I found the woman on the cover of the Modern Classics edition of her Who Do You Think You Are? to be quite striking. I fought the urge to read the book based only on that.
I am sometimes wary of popular Canadian female authors. There's the stereotype of the gritty, backwater tale involving rape and incest and without a decent male character to be found. This seems to ring true at times, though, being a fan a few Canadian female authors, I know is not always the case.
And there's the hype factor. Munro has written many, many short stories, and there is a lot of praise heaped onto each collection. Sometimes I wonder if I'm geared away from such praise because if there are so many people who like her, does it really matter if I join the throng? Shouldn't I, someone who's "in the know," apply my energies elsewhere? To someone who's a little less known? Who could use the support? Who's, okay, fine, cooler?
Of course, there's often a reason for hype.
I saw "Away From Her" a few weeks ago. I had wanted to since flying back from a trip to Newfoundland. I had a choice between that and "X2 - X-Men United." I chose the latter. To be fair, part of my reasoning was that my wife had seen that one already and I hadn't, and I figured "Away From Her" might be a good couple's movie.
I found "Away From Her" to be beautiful and in the end, avoiding overwrought melodrama about a subject that could so easily slip into overwrought melodrama. It was smart and tender, and felt very real. I didn't realize until watching the film that it was based on one of Munro's stories, "The Bear Came Over the Mountain." That persuaded me to give her a try.
So, yes, I started with the book with the striking woman on the cover.
In one of my philosophy courses years ago, we discussed whether or not fiction can "teach" us how to be. There was a lot of scepticism. Fiction is, after all, not real. Even non-fictional accounts of events are not necessarily how the events occurred. While most students in the class agreed that reading fiction is beneficial in many ways - it increases language and comprehension skills, stretches attention spans, ignites imaginations - it was hard for many to believe that we actually learned much about the "real" world in a way that dictated how we ourselves do, or should, live.
I felt that the possibility was there, and Munro's work reminds me that I do believe we can become more adept at living from reading fiction, albeit not in the direct way some might think. I think in order for this to happen, there needs to me almost as much work from the reader than from the author.
The more I read, the more I look for myself in the characters. In the past, I tended to only try to relate to their good points. However, as time goes on, I also try to recognize characteristics in myself that are less than appealing.
Who Do You Think You Are? is a collection of short stories following the life of Rose, a resourceful woman who becomes quickly and temporarily sucked into passionate relationships with men based mostly on the attention they give her more than the qualities of the men themselves. There is worry that perhaps the sort of love that comes "totally and helplessly" from another, that her desire "for worship... though she had never asked for it," would never come her way again. So, each time it happens, she holds on for dear life.
The first of these men is Patrick. When they meet, he is an artsy, serious type with the odd romantic streak; who will chance being so honest at times as to leave himself "exposed" and completely defenceless. Then, after years of marriage, Rose describes him as the following:
... he had a habit of delivering reproving lectures, in response to a simple question or observation. Sometimes... she would ask him a question in the hope that he would show off some superior knowledge that she could admire him for, but she was usually sorry she had asked, the answer was so long and had such a scolding tone...That's me! Sometimes. Ask my wife. So I recognize the latter point and hope to not be like that so much in the future.
Part of recognizing oneself is also, having related to particular characters, seeing where they end up in the future. Patrick, upon asking Rose to marry him and facing the impending responsibility of providing for his family, ends up losing his idealism and takes a ho-hum job through his father's business. He becomes unhappy and bitter as the years go by, trying to retain bits of glory through ill-advised, abrasive rants at parties.
I worry, too, about succumbing to the pressures of familial responsibilities. I have them, of course, and want to "provide," but I don't want to give up on my dreams in the process. It's a hard balance to find.
Patrick also has many characteristics that hopefully I lack. But the point is not to seek that one character who is exactly like you, but to be able to find yourself in perhaps all of them. Surely, that's one mark of a great writer. I think this is one way that reading can help open us up and be accepting of others. Instead of always looking for what sets us apart, it becomes easier to focus on how we can be like alike.
And fiction also allows us to deal with our insecurities and shortcomings in a "safe" environment. It can be hard enough to admit our flaws to ourselves let alone to others. We might worry about the response we'll receive; the possible admonishment, the judgments, or even the gloating of "told you so." If we can think about ourselves in a way that is uncluttered by others' perceptions, then we can make an effort to change and move on without making a big production about it.
Maybe this is asking a lot. By no means does reading fiction have to be such an "active" commitment. Many of us read as a form of escapism. But I think reading is different from TV and movies in this way, as there are more chances to stop and be contemplative - to tweak little bits of ourselves - before moving on and getting lost in the story again. So we get the best of both the thoughtful and entertaining worlds. There is real opportunity for change.
And by the way, the stories were indeed filled with backwater towns, and there was a reference to possible incest. But hey, that's life, too.
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