it's my first time in reading one collection of Alice Munro's short stories. .I do love the stories . There is something so real in each one ... the life in its different situations something undeniable. .I think Alice is so loyal to Canada because all her stories took place in Canadian cities an...
Or maybe a kind of 5. I admire her all over the place for her skill and control as a writer, but I find her hard to like. Too bleak, often. Her stance that "stuff happens" feels cold, distanced, analytical. I want to say: where's the heart? where's the catharsis? as if she should be writin...
Anche questa volta Alice Munro non mi ha deluso : con la sua scrittura limpida e immediata porta il lettore dentro le sue storie e ogni racconto possiede la compiutezza di un libro.Protagoniste dei vari racconti sono le donne, come sempre, con le loro illusioni, aspettative, i dubbi e le certezze...
Carried Away is a dazzling selection of stories–seventeen favorites chosen by the author from across her distinguished career.Alice Munro has been repeatedly hailed as one of our greatest living writers, a reputation that has been growing for years. The stories brought together here span a quarte...
I've never been a fan of short stories. And until recently I wasn't aware that I share this dislike with a pretty significant amount of people…I've been seeing around Goodreads how common it is for people who read novels not to like short stories. It would be interesting to know if the reasons fo...
My first attraction to read Alice Munro was the Nobel Prize conferred on her last year. She is not so well known in India and her books were not easy to get or so very expensive. However, the award did the trick and I was able to grab this collection of short stories at a discount from the India ...
Don't tell anyone, but I've never read any Alice Munro. I know, I know. All of my bookish friends love her -- even the ones who generally avoid anything written by women -- so this isn't a confession made lightly. I've meant to find something of hers for a while now, but it just never happened. T...
Escribir relatos no es fácil. En pocas páginas han de caber el planteamiento, el nudo y el desenlace (aunque esta norma no se aplica necesariamente a según qué cuentos y qué escritores). El germen de una historia ha de estar presente. Ésto es algo, quizás al no ser escritor, que me resulta difíci...
I sometimes get into conversations with people who have a hard time connecting with the short-story format; they say that they hardly have time to muster an emotional involvement in the characters and events, before the story is over. To those readers I might recommend Alice Munro. True, I hav...
I don’t know where to start with this book so I'm just going to dive in. Alice Munro is a very very good writer, the sort of talent who makes me think of Anne Rice's quip that Renoir sold his soul: it doesn't figure that a person can craft such luminously wonderful art without divine or diabolica...
The experiences of Munro's characters in this collection are pretty well removed from my own. Most are women in their 50s or so, looking back on young marriages in the 50s, affairs and divorces in the 60s or 70s, visiting old friends or acquaintances after or during deaths of parents. That said, ...
Alice Munro is such an artist. I simply loved Too Much Happiness and definitely wanted to read more of her work. This is one of her earlier collections published in 1982 and though I didn’t find it as good, there are still plenty of little jewels I thoroughly enjoyed.What Munro does so well is ev...
WINNER OF THE NOBEL PRIZE® IN LITERATURE 2013 Alice Munro has long been heralded for her penetrating, lyrical prose, and in “The Bear Came Over the Mountain” – the basis for Sarah Polley’s film Away From Her — her prodigious talents are once again on display. As she follows Grant, a retired prof...
The author reads the short story Progress of love from her collection of the same title. In this story the narrator remembers her mother and childhood on a Canadian farm.
In the two novellas that make up The Equations of Love, Ethel Wilson describes ordinary people in perilous circumstances with extraordinary insight and compassion. “Tuesday and Wednesday” reconstructs the events of two days in the life of Mort and Myrtle Johnson, whose uninspired marriage is stra...
Actually, however, this science requires great fantasy.—Sophia KovalevskyIOn the first day of January, in the year 1891, a small woman and a large man are walking in the Old Cemetery, in Genoa. Both of them are around forty years old. The woman has a childishly large head, with a thicket of dark ...
This had become a fixed, even furious, idea with him. For her, a continual surprise. He wanted to marry her. He waited for her after classes, moved in and walked beside her, so that anybody she was talking to would have to reckon with his presence. He would not talk, when these friends or classma...
It looked like a recruiting station or like a crossing point on the border. It had once been a Post Office, and still seemed an official, semi-public sort of place, because Uncle Craig was the clerk of Fairmile Township, and people came to him to get marriage licences and other kinds of permits; ...
Montjoy was showing me how to put the pots and pans away. I had put some of them in the wrong places. Above all things, she said, she hated a higgledy-piggledy cupboard. “You waste more time,” she said. “You waste more time looking for something because it wasn’t where it was last time.” “That’s ...
It was Wednesday afternoon, my half-day. I work in King’s Department Store, which is nothing but a ready-to-wear and dry goods, in spite of the name. They used to have groceries, but I can just barely recall that. Momma used to take me in and set me on the high stool and old Mr. King would give m...
He was in a semi-private room. The other bed was empty. He said that his hospital insurance covered only a bed in the ward, and he was worried that he might be charged extra. “I never asked for a semi-private,” he said. I said the wards were probably full. “No. I saw some empty beds when they wer...
I USED TO DREAM about my mother, and though the details in the dream varied, the surprise in it was always the same. The dream stopped, I suppose, because it was too transparent in its hopefulness, too easy in its forgiveness. In the dream I would be the age I really was, living the life I was re...
It was the Wawanash River, which every spring overflowed its banks. Some springs, say one in every five, it covered the roads on that side of town and washed over the fields, creating a shallow choppy lake. Light reflected off the water made everything bright and cold, as it is in a lakeside town...
I don’t know why, I was never in one with her; their plenitude, their sober bustle, it seems to me, would have satisfied her. I think of her of course when I see somebody on the street who has Parkinson’s disease, and more and more often lately when I look in the mirror. Also in Union Station, To...
Streeter would have to say. “Regular little United Nations back here.” Mary Jo, knowing how to handle him, would remark that there was always first class. He would say that he didn’t propose paying an arm and a leg for the privilege of swilling free champagne. “Anyway, you know what’s up in first...
Mr. Carlton said. “I mean, for a girl like my daughter Corrie here. For example, I mean, like her. It isn’t good. Nobody on the same level.” Corrie was right across the table, looking their guest in the eye. She seemed to think this was funny. “Who’s she going to marry?” her father continued. “Sh...
It is 1943. Frances’ outfit is fashionable for that year: a dark plaid skirt and fringed, triangular shawl of the same material, worn over the shoulders with the ends tucked in at the waist; a creamy satin blouse—real satin, a material soon to disappear—with many little pearl buttons down the fro...
Thank your husband too, for taking you there on his snowmobile, also if as I suspect he was the one to board up the broken window to keep out the savage beasts, etc. Lay not up treasure on earth where moth and dust not to mention teenagers doth corrupt. I hear you are a Christian now, Liza, what ...
Juliet has not been offered a permanent job—the teacher she replaced has recovered—and she could now be on her way home. But she is taking what she has described as a little detour. A little detour to see a friend who lives up the coast. About a month ago, she went with another teacher—Juanita, w...