Thank you for linking to the New Yorker's story on Alice Munro. I don't know what shocked me more - the fact that she ignored her daughter's reports of abuse by Munro's partner, or that she returned to living with said abusive partner even after she knew what he had done (and suspected worse), or that *Munro literally wove the abuse into her much-acclaimed fiction*, using the abuse as material for her stories.
I left my one collection of Munro stories on a giveaway shelf (I cannot throw books into the recycling bin, unless they're ancient phone-books.)
It’s such an awful story, from all the angles, though the constant retelling of it, when Munro was so unable (seemingly) to protect or care for her daughter in the aftermath of the abuse seems so utterly selfish, detached, cold. I’m not sure what exactly, but it makes the matter particularly cruel
This was an especially powerful collection. Thank you for continuing the work.
Thank you, and thank you so much for reading
Thank you for linking to the New Yorker's story on Alice Munro. I don't know what shocked me more - the fact that she ignored her daughter's reports of abuse by Munro's partner, or that she returned to living with said abusive partner even after she knew what he had done (and suspected worse), or that *Munro literally wove the abuse into her much-acclaimed fiction*, using the abuse as material for her stories.
I left my one collection of Munro stories on a giveaway shelf (I cannot throw books into the recycling bin, unless they're ancient phone-books.)
It’s such an awful story, from all the angles, though the constant retelling of it, when Munro was so unable (seemingly) to protect or care for her daughter in the aftermath of the abuse seems so utterly selfish, detached, cold. I’m not sure what exactly, but it makes the matter particularly cruel