either by denial or by distracting myself with fripperies, against a background of hopeful detachment.
Living in the present can be a coping strategy for those with past trauma or a fearful future. I’m not really in either camp. But maybe as a symptom of enjoying fiction, if times are tricky, I default to imagining alternative situations, rather than face the one I’m actually living.
Image: My life is more interesting inside my head (I can’t find the original artist)
Even doing nothing is a decision of sorts.
“Never put off to tomorrow, what you can put off till next week.”
- said no successful, famous, and content person, ever.
I see the patterns of my behaviour, but not a generalised solution, no way to discern which approach to use when. This is frustrating, because wilful ignorance is an accidentally recurring theme of my recent reading: Ford Madox Ford’s The Good Soldier (see my review HERE) and John Williams’ Nothing But the Night (see my review HERE), and now this.
Reading to Save Ourselves
My edition has an introduction by Jonathan Franzen. I read it in 2018, a year and a half into Trump’s presidency. But in 2004, Franzen wrote:
“Hatred is entertaining. The great insight of media-age extremists. How else to explain the election of so many repellant zealots, the disintegration of political civility, the ascendancy of Fox New?”
He ends up asking if a better kind of fiction can save the world, and concludes that’s unlikely, but it may save your soul.
That is why we read, and why we discuss on GR.
I think there is more worth in that thought than in some of these stories - except they are part of his solution.
A Mixed Bag
Three of the stories are episodes in the life of one character, Juliet, forming a novella. That is preceded and followed by other stories, which are unrelated, except they are all of similar length, have single-word titles, and share the general theme of a Canadian woman running away: from the past, from parents, from partners, from a child, from reality, from religion - and to it.
To quote from REM’s Belong, they want “To breathe at the thought of such freedom… Opened the window, A breath, this song, how long, And knew, knew, belong.”
There’s nothing inherently wrong with a mix of novella and short stories, but in this case, it added to the sense of unevenness in the collection.
The best of the stories were very good (though not superb, like Munro’s The Lives of Girls and Women (see my review HERE)), but the final one was a ridiculous, disjointed, unengaging mess!
THE STORIES
Runaway 3*
Carla ran away to marry Clark.
“She saw him as the architect of the life ahead of them, herself as captive, her submission both proper and exquisite.”
They now run a stables, not very successfully, and are married, not very successfully. Carla is fonder of her pet goat, Flora. You sense casual manipulation and overt put-downs: a “see-saw misery”. Then, a more twisted plan, and a dash of almost magical-realism.
Chance (Juliet’s story, part 1) 4*
As a child in the suburbs, Juliet’s mother had wanted her to be popular, and her father to fit in:
“Her sort of intelligence was often put in the same category as a limp or an extra thumb.”
She’s now a young classics teacher who views and interprets the world and people in it by analogies in Greek mythology. She has a strange experience and a curious encounter on a train. Blood is relevant for two very different reasons. The parallel narratives mean you’re not initially clear how or if they’re connected, and whether one is imaginary.
Soon (Juliet’s story, part 2) 3*
This opens with a description of a strange painting titled, “I and the Village”. Juliet takes her small daughter (Penelope) to visit her aging hippie parents, Sam and Sara, who “lived in a curious but not unhappy isolation”. Atheist Juliet is shocked that her mother has acquired some sort of faith, and angry when a priest friend of her mother’s criticizes her for depriving Penelope of a religious upbringing. It’s poignant, but firmly the middle part; it doesn’t work as well as a standalone story as parts 1 and 3.
Silence (Juliet’s story, part 3) 5*
Penelope is now 20, and has been away at a spiritual retreat for the last six months. Unlike the other stories in the collection, this one focuses on the one left behind, as she tries to join the dots, tormented by thoughts of what she should have done differently. It’s far more painful. Brilliantly so. There can be freedom in being abandoned. But freedom isn’t necessarily happiness.
Passion 4*
The risk of revisiting the past is that it has changed, gone, or is just irrelevant. Grace returns to the lake town where she had worked and fallen in love. Or rather, Maury fell in love with her. She seemed closer (though not in a sexual way) to his mother, who understood her passion for knowledge.
“Mrs Travers would not start any sort of conversation until enough time had passed for Grace’s thoughts to have got loose from whatever book she had been in.”
The title is as much about lack of passion (fear and inexperience made McEwan’s On Chesil Beach come to mind - see my review HERE) as misdirected passion. Two people running away from different things, in different ways, is not necessarily a recipe for a happy ending.
Trespasses 4*
The previous story started with a woman revisiting her past and ended with drama in a car. This separate story starts with four in a car, revisiting the past. The situation is intriguingly vague, as are the connections between the people, and the two timelines - rather like one of the characters:
“She talked about her life without getting it in any kind of order.”
It’s about identity and the sort of insecurities many children have about their place in the world, and especially their family. It looked as if it was going to be unoriginal and thus predictable. It was neither.
“If there was one big thing she hadn’t known about, why could there not be another? This notion was unsettling, but it had a distant charm.”
Tricks 5*
Robin (26) cares for her sickly older sister, Joanne. Her annual treat to herself is a trip to see a Shakespeare play, and his themes are the key to the story: lost and found, mistaken identity, opportunities lost by a sliver of chance, and the transformative effect of a curious and powerful connection.
“Nothing faded for her… Her memories, and the embroidery on her memories, just kept wearing a deeper groove.”
Powers 1*
A first person narration (mostly), starting earlier than the others, in 1927. Nancy has recently left school, but is still rather naive and childish in her extrovert and teasing ways. A male friend wonders why he hangs out with her, when she is:
“Not outstanding in any way, except perhaps in being spoiled, saucy, and egotistical.”
Nancy herself:
“Was truly, naturally reckless and full of some pure conviction that she led a charmed life.”
I didn’t buy it. Her friend Tessa seemed more charmed, living in the woods, doing psychic consultations, mainly to help people find lost things - including bodies.
Anyway, Nancy gets implausibly engaged, and then married, then there’s an epistolary section, and a bit of discussion of parapsychology. Later, the story turns more to Tessa, and the consequences of moderate fame, infamy, and investigation. There are chance meetings that are too convenient. The characters are mostly inconsistent and not credible. There’s mention of people’s need to believe in alternative reality. Very bitty time hops. The ending was odd and confusing.
This story was a mess. I hated it, and most of all, I hated that it was the last one of an otherwise very good collection.
Other Quotes
• “The whole countryside was changing, shaking itself loose” after a long period of endless rain.
• “They [outings] were what people did before they understood the realities of their lives.”
• “He was both a handsome man and a silly-looking man. Tall, lean, well built, but with a slouch that seemed artificial. A contrived, self-conscious air of menace… a vain little moustache, eyes that appeared both hopeful and mocking, a boyish smile perpetually on the verge of a sulk.”
• “It was as if she had a murderous needle somewhere in her lungs, 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.”
• “Trim abundance… a few repetitive houses” (suburbs).
• “She can tell by his voice that he is claiming her… He advances on her and she feels herself ransacked from top to bottom, flooded with relief, assaulted by happiness.”
• “The sort of card you send to an acquaintance whose tastes you cannot guess.”
• “The memory of him in the daily and ordinary world was in retreat.”
• “The smell did not make Grace hungry, exactly - it made her remember being hungry in other circumstances.”
• “Her casually provocative outfits.”
• “Everything might still be cheerful but the cheerfulness was hard as knives” (a couple, after drinking).
• “A bachelor’s room, with everything deliberate and necessary proclaiming a certain austere satisfaction.”
• “The conversation of kisses.”
• “Sporadic and secret, but, on the whole, comforting” (someone’s sex life).
July 3, 2020
Another superb collection of stories by Alice Munro. The stories in this collection are longer and often make giant leaps forward in time so we get a sense of the entire life of her characters. She also uses the same character in three stories. As usual, her main theme is the lives of women who can't quite find an inspiring home in the world in which they're forced to live. Dysfunctional relationships, especially with men but sometimes with daughters, abound. She's so good at evoking the settling dust of disappointment.
February 23, 2012
As seen on The Readventurer
Like many readers, I claim quite often that I am not really a fan of short stories, that is, I claim that until I come across the next good short story collection, like Alice Munro's Runaway. My imaginary dislike for shorts can surely be traced to reading too many poorly assembled multi-author anthologies. There are maybe two of them in existence that I can honestly call good. From my experience, single-author collections are much, much more satisfying.
Once again, I have a podcast to thank for discovering a new great author - this time, The New Yorker fiction podcast. The moment I finished listening to Munro's "Axis," I went straight to my digital public library to download me more of her stories.
What Alice Munro's stories remind me the most of are the works of another fabulous Canadian writer - Margaret Atwood, particularly The Blind Assassin and Cat's Eye. (Maybe Canadian books, similar to Australian, have a specific regional "flavor"? I am starting to believe they do, Canadian fiction tends to evokes feelings of cold, emptiness, spaciousness and loneliness in me.)
Munro's stories have the same structure, they are told through a prism of many years past, usually by a mature female narrator, who looks back in time and recollects a specific experience of her youth that changed the whole course of her life. The stories are told from a position of maturity and understanding, but with a feeling of a mild regret. In the present, decades later, those life-turning events do not sting as much as they used to, but the narrator knows unequivocally, they have changed EVERYTHING.
These events that Munro writes so beautifully about, can be quite trivial on the surface (like going on a wild car ride with one's passionless fiance's brother or being momentarily rude to an annoying passenger on a train) or traumatizing (appearance of a strange woman in a child's life who makes the strangest insinuations about the child's birth), but whatever these events are, they affect the narrator in a major way.
Munro's prose is deceptively simple and straightforward, but what she achieves with it is tremendous. Her fame as one of finest short story writers is well deserved.
Like many readers, I claim quite often that I am not really a fan of short stories, that is, I claim that until I come across the next good short story collection, like Alice Munro's Runaway. My imaginary dislike for shorts can surely be traced to reading too many poorly assembled multi-author anthologies. There are maybe two of them in existence that I can honestly call good. From my experience, single-author collections are much, much more satisfying.
Once again, I have a podcast to thank for discovering a new great author - this time, The New Yorker fiction podcast. The moment I finished listening to Munro's "Axis," I went straight to my digital public library to download me more of her stories.
What Alice Munro's stories remind me the most of are the works of another fabulous Canadian writer - Margaret Atwood, particularly The Blind Assassin and Cat's Eye. (Maybe Canadian books, similar to Australian, have a specific regional "flavor"? I am starting to believe they do, Canadian fiction tends to evokes feelings of cold, emptiness, spaciousness and loneliness in me.)
Munro's stories have the same structure, they are told through a prism of many years past, usually by a mature female narrator, who looks back in time and recollects a specific experience of her youth that changed the whole course of her life. The stories are told from a position of maturity and understanding, but with a feeling of a mild regret. In the present, decades later, those life-turning events do not sting as much as they used to, but the narrator knows unequivocally, they have changed EVERYTHING.
These events that Munro writes so beautifully about, can be quite trivial on the surface (like going on a wild car ride with one's passionless fiance's brother or being momentarily rude to an annoying passenger on a train) or traumatizing (appearance of a strange woman in a child's life who makes the strangest insinuations about the child's birth), but whatever these events are, they affect the narrator in a major way.
Munro's prose is deceptively simple and straightforward, but what she achieves with it is tremendous. Her fame as one of finest short story writers is well deserved.
January 8, 2010
in 1997, the reigning king of redonda, a tiny island & micronation in the bahamas, was so moved by superstar spanish writer javier marias's novel todas las almas that he abdicated the throne and handed it to marias. weird shit. so marias confers the title of 'duke' and 'duchess' to certain people, amongst them:
john ashbery (duke of convexo)
pedro almodovar (duke of trémula)
frank gehry (duke of nervión)
w.g. sebald (duke of vértigo)
guillermo cabrera infante (duke of tigres)
every year all the dukes and duchesses come together and vote for one person to receive a duchy. in 2005 they voted to cast amongst their ranks:
alice munro (duchess of ontario)
an island run by a spanish writer and a whole team of supercool artist royalty? i'm gonna ditch the by-now-boring united states of america and become redonda's only inhabitant.
here're my theories as to why redonda's royalty, most other writers, and lotsa readers have a huge boner for alice munro:
1. a) she's an old lady. b) she's canadian. c) she's a badass.
anyone who's alive in the world understands a few things:
a ≠ c & b ≠ c.
but somehow, in this instance: a + b = c.
this has gotta rattle the shit outta some people.
2. she bypasses all the tricks* lotsa contemporary writers employ** in order to tease out human behavior and all those lofty writery themes -- munro just sets it in motion and gets to the core quicker and with more poignancy than most others. contemporary writers who feel all the oldies peering over their shoulders & feel like they gotta do something new! & different! to distinguish themselves must secretly loathe munro for just spinning a yarn filled with more of the good shit than they pack into their stories of monsters-of-mud and comic books and hebraic constables etc.
3. y'know how francis ford coppola (the duke of megalópolis. seriously.) elevated the doings of scuzzy gangsters to the level of olympian gods? well, alice munro manages to pull a variation of this with totally ordinary people. it's even more impressive, really: she manages to pull the 'elevate to olympian god' thing while simultaneously keeping her stories small and creaky and specific.
4. it's 1983 and i'm laying on my back in the #6 school library while mrs. greene reads to us with her cracky old-woman's voice... i close my eyes and take in that dusty book smell and just get totally lost in the world of a great story. munro does this for adults. her stories are what stories meant to us when we were kids.
5. this book is not one of her strongest. but, paraphrasing woody allen on orgasms: the worst one is right on the money, the 'worst' is still pretty great.
6. "alice munro is our chekhov" - cynthia ozick
* yes, yes. realism and straightforward storytelling is a 'trick', another mode of storytelling as artificial as any type of formalism. blahblahblah. you know exfuckingactly what i mean here.
** occasionally munro employs those o. henryesque endings. these are amongst her weakest stories.
john ashbery (duke of convexo)
pedro almodovar (duke of trémula)
frank gehry (duke of nervión)
w.g. sebald (duke of vértigo)
guillermo cabrera infante (duke of tigres)
every year all the dukes and duchesses come together and vote for one person to receive a duchy. in 2005 they voted to cast amongst their ranks:
alice munro (duchess of ontario)
an island run by a spanish writer and a whole team of supercool artist royalty? i'm gonna ditch the by-now-boring united states of america and become redonda's only inhabitant.
here're my theories as to why redonda's royalty, most other writers, and lotsa readers have a huge boner for alice munro:
1. a) she's an old lady. b) she's canadian. c) she's a badass.
anyone who's alive in the world understands a few things:
a ≠ c & b ≠ c.
but somehow, in this instance: a + b = c.
this has gotta rattle the shit outta some people.
2. she bypasses all the tricks* lotsa contemporary writers employ** in order to tease out human behavior and all those lofty writery themes -- munro just sets it in motion and gets to the core quicker and with more poignancy than most others. contemporary writers who feel all the oldies peering over their shoulders & feel like they gotta do something new! & different! to distinguish themselves must secretly loathe munro for just spinning a yarn filled with more of the good shit than they pack into their stories of monsters-of-mud and comic books and hebraic constables etc.
3. y'know how francis ford coppola (the duke of megalópolis. seriously.) elevated the doings of scuzzy gangsters to the level of olympian gods? well, alice munro manages to pull a variation of this with totally ordinary people. it's even more impressive, really: she manages to pull the 'elevate to olympian god' thing while simultaneously keeping her stories small and creaky and specific.
4. it's 1983 and i'm laying on my back in the #6 school library while mrs. greene reads to us with her cracky old-woman's voice... i close my eyes and take in that dusty book smell and just get totally lost in the world of a great story. munro does this for adults. her stories are what stories meant to us when we were kids.
5. this book is not one of her strongest. but, paraphrasing woody allen on orgasms: the worst one is right on the money, the 'worst' is still pretty great.
6. "alice munro is our chekhov" - cynthia ozick
* yes, yes. realism and straightforward storytelling is a 'trick', another mode of storytelling as artificial as any type of formalism. blahblahblah. you know exfuckingactly what i mean here.
** occasionally munro employs those o. henryesque endings. these are amongst her weakest stories.
February 9, 2020
I agree with those that claim Alice Munro stories are like novels, in that they are expansive. You're left feeling you've departed a journey with these characters that you've come to like, detest and feel disappointed in. Also, they're longer than the average short story. But Munro, in sweeping wonderful prose writes such striking characters in mostly small ordinary Canadian towns.
February 1, 2021
3.5★
“In the brief note she left, she had used the word “authentic.” I have always felt the need of a more authentic kind of life. I know I cannot expect you to understand this.”
That was Carla's note to her parents when she ran away with Clark, a no-good drifter, as her stepfather called him. She says he saved up the money for a farm, so he can’t be all bad. But he IS temperamental.
“Clark often had fights, and not just with the people he owed money to. His friendliness, compelling at first, could suddenly turn sour. There were places in town that he would not go into, because of some row.”
Carla and Clark run a small riding school with very few clients and horses, and things are tight. They live in a mobile home which she keeps trying to fix up. She works a bit for an older, well-to-do university couple nearby.
Sylvia, the wife, is now a widow and has returned after a holiday in Greece. She compares Carla to to her students, the college girls who hang on her every word. That’s not Carla. Carla reminds her more of some girls she knew in high school, “buoyant but not rambunctious. Naturally happy.” (Dare I say “authentic”?)
We know that Carla has made up some stories and is just a big kid in many ways. She often escapes to the barn to do what I suppose she thinks of as “authentic” work, mucking out stables, while Clark juggles the bills and the books and real life. He has good reason to be irritable, but she’s unhappy and getting itchy feet again. She's also nervous about the consequences of her tall tales.
Lonely Sylvia tries to sit Carla down to talk (and talk and talk) about how wonderful Greece was, staying in a tiny village with nothing to do but go for walks. (More of that wonderfully simple, authentic life.)
Her influence on unhappy, naive Carla has dramatic repercussions. Alongside Carla’s escapades are those of a very small goat, Flora, who disappears, reappears, disappears. She starts off as company for the horses, but seems to represent more.
It's an interesting study of power and control. Oh, yes, and "authenticity". How could I forget the universal hankering for the romance of the simple life?
This was a story from The Bound Together Group’s short story discussion:
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
The story itself was in the New Yorker:
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/20...
And there are links to more Alice Munro stories here:
https://nothingintherulebook.com/2016...
“In the brief note she left, she had used the word “authentic.” I have always felt the need of a more authentic kind of life. I know I cannot expect you to understand this.”
That was Carla's note to her parents when she ran away with Clark, a no-good drifter, as her stepfather called him. She says he saved up the money for a farm, so he can’t be all bad. But he IS temperamental.
“Clark often had fights, and not just with the people he owed money to. His friendliness, compelling at first, could suddenly turn sour. There were places in town that he would not go into, because of some row.”
Carla and Clark run a small riding school with very few clients and horses, and things are tight. They live in a mobile home which she keeps trying to fix up. She works a bit for an older, well-to-do university couple nearby.
Sylvia, the wife, is now a widow and has returned after a holiday in Greece. She compares Carla to to her students, the college girls who hang on her every word. That’s not Carla. Carla reminds her more of some girls she knew in high school, “buoyant but not rambunctious. Naturally happy.” (Dare I say “authentic”?)
We know that Carla has made up some stories and is just a big kid in many ways. She often escapes to the barn to do what I suppose she thinks of as “authentic” work, mucking out stables, while Clark juggles the bills and the books and real life. He has good reason to be irritable, but she’s unhappy and getting itchy feet again. She's also nervous about the consequences of her tall tales.
Lonely Sylvia tries to sit Carla down to talk (and talk and talk) about how wonderful Greece was, staying in a tiny village with nothing to do but go for walks. (More of that wonderfully simple, authentic life.)
Her influence on unhappy, naive Carla has dramatic repercussions. Alongside Carla’s escapades are those of a very small goat, Flora, who disappears, reappears, disappears. She starts off as company for the horses, but seems to represent more.
It's an interesting study of power and control. Oh, yes, and "authenticity". How could I forget the universal hankering for the romance of the simple life?
This was a story from The Bound Together Group’s short story discussion:
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
The story itself was in the New Yorker:
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/20...
And there are links to more Alice Munro stories here:
https://nothingintherulebook.com/2016...
September 7, 2022
کتاب شامل سه تا داستان بود که من دوتای آخر خیلی دست داشتم.👌🏻
November 13, 2019
Με το βιβλίο αυτό συνάντησα ένα παράδοξο.
Η γραφή του ήταν καταπληκτική - μιλάμε για αριστουργηματική σε σημεία σημεία - σε βαθμό που όταν το έπιανα στα χέρια μου, μόνο και μόνο γι αυτό το λόγο, δεν μπορούσα να το αφήσω.
Έλα όμως που δεν είχα και ιδιαίτερα τη διάθεση να το πιάσω στα χέρια μου! Και αυτό λόγω κυρίως του περιεχόμενού του. Όλες αυτές οι ιστορίες των κοριτσιών - γυναικών που ζούσαν, ερωτεύονταν και γερνούσαν μέσα σε ένα γλυκ��ρό φόντο, δεν με άγγιξαν καθόλου.
Δεν το λέω με καθόλου ρατσιστική ή φαλλοκρατική διάθεση, προς Θεού!
Απλώς, προφανώς είναι διαφορετικά τα πράγματα που συγκινούν τον καθένα μας, και για μένα βιβλία αυτού του τύπου φαίνεται ότι δεν είναι του στυλ μου.
Πιστεύω ότι είναι ένα από τα βιβλία που πολλοί θα αγαπήσουν, αλλά και πολλοί θα μισήσουν, χωρίς κάποιος να έχει απαραίτητα άδικο.
Η γραφή του ήταν καταπληκτική - μιλάμε για αριστουργηματική σε σημεία σημεία - σε βαθμό που όταν το έπιανα στα χέρια μου, μόνο και μόνο γι αυτό το λόγο, δεν μπορούσα να το αφήσω.
Έλα όμως που δεν είχα και ιδιαίτερα τη διάθεση να το πιάσω στα χέρια μου! Και αυτό λόγω κυρίως του περιεχόμενού του. Όλες αυτές οι ιστορίες των κοριτσιών - γυναικών που ζούσαν, ερωτεύονταν και γερνούσαν μέσα σε ένα γλυκ��ρό φόντο, δεν με άγγιξαν καθόλου.
Δεν το λέω με καθόλου ρατσιστική ή φαλλοκρατική διάθεση, προς Θεού!
Απλώς, προφανώς είναι διαφορετικά τα πράγματα που συγκινούν τον καθένα μας, και για μένα βιβλία αυτού του τύπου φαίνεται ότι δεν είναι του στυλ μου.
Πιστεύω ότι είναι ένα από τα βιβλία που πολλοί θα αγαπήσουν, αλλά και πολλοί θα μισήσουν, χωρίς κάποιος να έχει απαραίτητα άδικο.
August 8, 2022
Short stories can be deeply unsatisfying. Too often the nuance overshadows character and plot development, as if the author is cruelly trying to offer the reader a tiny taste of a story before yanking it away again. No so with Alice Munro. She writes with simplicity and economy and mystery. The mystery arises from the way that she presents each story--just a few words at the outset, perfectly descriptive, but never overly so. And then the rest of it is just like (**alert**be prepared for tired metaphors) unwrapping a gift or watching a flower bloom in those sped-up photos. Except, of course, that these flowers bloom tantalizingly slowly as the story unfolds.
There's a wide range of human situations that Ms. Munro considers in Runaway, all of them complicated, most painful, some almost humorous, and many of them frustrating. This is much like life, I guess. Deeply imperfect and driven by chance and misunderstanding and weakness. And yet the way that she presents life makes me feel as if every bit of it is just exactly as it should be.
There's a wide range of human situations that Ms. Munro considers in Runaway, all of them complicated, most painful, some almost humorous, and many of them frustrating. This is much like life, I guess. Deeply imperfect and driven by chance and misunderstanding and weakness. And yet the way that she presents life makes me feel as if every bit of it is just exactly as it should be.
August 16, 2017
O realizador espanhol Pedro Almodovar adaptou ao cinema os contos Acaso, Em Breve e Silêncio - com Juliet como protagonista.
Adoro contos...
A escritora canadiana Alice Munro (n. 1931) – de quem li recentemente ”O Progresso do Amor” (1985 - 1986) - 4*, Falsos Segredos (1994) - 5* e ”Ódio, Amizade, Namoro, Amor, Casamento” (2001) - 4* - Prémio Nobel da Literatura em 2013 é uma “especialista” na narrativa curta, reconhecida e aclamada como um ”mestre do conto contemporâneo”, apenas com um único romance publicado em 1971,”Vidas de Raparigas e Mulheres”.
”Fugas” (2004) é mais uma deslumbrante colectânea de oito contos – sobre mulheres “reais”, nos seus sentimentos e na sua complexidade emocional, de todas as idades, de todas as classes sociais, de todos os níveis de instrução académica – com descrições profundas, impregnadas de sequências simbólicas, com reflexões sociológicas e filosóficas absorventes.
Por vezes, Alice Munro cria algum suspense na narrativa, interrompendo-o um pouco mais à frente, deixando o leitor levemente insatisfeito; mas retomando-o mais tarde como um momento culminante da história.
A escrita em ”Fugas” nunca desilude, inteligente e metódica, num mundo fictício de Alice Munro, que se vai tornando real e profundo para o leitor, onde quase todas as histórias nos falam sobre o passado e sobre o presente, com inúmeras lacunas e saltos temporais, algumas de meses, outros de mais de quarenta anos; mas que nos envolvem invariavelmente no seu dia-a-dia, nos seus problemas, na sua felicidade e na suas tristezas; algumas jovens mulheres que actuam sobre o desejo de serem felizes, da realização sexual ou romântica, de se libertarem definitivamente do preconceito social, de enveredarem pela mudança e pela estabilidade afectiva.
Os dois melhores contos:
1 - Fugida - 5*
Carla e o seu marido, Clark vivem numa quinta – com cavalariças – tratando de cavalos e éguas; dedicam-se, simultaneamente, ao ensino da equitação a jovens.
Sylvia Jamieson a vizinha, recentemente viúva, percebe que a união de Carla e o temperamental Clark está em crise.
”Mrs. Jamieson (…) temia ter-se envolvido demais na vida de Carla e que cometera o erro de supor que a felicidade e a liberdade de Carla eram uma e a mesma coisa.” (Pág. 41)
Flora, uma pequena cabrinha branca desaparece misteriosamente da quinta; acaba por aparecer mais tarde de uma forma misteriosa.
O destino de Carla e de Flora estão intimamente ligados…
”Com a aproximação dos dias dourados e secos do outono – uma estação produtiva e motivante – Carla descobriu que se habituara ao pensamento pontiagudo que nela se alojara. Já não era tão pontiagudo; aliás, já não a surpreendia. E agora sentia-se invadida por uma ideia quase sedutora, uma tentação em constante latência.
Só tinha de erguer os olhos, só tinha de olhar numa certa direcção, para saber para onde podia ir.” (Pág. 42)
7 - Truques - 5*
Robin é uma jovem que realiza uma viagem anual para Stratord com o intuito de ver uma peça de teatro de Skakespeare.
Numa dessas viagens perde a carteira e encontra Danilo Adzic.
Se…
”Os gémeos são frequentemente causa de mal-entendidos e acidentes em Skakespeare. Um meio para um fim, é o que se supõe serem esses truques. E no fim resolvem-se os mistérios, perdoam-se as partidas, reacende-se o amor verdadeiro ou algo que o valha, e os que foram enganados têm bom génio e não reclamam.” (Pág. 210)
”Difícil imaginar agora, pela maneira como as coisas eram então.
Foi tudo estragado num dia, em alguns minutos, não aos soluços, com vários esforços e conflitos, esperanças e perdas, no modo esgotante como se costumam estragar as coisas. E se é verdade que geralmente se estragam, não seria essa maneira rápida a mais fácil de suportar?
Mas não é assim que se vêem as coisas, não quando somos nós que estamos implicados.”
May 17, 2020
Runaway is another wonderful collection of short stories from the masterful Alice Munro. This is the second book of hers that I've read and I'm starting to see a common theme emerge. The protagonists are usually women, and the stories usually revolve around a crucial moment in their lives. They often look back on the decisions they have made with a mixture of regret and remorse.
Three of the stories focus on Juliet, a teacher, at different stages of her life. In Chance, she meets her future husband on an eventful train journey. In the second story, Soon, she brings baby Penelope to see her parents, and becomes dismayed at the changes she sees in them. Then in Silence, a grown-up Penelope distances herself from her mother, and Juliet sadly learns to accept her role in their heartbreaking rift. Other stories I enjoyed included Tricks, in which a lonely girl loses out on her one chance of a meaningful relationship, due to a simple misunderstanding. And the title tale, where a young woman struggles to leave her overbearing husband.
I think the reason I love Munro's writing so much is because there is such emotional intelligence to it. She is so good at capturing the interior lives of her characters, that you feel like you understand them deeply, over the course of just a few pages. Her best stories tend to linger in my mind for days afterwards. I feel excited about her work that I have yet to read.
Favourite Quotes:
"Juliet knew that, to many people, she might seem to be odd and solitary—and so, in a way, she was. But she had also had the experience, for much of her life, of feeling surrounded by people who wanted to drain away her attention and her time and her soul. And usually, she let them."
"That is what happens. You put it away for a little while, and now and again you look in the closet for something else and you remember, and you think, soon. Then it becomes something that is just there, in the closet, and other things get crowded in front of it and on top of it and finally you don’t think about it at all. The thing that was your bright treasure. You don’t think about it. A loss you could not contemplate at one time, and now it becomes something you can barely remember. That is what happens."
"She thought about Eric in this way all the time. It was not that she failed to realize that Eric was dead—that did not happen for a moment. But nevertheless she kept constantly referring to him, in her mind, as if he was still the person to whom her existence mattered more than it could to anyone else. As if he was still the person in whose eyes she hoped to shine. Also the person to whom she presented arguments, information, surprises. This was such a habit with her, and took place so automatically, that the fact of his death did not seem to interfere with it."
"She never felt more at ease than at these times, surrounded by strangers. After the play she would walk downtown, along the river, and find some inexpensive place to eat—usually a sandwich, as she sat on a stool at the counter. And at twenty to eight she would catch the train home. That was all. Yet those few hours filled her with an assurance that the life she was going back to, which seemed so makeshift and unsatisfactory, was only temporary and could easily be put up with. And there was a radiance behind it, behind that life, behind everything, expressed by the sunlight seen through the train windows. The sunlight and long shadows on the summer fields, like the remains of the play in her head."
Three of the stories focus on Juliet, a teacher, at different stages of her life. In Chance, she meets her future husband on an eventful train journey. In the second story, Soon, she brings baby Penelope to see her parents, and becomes dismayed at the changes she sees in them. Then in Silence, a grown-up Penelope distances herself from her mother, and Juliet sadly learns to accept her role in their heartbreaking rift. Other stories I enjoyed included Tricks, in which a lonely girl loses out on her one chance of a meaningful relationship, due to a simple misunderstanding. And the title tale, where a young woman struggles to leave her overbearing husband.
I think the reason I love Munro's writing so much is because there is such emotional intelligence to it. She is so good at capturing the interior lives of her characters, that you feel like you understand them deeply, over the course of just a few pages. Her best stories tend to linger in my mind for days afterwards. I feel excited about her work that I have yet to read.
Favourite Quotes:
"Juliet knew that, to many people, she might seem to be odd and solitary—and so, in a way, she was. But she had also had the experience, for much of her life, of feeling surrounded by people who wanted to drain away her attention and her time and her soul. And usually, she let them."
"That is what happens. You put it away for a little while, and now and again you look in the closet for something else and you remember, and you think, soon. Then it becomes something that is just there, in the closet, and other things get crowded in front of it and on top of it and finally you don’t think about it at all. The thing that was your bright treasure. You don’t think about it. A loss you could not contemplate at one time, and now it becomes something you can barely remember. That is what happens."
"She thought about Eric in this way all the time. It was not that she failed to realize that Eric was dead—that did not happen for a moment. But nevertheless she kept constantly referring to him, in her mind, as if he was still the person to whom her existence mattered more than it could to anyone else. As if he was still the person in whose eyes she hoped to shine. Also the person to whom she presented arguments, information, surprises. This was such a habit with her, and took place so automatically, that the fact of his death did not seem to interfere with it."
"She never felt more at ease than at these times, surrounded by strangers. After the play she would walk downtown, along the river, and find some inexpensive place to eat—usually a sandwich, as she sat on a stool at the counter. And at twenty to eight she would catch the train home. That was all. Yet those few hours filled her with an assurance that the life she was going back to, which seemed so makeshift and unsatisfactory, was only temporary and could easily be put up with. And there was a radiance behind it, behind that life, behind everything, expressed by the sunlight seen through the train windows. The sunlight and long shadows on the summer fields, like the remains of the play in her head."
May 7, 2011
Here's what Jonathan Franzen said about this book in the NY Times Book Review:
Basically, 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.
But here's what Michiko Kakutani says about it in the NY Times:
Instead of assuming the organic, musical form of real life, they feel like self-conscious, overworked tales, relying on awkwardly withheld secrets and O'Henryesque twists to create narrative suspense.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNG. WRONG.
Franzen's right. Just read it. It's good. It's not THAT good, it's too simple and straightforward to really rock your world on a spiritual level, but it's really really good. Her stories are long (sometimes a bit too) and have a ton of emotional weight, which a lot of these tricky young writers seem to forget to include in the name of fun. No tricks here. Just good stories. That's the Alice Munro promise.
Basically, 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.
But here's what Michiko Kakutani says about it in the NY Times:
Instead of assuming the organic, musical form of real life, they feel like self-conscious, overworked tales, relying on awkwardly withheld secrets and O'Henryesque twists to create narrative suspense.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNG. WRONG.
Franzen's right. Just read it. It's good. It's not THAT good, it's too simple and straightforward to really rock your world on a spiritual level, but it's really really good. Her stories are long (sometimes a bit too) and have a ton of emotional weight, which a lot of these tricky young writers seem to forget to include in the name of fun. No tricks here. Just good stories. That's the Alice Munro promise.
April 28, 2015
One of Munro's best books, Runaway is also one of her most thematically consistent collections. The idea of "running away" or "escape" permeates each tale. And what to make of the fact that the book consists of clipped, one-word titles? Intriguing.
I love the linked sequence of three narratives ("Chance," "Soon," and "Silence"), and if you read carefully you'll see each of those words is repeated significantly in other stories, especially "chance." (Think of the chain of events in "Tricks," the sudden swerve in the plot in "Passion," another word that resonates throughout the book.)
There are echoes of previous Munro stories here: the two sisters from "Tricks" and "Powers" recall those in "The Peace Of Utrecht" and "Something I've Been Meaning To Tell You"; Juliet's journalism career recalls Rose's career in Who Do You Think You Are/The Beggar Maid; there's a spooky feel in the title story that reminds me a bit of "Save The Reaper"; the hapless husbands or husbands-to-be in "Passion" and "Powers" recall previous ones like Patrick Blatchford.
Of course Munro once again sees everything about her characters and compresses entire lives into a couple dozen pages. The scope of the final story, "Powers," is astonishing, as is the protagonist's hard-to-read motivations.
I'll definitely revisit these stories later, especially "Passion," one of her best, and "Runaway," one of her most mysterious.
If there were half stars I'd give this 4 1/2. But I'm rounding up, because, well, she's one of the best writers in the world.
**
Here's my review of 2009's Too Much Happiness:
http://www.nowtoronto.com/daily/story...
I love the linked sequence of three narratives ("Chance," "Soon," and "Silence"), and if you read carefully you'll see each of those words is repeated significantly in other stories, especially "chance." (Think of the chain of events in "Tricks," the sudden swerve in the plot in "Passion," another word that resonates throughout the book.)
There are echoes of previous Munro stories here: the two sisters from "Tricks" and "Powers" recall those in "The Peace Of Utrecht" and "Something I've Been Meaning To Tell You"; Juliet's journalism career recalls Rose's career in Who Do You Think You Are/The Beggar Maid; there's a spooky feel in the title story that reminds me a bit of "Save The Reaper"; the hapless husbands or husbands-to-be in "Passion" and "Powers" recall previous ones like Patrick Blatchford.
Of course Munro once again sees everything about her characters and compresses entire lives into a couple dozen pages. The scope of the final story, "Powers," is astonishing, as is the protagonist's hard-to-read motivations.
I'll definitely revisit these stories later, especially "Passion," one of her best, and "Runaway," one of her most mysterious.
If there were half stars I'd give this 4 1/2. But I'm rounding up, because, well, she's one of the best writers in the world.
**
Here's my review of 2009's Too Much Happiness:
http://www.nowtoronto.com/daily/story...
October 17, 2017
Runaway is one of the short story collections of 2013 Nobel Prize winner, Canadian Alice Munro. I listened to the book, and really liked it, though I am a white middle-class, late-middle-aged man, and this book features white middle-class Canadian (particularly from Ontario) women, many of them late-middle aged. The focus is on stories of women and girls, on relationships, sometimes with men, and the every day, in every day language. They are unfussy, unpretentious, realistic literary fiction. I initially had to slow down to appreciate the style, as it is so elegant and understated, and then I found myself hooked.
We have stories here of mothers estranged from their daughters, of lonely women hoping for passion of some kind, stories of aging, stories of ordinary grief and madness.
I think my two favorite stories are the opening, title story, “Runaway,” and the closing story, “Powers.”
In “Runaway,”a young woman confides in a neighbor about her unhappy marriage, and the older woman assists in helping her escape to Toronto. Here’s a passage from the woman as she rides on the bus:
“She could not picture it. Herself riding on the subway or streetcar, caring for new horses, talking to new people, living among hordes of people every day who were not Clark.
A life, a place, chosen for that specific reason––that it would not contain Clark.
The strange and terrible thing coming clear to her about that world of the future, as she now pictured it, was that she would not exist there. She would only walk around, and open her mouth and speak, and do this and do that. She would not really be there. And what was strange about it was that she was doing all this, she was riding on this bus in the hope of recovering herself. As Mrs. Jamieson might say––and as she herself might with satisfaction have said––taking charge of her own life. With nobody glowering over her, nobody's mood infecting her with misery.
But what would she care about? How would she know that she was alive?
While she was running away from him––now––Clark still kept his place in her life. But when she was finished running away, when she just went on, what would she put in his place? What else––who else––could ever be so vivid a challenge?”
The story is ultimately powerfully sad; we know this woman; she is our neighbor, she cannot do the thing she needs to do.
"Powers," the eighth and final story in the collection, is divided into five parts, featuring a woman, Nancy, who imagines greatness for herself but ends up marrying a guy, Wilff, she has little affection for. Oops, Nancy, so much for greatness! As she is preparing for her wedding, Nancy meets a woman with psychic powers, Tessa. At one point Tessa correctly identifies all of the items in a guy named Ollie's pockets. Ollie soon marries (the remarkable and fascinating) Tessa (!!) and they actually get involved in a Vaudeville act showcasing Tessa’s abilities. But in a later part of the story, Nancy visits Tessa in a mental hospital, where she has received electroshock treatment and can’t recall her past with Ollie, whom she expects has died. In another part Nancy meets Ollie, who tells her Tessa had died. Nancy doesn’t contradict Ollie. As a much older woman, Nancy dreams of Tessa and Ollie.
This story has the most remarkable character, Tessa, I guess, but it is, like all the other stories, also about ordinary people living lives of quiet desperation. It haunts me; they haunt me.
We have stories here of mothers estranged from their daughters, of lonely women hoping for passion of some kind, stories of aging, stories of ordinary grief and madness.
I think my two favorite stories are the opening, title story, “Runaway,” and the closing story, “Powers.”
In “Runaway,”a young woman confides in a neighbor about her unhappy marriage, and the older woman assists in helping her escape to Toronto. Here’s a passage from the woman as she rides on the bus:
“She could not picture it. Herself riding on the subway or streetcar, caring for new horses, talking to new people, living among hordes of people every day who were not Clark.
A life, a place, chosen for that specific reason––that it would not contain Clark.
The strange and terrible thing coming clear to her about that world of the future, as she now pictured it, was that she would not exist there. She would only walk around, and open her mouth and speak, and do this and do that. She would not really be there. And what was strange about it was that she was doing all this, she was riding on this bus in the hope of recovering herself. As Mrs. Jamieson might say––and as she herself might with satisfaction have said––taking charge of her own life. With nobody glowering over her, nobody's mood infecting her with misery.
But what would she care about? How would she know that she was alive?
While she was running away from him––now––Clark still kept his place in her life. But when she was finished running away, when she just went on, what would she put in his place? What else––who else––could ever be so vivid a challenge?”
The story is ultimately powerfully sad; we know this woman; she is our neighbor, she cannot do the thing she needs to do.
"Powers," the eighth and final story in the collection, is divided into five parts, featuring a woman, Nancy, who imagines greatness for herself but ends up marrying a guy, Wilff, she has little affection for. Oops, Nancy, so much for greatness! As she is preparing for her wedding, Nancy meets a woman with psychic powers, Tessa. At one point Tessa correctly identifies all of the items in a guy named Ollie's pockets. Ollie soon marries (the remarkable and fascinating) Tessa (!!) and they actually get involved in a Vaudeville act showcasing Tessa’s abilities. But in a later part of the story, Nancy visits Tessa in a mental hospital, where she has received electroshock treatment and can’t recall her past with Ollie, whom she expects has died. In another part Nancy meets Ollie, who tells her Tessa had died. Nancy doesn’t contradict Ollie. As a much older woman, Nancy dreams of Tessa and Ollie.
This story has the most remarkable character, Tessa, I guess, but it is, like all the other stories, also about ordinary people living lives of quiet desperation. It haunts me; they haunt me.
October 16, 2016
öykülerde detaylı ve derinleşen bölümlerle, uzun zaman aralıkları, olay örgüsünde boşluklar ve dağınıklık iç içe. alice munro sanki aralarda söz alıp yol gösteriyor ve sonrasını okura bırakıyor. öyküleri tamamlamak, anlamlandırmak ve hatta hayatta olayları değerlendirmek, insanları anlamak için munro anlatısının verdiği sır ise ölçülü ve incelikli olmak.
alice munro'yu dünyanın en iyi öykücülerinden biri yapan ölçülülüğü ve inceliği. olayları felaketler ya da mucizeler olarak görmüyoruz öykülerinde. insanlar ne mağdur ne suçlu ne de kahraman. duygulara boğulmuyoruz, hayat hakkında söylev dinlemiyoruz. öyküler, evet böyle akar diyoruz, zaman böyle geçer, insanlar böyledir...yargılamadan, yüceltmeden ya da aşağılamadan anlama hissi kalıyor öykülerden geriye. anlama, anlamadan çok anlayış.
alice munro'yu dünyanın en iyi öykücülerinden biri yapan ölçülülüğü ve inceliği. olayları felaketler ya da mucizeler olarak görmüyoruz öykülerinde. insanlar ne mağdur ne suçlu ne de kahraman. duygulara boğulmuyoruz, hayat hakkında söylev dinlemiyoruz. öyküler, evet böyle akar diyoruz, zaman böyle geçer, insanlar böyledir...yargılamadan, yüceltmeden ya da aşağılamadan anlama hissi kalıyor öykülerden geriye. anlama, anlamadan çok anlayış.
November 16, 2015
Sau khi đọc xong Something I've Been Meaning to Tell You và đọc gần hết Runaway của Alice Munro (bản dịch tiếng Việt là Trốn chạy), có thể kết luận rằng tuy Alice Munro đoạt giải Nobel, nhưng bà ấy viết hay, thậm chí rất hay ^.^ Chắc sẽ tiến ngay sang cuốn thứ ba là Cuộc đời yêu dấu.
Chất liệu truyện của bà giản dị. Bà không thuộc dạng nhà văn bịa ra những tình huống dị thường, kỳ quái hay gây sốc, nên có người bảo văn bà tẻ. Mình thì thấy không tẻ chút nào. Lúc nào đọc bà, cũng hình dung ra một bà già ngồi trong xó bếp mà biết hết chuyện thế gian, hiểu hết lẽ đời, thấu suốt tâm can con người, bởi lẽ truyện của bà cho thấy con người là một động vật cực kỳ phức tạp như đúng là như thế. Vì sao một cô con gái sống với mẹ hai mốt năm trời, rồi bỗng dưng ra đi, không để lại bất cứ tin nhắn hay cách thức liên lạc nào, trừ tấm thiệp không có dòng chữ nào gửi về cho mẹ vào đúng dịp sinh nhật mình? Vì sao một cô gái có người yêu sắp lấy nhau đến nơi lại bỏ đi, tận hưởng hoan lạc với một thằng phải gió nát rượu? Những chuyện ấy, thường người ta sẽ tặc lưỡi bảo không sao hiểu nổi, cũng như không thể nào hiểu nổi một nhà thơ có tài và có tiếng một ngày đẹp trời bỗng dưng xoay sang đạo thơ! Nhưng, con người mà, phức tạp lắm, có bao giờ đơn giản, một chiều đâu, và Munro hiểu rõ điều ấy.
Nếu mình là người viết truyện ngắn, mình sẽ chọn Alice Munro (và Raymond Carver và Chekhov) làm thầy, thay vì Kafka hay Borges, vì Alice Munro có thể học theo được, chứ hai đồng chí kia là ca khó, quá khó.
Chất liệu truyện của bà giản dị. Bà không thuộc dạng nhà văn bịa ra những tình huống dị thường, kỳ quái hay gây sốc, nên có người bảo văn bà tẻ. Mình thì thấy không tẻ chút nào. Lúc nào đọc bà, cũng hình dung ra một bà già ngồi trong xó bếp mà biết hết chuyện thế gian, hiểu hết lẽ đời, thấu suốt tâm can con người, bởi lẽ truyện của bà cho thấy con người là một động vật cực kỳ phức tạp như đúng là như thế. Vì sao một cô con gái sống với mẹ hai mốt năm trời, rồi bỗng dưng ra đi, không để lại bất cứ tin nhắn hay cách thức liên lạc nào, trừ tấm thiệp không có dòng chữ nào gửi về cho mẹ vào đúng dịp sinh nhật mình? Vì sao một cô gái có người yêu sắp lấy nhau đến nơi lại bỏ đi, tận hưởng hoan lạc với một thằng phải gió nát rượu? Những chuyện ấy, thường người ta sẽ tặc lưỡi bảo không sao hiểu nổi, cũng như không thể nào hiểu nổi một nhà thơ có tài và có tiếng một ngày đẹp trời bỗng dưng xoay sang đạo thơ! Nhưng, con người mà, phức tạp lắm, có bao giờ đơn giản, một chiều đâu, và Munro hiểu rõ điều ấy.
Nếu mình là người viết truyện ngắn, mình sẽ chọn Alice Munro (và Raymond Carver và Chekhov) làm thầy, thay vì Kafka hay Borges, vì Alice Munro có thể học theo được, chứ hai đồng chí kia là ca khó, quá khó.
June 9, 2016
I do not usually prefer short stories, but Alice Munro's "Runaway" is an exception. Munro's work as a whole, in fact. Everybody knows that short stories are more difficult to perfect than the novel, thus the lack of well-written ones.
What makes her sorry stories stand out? One notable difference is that Munro's short stories are actually not that short. Strictly in words, many lean towards the lengthier "definition". (Short stories are not defined by length as much as structure. Although there's is no official demarcation for length, the range has been loosely defined at 1 to 20 thousand words, and that it can be read in an hour at the most; shorter than a novel [typically 80 to 100 thousand words]). Moreover, her readers will quickly realize that they are quite similar to novels in the feeling and immersing story they offer. Munro's stories have the scope of a novel, but without any obvious speeding up or trimming. How exactly she does this is arguable an art.
Two, I love that the same theme- sometimes obvious, other times more difficult to decipher- runs through the entire book, further creating the feeling for a cohesive novel rather than sorry stories. (For example, this collection. Each of the protagonists is running from something; hiding, escaping, trying to find themselves. Runaway emotions, running from the truth, literally running away from their residences. A feeling of loneliness in a room full of others, of needing to overcome much despite outward appearances of needing nothing. Multiple interpretations for the title word, from slang to straightforward, are used throughout.)
Thirdly, All the stories are from a female protagonist's point of view ("Powers" lends a portion to a male point of view). They all go through something significant during the narration; they all change, though not always in a positive way. For many, this change is a life-altering one.
Munro's collection of the same title, concerns two runaways: "Carla, whose abusive husband, Clark, inspires her to run away, and Sylvia, her neighbor who encourages Carla's runaway attempt. Sylvia's husband has passed away, and she comes to rely on Carla for help around her house and develops an obsessive concern for her abused friend. Sylvia's friends describe her affection for Carla as a crush. While Carla resents Clark's abuse, it seems apparent that without Sylvia's planning and urging she would not have taken a bus out of town, only to get off the bus and call Clark to come and get her. Significantly, Carla, who is wearing some of Sylvia's clothes, decides that the clothes do not “fit” her.
Sylvia, who later moves to an apartment in town, also may be considered a runaway. Besides the two women, there is another runaway: Flora, Carla's pet goat, who mysteriously vanishes and returns in supernatural fashion when Clark threatens Sylvia physically. The goat's sudden appearance saves Sylvia, and then Flora again vanishes. After Carla returns to Clark, she finds Flora's bones in the woods. She speculates about how Flora died and then absolves Clark of any guilt—something she has to do if she is to go on living with him. In effect, she runs away from the truth; Flora's fate could become hers."
There next three chapters are actually about the same characters, with tears in between. This circumvents the loose definitions for short stories actually, (perhaps purposely). "We meet Juliet first as a studious young teacher, then as a young mother visiting her elderly parents, and finally as a late middle-aged woman sundered from her own grown-up daughter. It turns out that the independence and rationalism we have admired in Juliet have alienated her child, who has left in search of the spiritual things she never had at home."
"In "Tricks", Robin, a young nurse who goes off by herself each year to see a Shakespeare play at Stratford, Ontario, is caught up in, and caught out by, a bit of plotting as artificial as a Shakespearean comedy. What if, Munro seems to say, the romantic susceptibilities of an inexperienced young woman were to be exposed to the comic doublings of a Twelfth Night or The Comedy of Errors. Another illustration of Munro's scope, this reminded me of O. Henry's " The Gift of the Magi", but covering an adult lifetime rather than one Christmas, the confusion of identity sorted out, not at the end of the evening, but a whole adult lifetime later. As exceedingly frustrating and small chances of actually happening, but certainly believable, it was actually my favorite.
"Trespasses" is similar, an examination of finding out unknown identities, a frustrating coincidence with a narrow possibility of occurring but definitely believable; a life-changing, both fortunate and unfortunate (depending in one's philosophy of "ignorance is bliss") happenstance for all the characters involved.
"Powers," the eighth and final story in the collection, is divided into five parts. (Interesting to consider it as an example of Freytag's pyramid theory). The first part comprises the diaries of Nancy, a self-centered young woman convinced that she is destined to have some great importance. She startles the town doctor, Wilf, on April Fool's Day by pretending to have a terminal illness; when she later tries to apologize to him, he unexpectedly proposes to her. Nancy, ashamed of her conduct, accepts his proposal although she feels little affection for him. She expresses surprise that her life has proved so mundane after all.
The second part shifts into third-person narration and takes place several months after the first part. Nancy and Wilf are engaged and preparing for their wedding. Wilf's cousin Ollie is in town to attend the ceremony, and Nancy becomes fascinated by his worldly affectations. In an attempt to impress him, she takes Ollie to visit Tessa, a friend of hers that lives on the outskirts of town. Tessa has psychic abilities that allow her to see through objects; she correctly identifies all of the items in Ollie's pockets. Ollie seemingly dismisses her, but Nancy fears that he is hiding a deeper interest. She writes Tessa, warning her to avoid Ollie. Tessa responds, revealing that she and Ollie have already eloped to the United States. They intend to get married and test her abilities scientifically.
Nancy is now an aging woman visiting an American mental hospital. The facility is shutting down, but she has received a letter asking that Nancy retrieve Tessa, who has lived there for some time. Nancy has no intention of doing so, and she arranges with the management to leave alone after she has spoken with Tessa. When the two former friends meet, Nancy attempts to learn about Ollie and his life with Tessa. Tessa, however, cannot remember anything; electroshock therapy has ruined her memory. She claims that Ollie may have hanged himself, and that it wasn't his fault, but she recalls nothing else. Tessa then guesses that Nancy plans to abandon her at the facility. Feeling guilty, Nancy promises to write her after she leaves, although she never does.
The fourth part moves forward a few more years. Wilf has died from the complications of a stroke, and Nancy takes the opportunity to travel. She is in a large city when she randomly encounters Ollie. She and Ollie have a long discussion, in which he discusses his travels with Tessa in the United States. He says that funding for research disappeared after World War II, forcing he and Tessa to work on the vaudeville circuit. The strain of performing gave Tessa horrible headaches and gradually eroded her powers, but she and he developed an intricate system with which to deceive their audiences. Eventually, Ollie says, Tessa died. Nancy does not contradict him; she instead asks him to walk her to his hotel. (One of those things I have always had a difficult time understanding, as personally I always prefer the truth, no matter how painful; I am opposed to the "ignorance is bliss" theory.) Upon arriving, however, Ollie refuses to go up to her room. Nancy, shamed by his honesty, resolves to find Tessa again. She does not succeed.
The fifth part takes place decades later. Nancy has become a very old woman, whose children worry that she is living in the past.
Munro is considered a national treasure in Canada. She had received both the Man Booker International and Nobel Prize in literature in recent years, among other accolades. I can see why.
What makes her sorry stories stand out? One notable difference is that Munro's short stories are actually not that short. Strictly in words, many lean towards the lengthier "definition". (Short stories are not defined by length as much as structure. Although there's is no official demarcation for length, the range has been loosely defined at 1 to 20 thousand words, and that it can be read in an hour at the most; shorter than a novel [typically 80 to 100 thousand words]). Moreover, her readers will quickly realize that they are quite similar to novels in the feeling and immersing story they offer. Munro's stories have the scope of a novel, but without any obvious speeding up or trimming. How exactly she does this is arguable an art.
Two, I love that the same theme- sometimes obvious, other times more difficult to decipher- runs through the entire book, further creating the feeling for a cohesive novel rather than sorry stories. (For example, this collection. Each of the protagonists is running from something; hiding, escaping, trying to find themselves. Runaway emotions, running from the truth, literally running away from their residences. A feeling of loneliness in a room full of others, of needing to overcome much despite outward appearances of needing nothing. Multiple interpretations for the title word, from slang to straightforward, are used throughout.)
Thirdly, All the stories are from a female protagonist's point of view ("Powers" lends a portion to a male point of view). They all go through something significant during the narration; they all change, though not always in a positive way. For many, this change is a life-altering one.
Munro's collection of the same title, concerns two runaways: "Carla, whose abusive husband, Clark, inspires her to run away, and Sylvia, her neighbor who encourages Carla's runaway attempt. Sylvia's husband has passed away, and she comes to rely on Carla for help around her house and develops an obsessive concern for her abused friend. Sylvia's friends describe her affection for Carla as a crush. While Carla resents Clark's abuse, it seems apparent that without Sylvia's planning and urging she would not have taken a bus out of town, only to get off the bus and call Clark to come and get her. Significantly, Carla, who is wearing some of Sylvia's clothes, decides that the clothes do not “fit” her.
Sylvia, who later moves to an apartment in town, also may be considered a runaway. Besides the two women, there is another runaway: Flora, Carla's pet goat, who mysteriously vanishes and returns in supernatural fashion when Clark threatens Sylvia physically. The goat's sudden appearance saves Sylvia, and then Flora again vanishes. After Carla returns to Clark, she finds Flora's bones in the woods. She speculates about how Flora died and then absolves Clark of any guilt—something she has to do if she is to go on living with him. In effect, she runs away from the truth; Flora's fate could become hers."
There next three chapters are actually about the same characters, with tears in between. This circumvents the loose definitions for short stories actually, (perhaps purposely). "We meet Juliet first as a studious young teacher, then as a young mother visiting her elderly parents, and finally as a late middle-aged woman sundered from her own grown-up daughter. It turns out that the independence and rationalism we have admired in Juliet have alienated her child, who has left in search of the spiritual things she never had at home."
"In "Tricks", Robin, a young nurse who goes off by herself each year to see a Shakespeare play at Stratford, Ontario, is caught up in, and caught out by, a bit of plotting as artificial as a Shakespearean comedy. What if, Munro seems to say, the romantic susceptibilities of an inexperienced young woman were to be exposed to the comic doublings of a Twelfth Night or The Comedy of Errors. Another illustration of Munro's scope, this reminded me of O. Henry's " The Gift of the Magi", but covering an adult lifetime rather than one Christmas, the confusion of identity sorted out, not at the end of the evening, but a whole adult lifetime later. As exceedingly frustrating and small chances of actually happening, but certainly believable, it was actually my favorite.
"Trespasses" is similar, an examination of finding out unknown identities, a frustrating coincidence with a narrow possibility of occurring but definitely believable; a life-changing, both fortunate and unfortunate (depending in one's philosophy of "ignorance is bliss") happenstance for all the characters involved.
"Powers," the eighth and final story in the collection, is divided into five parts. (Interesting to consider it as an example of Freytag's pyramid theory). The first part comprises the diaries of Nancy, a self-centered young woman convinced that she is destined to have some great importance. She startles the town doctor, Wilf, on April Fool's Day by pretending to have a terminal illness; when she later tries to apologize to him, he unexpectedly proposes to her. Nancy, ashamed of her conduct, accepts his proposal although she feels little affection for him. She expresses surprise that her life has proved so mundane after all.
The second part shifts into third-person narration and takes place several months after the first part. Nancy and Wilf are engaged and preparing for their wedding. Wilf's cousin Ollie is in town to attend the ceremony, and Nancy becomes fascinated by his worldly affectations. In an attempt to impress him, she takes Ollie to visit Tessa, a friend of hers that lives on the outskirts of town. Tessa has psychic abilities that allow her to see through objects; she correctly identifies all of the items in Ollie's pockets. Ollie seemingly dismisses her, but Nancy fears that he is hiding a deeper interest. She writes Tessa, warning her to avoid Ollie. Tessa responds, revealing that she and Ollie have already eloped to the United States. They intend to get married and test her abilities scientifically.
Nancy is now an aging woman visiting an American mental hospital. The facility is shutting down, but she has received a letter asking that Nancy retrieve Tessa, who has lived there for some time. Nancy has no intention of doing so, and she arranges with the management to leave alone after she has spoken with Tessa. When the two former friends meet, Nancy attempts to learn about Ollie and his life with Tessa. Tessa, however, cannot remember anything; electroshock therapy has ruined her memory. She claims that Ollie may have hanged himself, and that it wasn't his fault, but she recalls nothing else. Tessa then guesses that Nancy plans to abandon her at the facility. Feeling guilty, Nancy promises to write her after she leaves, although she never does.
The fourth part moves forward a few more years. Wilf has died from the complications of a stroke, and Nancy takes the opportunity to travel. She is in a large city when she randomly encounters Ollie. She and Ollie have a long discussion, in which he discusses his travels with Tessa in the United States. He says that funding for research disappeared after World War II, forcing he and Tessa to work on the vaudeville circuit. The strain of performing gave Tessa horrible headaches and gradually eroded her powers, but she and he developed an intricate system with which to deceive their audiences. Eventually, Ollie says, Tessa died. Nancy does not contradict him; she instead asks him to walk her to his hotel. (One of those things I have always had a difficult time understanding, as personally I always prefer the truth, no matter how painful; I am opposed to the "ignorance is bliss" theory.) Upon arriving, however, Ollie refuses to go up to her room. Nancy, shamed by his honesty, resolves to find Tessa again. She does not succeed.
The fifth part takes place decades later. Nancy has become a very old woman, whose children worry that she is living in the past.
Munro is considered a national treasure in Canada. She had received both the Man Booker International and Nobel Prize in literature in recent years, among other accolades. I can see why.
June 11, 2018
Carla is a young woman who eloped with Clark, his former horse-riding teacher, to live her farm dream. As it usually happens in real life, the dream turns out to be a rather gloomy nightmare. Clark has fits of moodiness and treats her with despise and coldness.
Carla's neighbor Sylvie hires her to take care of the house while she tends to her moribund husband. A strong bond develops between the two women, and for a moment, the reader has high hopes for Carla: will she be resilient enough to escape the claws of a life lived in fear and misery?
The story has a mystifying ending that blends a bit of magic with the kind of horror that comes with the realization of the petrifying things we are capable of when trapped in a situation that subjugates us. Blood-chillingly good.
Carla's neighbor Sylvie hires her to take care of the house while she tends to her moribund husband. A strong bond develops between the two women, and for a moment, the reader has high hopes for Carla: will she be resilient enough to escape the claws of a life lived in fear and misery?
The story has a mystifying ending that blends a bit of magic with the kind of horror that comes with the realization of the petrifying things we are capable of when trapped in a situation that subjugates us. Blood-chillingly good.
July 30, 2019
Alice Munro'yu çok seviyorum. Bazı yerlerde hep Murakami ile karşılaştırıldığını görüyor Nobel'i Murakami'nin yerine Munro'nun almasının kimilerince 'haksızlık' olarak nitelendirildiğini görüyorum. Hiç Murakami okumadım; fakat Alice Munro'ya da haksızlık yapıldığını düşünüyorum. Munro'nun bana oldukça başka gelen bir havası var. Aslında çok 'değişik' insanları anlatmıyor; ancak o hep karşımıza çıkabilecek insanları öyle iyi bir şekilde anlatıyor ki kapılıp gidiyorsunuz. Sanırım bu sebeple "Kanada'nın Çehov'u" deniyor kendisine. Bilemiyorum, ben Alice Munro okumaktan gerçekten çok büyük keyif alıyorum.
Firar'a gelirsem... Aslında 'firar etmek isteyen, firar eden' kadınları anlatmış kitaptaki sekiz öyküde de. Bir yerlerden, bir şeylerden, birilerinden uzaklaşmak, kaçmak isteyen insanları okuyoruz. Bazı öyküler birbirleriyle bağlantılı; bu da bence okuyucuya ayrı bir keyif veriyor.
Yayımlanan diğer öykülerini de en kısa zamanda okuyabilmeyi diliyorum.
Firar'a gelirsem... Aslında 'firar etmek isteyen, firar eden' kadınları anlatmış kitaptaki sekiz öyküde de. Bir yerlerden, bir şeylerden, birilerinden uzaklaşmak, kaçmak isteyen insanları okuyoruz. Bazı öyküler birbirleriyle bağlantılı; bu da bence okuyucuya ayrı bir keyif veriyor.
Yayımlanan diğer öykülerini de en kısa zamanda okuyabilmeyi diliyorum.
December 8, 2020
Firar etmek isteyen, bir şeylerden kaçan kadınların öyküleri var bu kitapta.
Anlatım hiçbir şeyi dramatikleştirmeden olağan bir şekilde gidiyor hep, çok yalın süslemeye gerek duymamış. Kimse çok haklı ya da tam tersi değil.
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Anlatım hiçbir şeyi dramatikleştirmeden olağan bir şekilde gidiyor hep, çok yalın süslemeye gerek duymamış. Kimse çok haklı ya da tam tersi değil.
🌟
May 15, 2024
RIP Alice Munro.
One hell of a satisfying Alice Munro read.
The tales in this collection are twisty, shifting with humor and sorrow throughout its pages. I could not help but feel extremely emotional and attached to the characters with whom I've had the privilege of reading about.
All the stories in this particular collection are stellar, and they all carry a sense that death is always impending and near.
Three interlinking takes are about Juliet- first as a scholar of classics, and who falls for a fisherman named Eric, and their daughter Penelope. Juliet meets Eric after a suicide on a train in which she's riding causes an accident; and of Penelope's conception. Then afterwards, the second story is about Juliet's strained relations with her father and senile mother; and of her mother's attempt at being affectionate with her in which Juliet cruelly rebuffs.
The final story, appropriately called "Silence" now has Juliet worrying about the whereabouts of Penelope and if whether or not she has disappeared with a religious cult. And of whether or not she might see her daughter again?
"Tricks" and "Passion" are my favorites- and are haunting. Tricks is the story of a spinster nurse Robin who often once a year sneaks into town to watch Shakespeare productions, and on one fateful day after losing her pocketbook, befriends and passionately embraces a clockmaker who asks her to meet him the at the same time again, next year. But a cruel twist of mistaken identity forces these two apart in which ends in a finale that is comical, absurd, yet tragic.
“Passion", like "Tricks" is about how a moment of passion leads to tragedy as well. Grace falls for Neil, the brother of her fiancee Maury. Neil is intelligent, well-rounded and has helped Grace treat a swollen foot from the emergency room. Spending the night with him on the way back home in his car, they fall for one another Richard Linklater style: through conversations and personal connection.
Neil drops a soda in which spills onto Grace's hand, and he licks her hand, leading to feelings of sexual desire and frustration. However after this brief interlude, Neil commits suicide leaving a thousand dollars for Grace's perusal; and she ends up leaving Maury and into her future alone.
I could go on and on summarizing the tales from this masterful and enriching collection, but I could not help but feel an ethereal and bittersweetness like no other, in having read enough of her works. I began reading Alice Munro by her collection "The Love of a Good Woman", then "Open Secrets", "Too Much Happiness", "Hateship, Friendship", "Dear Life", "The View on Castle Rock" and now this.
All are masterpieces in their own right. She is a perfect storyteller and forces you to savor each word and each plot, freshly imagined and fleshed out. But this collection is where I found myself brimming with tears, because they reminded me so much of myself personally. It's not for the faint of heart, or those who are sentimental, that's for sure.
Like the film "Boyhood", this collection forced me to think of my own significance as a person, and as a teacher. And it is truly an astonishing work of art.
One hell of a satisfying Alice Munro read.
The tales in this collection are twisty, shifting with humor and sorrow throughout its pages. I could not help but feel extremely emotional and attached to the characters with whom I've had the privilege of reading about.
All the stories in this particular collection are stellar, and they all carry a sense that death is always impending and near.
Three interlinking takes are about Juliet- first as a scholar of classics, and who falls for a fisherman named Eric, and their daughter Penelope. Juliet meets Eric after a suicide on a train in which she's riding causes an accident; and of Penelope's conception. Then afterwards, the second story is about Juliet's strained relations with her father and senile mother; and of her mother's attempt at being affectionate with her in which Juliet cruelly rebuffs.
The final story, appropriately called "Silence" now has Juliet worrying about the whereabouts of Penelope and if whether or not she has disappeared with a religious cult. And of whether or not she might see her daughter again?
"Tricks" and "Passion" are my favorites- and are haunting. Tricks is the story of a spinster nurse Robin who often once a year sneaks into town to watch Shakespeare productions, and on one fateful day after losing her pocketbook, befriends and passionately embraces a clockmaker who asks her to meet him the at the same time again, next year. But a cruel twist of mistaken identity forces these two apart in which ends in a finale that is comical, absurd, yet tragic.
“Passion", like "Tricks" is about how a moment of passion leads to tragedy as well. Grace falls for Neil, the brother of her fiancee Maury. Neil is intelligent, well-rounded and has helped Grace treat a swollen foot from the emergency room. Spending the night with him on the way back home in his car, they fall for one another Richard Linklater style: through conversations and personal connection.
Neil drops a soda in which spills onto Grace's hand, and he licks her hand, leading to feelings of sexual desire and frustration. However after this brief interlude, Neil commits suicide leaving a thousand dollars for Grace's perusal; and she ends up leaving Maury and into her future alone.
I could go on and on summarizing the tales from this masterful and enriching collection, but I could not help but feel an ethereal and bittersweetness like no other, in having read enough of her works. I began reading Alice Munro by her collection "The Love of a Good Woman", then "Open Secrets", "Too Much Happiness", "Hateship, Friendship", "Dear Life", "The View on Castle Rock" and now this.
All are masterpieces in their own right. She is a perfect storyteller and forces you to savor each word and each plot, freshly imagined and fleshed out. But this collection is where I found myself brimming with tears, because they reminded me so much of myself personally. It's not for the faint of heart, or those who are sentimental, that's for sure.
Like the film "Boyhood", this collection forced me to think of my own significance as a person, and as a teacher. And it is truly an astonishing work of art.
June 5, 2014
If you need someone to sell you on short stories, go to Alice Munro. Her writing is straightforward and easy to grasp, yet it still conveys a wide range of striking and subtle emotions. In Runaway, most of the stories involve a middle-aged woman reflecting on her past and how an event has affected her life. The premise of each story appears simple - a woman has a passionate love affair with a married man, a daughter fails to comfort her mom - which allows Munro to weave in truths about human relationships through her plain prose. These short stories stick to the longer side, but Munro wields every word to make memorable moments and connections between and within her characters.
Recommended for those who want a solid collection of short stories about human relationships, as well as for those who desire some Canadian literature. I read a couple of stories from Runaway every week and discussed them with a friend, which let me savor Munro's prose and her penchant for subtlety that says a lot.
Recommended for those who want a solid collection of short stories about human relationships, as well as for those who desire some Canadian literature. I read a couple of stories from Runaway every week and discussed them with a friend, which let me savor Munro's prose and her penchant for subtlety that says a lot.
February 17, 2016
أليس الأمر مغريا بحق؟ أن تنزع عنك عِشرة إنسان أثقل عليك حياتك؟ أن تبدأ بداية ناصعة خالية من توابع الماضي وعثراته؟ أمر رائع، غير أن الأمور تستعصي على التبسيط، والعقبة الأولى هي النفس. سأكف عن الألغاز واتركك لتقرأ قصة (الهاربة) للنوبلية أليس مونرو.
لم تكتب مونرو ذلك النوع من الأدب الأنثوي الذي يستحضر الرجل فقط ليركل مؤخرته طوال النص، بل طرحت قضايا أسمى وأرقى. عن أنصاف النوايا كتبت، عن شبه الرغبة، عن بعض من التهور وبعض الندم. تحدثت عن الوحدة، عن الضعف الأنثوي العذب، عن قلة الحيلة والاستسلام لسيرورة الأيام.
إذا كنت من عشاق الأحداث المتسارعة والنهايات المدهشة والشخصيات البراقة فلن تروق لك هذه المجموعة القصصية. فالأحداث محضرة على نار هادئة، الشخصيات مفرطة في الواقعية والنهايات هي في الغالب مفتوحة. تتفاوت جودة القصص ودرجة امتاعها لكنني تلذذت كثيرا بقصص: (الهاربة) وهي عن زوجة تقرر الفرار من زوجها لتبدأ حياة جديدة; هي عمل ساحر ترك في النفس وميضا خافتا لا أعلم له سببا. أحببت قصة (صمت) التي تصور حيرة أم غادرتها ابنتها الشابة في رحلة تأمل وانقطعت أخبارها. ثم قصة (غرام) التي تحكي عن فتاة ترتبط بخطيب دون عاطفة جياشة.
مجموعة قصصية لأديبة كندية، بعذوبة أنثوية، ونكهة تشيكوفية تستحق القراءة دون شك.
لم تكتب مونرو ذلك النوع من الأدب الأنثوي الذي يستحضر الرجل فقط ليركل مؤخرته طوال النص، بل طرحت قضايا أسمى وأرقى. عن أنصاف النوايا كتبت، عن شبه الرغبة، عن بعض من التهور وبعض الندم. تحدثت عن الوحدة، عن الضعف الأنثوي العذب، عن قلة الحيلة والاستسلام لسيرورة الأيام.
إذا كنت من عشاق الأحداث المتسارعة والنهايات المدهشة والشخصيات البراقة فلن تروق لك هذه المجموعة القصصية. فالأحداث محضرة على نار هادئة، الشخصيات مفرطة في الواقعية والنهايات هي في الغالب مفتوحة. تتفاوت جودة القصص ودرجة امتاعها لكنني تلذذت كثيرا بقصص: (الهاربة) وهي عن زوجة تقرر الفرار من زوجها لتبدأ حياة جديدة; هي عمل ساحر ترك في النفس وميضا خافتا لا أعلم له سببا. أحببت قصة (صمت) التي تصور حيرة أم غادرتها ابنتها الشابة في رحلة تأمل وانقطعت أخبارها. ثم قصة (غرام) التي تحكي عن فتاة ترتبط بخطيب دون عاطفة جياشة.
مجموعة قصصية لأديبة كندية، بعذوبة أنثوية، ونكهة تشيكوفية تستحق القراءة دون شك.
January 9, 2026
This is the first Munro book of short stories I've read. I've been wanting to read her work because of her fame. Neither disappointed nor elated by reading her stories, I felt foreign.
I've been to Canada only a few times and I've known a few Canadians personally. I get the feeling that I would be very lonely if I lived among Munro's characters, especially the women, which in this book she focuses on. While much of Canada is beautiful, Munro's characters do not seem to notice. They are an inward set of people. Almost unfinished, incomplete.
She presents us with studies of people, whom we get to know rather well, then wish we hadn't. They are people in general that we might want to forget about, but not their story. That will stick subconsciously.
I want to read more Munro, but not right away. I read one review that compared her to Chekhov. That is how I tend to see her. After leaving a Chekhov story you recall it weeks, years later. I think Munro will have that effect on me.
I've been to Canada only a few times and I've known a few Canadians personally. I get the feeling that I would be very lonely if I lived among Munro's characters, especially the women, which in this book she focuses on. While much of Canada is beautiful, Munro's characters do not seem to notice. They are an inward set of people. Almost unfinished, incomplete.
She presents us with studies of people, whom we get to know rather well, then wish we hadn't. They are people in general that we might want to forget about, but not their story. That will stick subconsciously.
I want to read more Munro, but not right away. I read one review that compared her to Chekhov. That is how I tend to see her. After leaving a Chekhov story you recall it weeks, years later. I think Munro will have that effect on me.
February 13, 2022
There are some very powerful short stories in this book, some gorgeous writing and sadness too. One of my Goodreads friends said in his review that one of these stories will leave you with a hole in your heart. I felt that way about 2 of them. I won't forget this book anytime soon.
"The trees of the hardwood forest laced their branches overhead. The leaves were late to turn this year because of the strangely warm weather, so these branches were still green, except for the odd one here and there that flashed out like a banner."
"The trees of the hardwood forest laced their branches overhead. The leaves were late to turn this year because of the strangely warm weather, so these branches were still green, except for the odd one here and there that flashed out like a banner."
July 24, 2015
به آلیس مونرو اعتماد دارم. به نثرش، روایتش، خط داستانش، به شخصیتهاش که نه خیلی خاصن نه خیلی دورنگرا، نه عجیب و غریب. معمولی و عادین. بهش اعتماد دارم چون میدونم بلده. همه چیز رو میدونه. با ظرافت یه بانوی کانادایی میدونه کجا چیکار کنه. مثل وقتی که خط داستان مث یه نمودار سینوسی شیبش عوض میشه و خواننده با یه کشف و شهود به لذت دوچندان میرسه.
September 2, 2020
فرار مجموعهی هشت داستان کوتاه از آلیس مونرو نویسندهی در قید حیات کاناداییه. چیزی که برام خیلی جالب بود این در چهارچوب داستان کوتاه نبودن مونرو بود، تعدد شخصیتها، تعدد مکان ها و تایم لاین زمانی قصه ها بیشتر از داستان کوتاه به رمان شباهت داره.
توی کتاب سه تا داستان هست که شخصیتها یکی هستند : اتفاق/به زودی/ سکوت.
و من خیلی دوسشون داشتم.
توی کتاب سه تا داستان هست که شخصیتها یکی هستند : اتفاق/به زودی/ سکوت.
و من خیلی دوسشون داشتم.
December 11, 2020
اولین کتابی که از مونرو خوندم وبسیار راضیم بیشتر از همه داستان فریب ها رو دوست داشتم 💛
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