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The Progress of Love
Alice Munro, who received the National Book Critics Circle Award for her latest collection of stories, The Love of a Good Woman , is widely acknowledged as a modern master of the short story. In this earlier collection, she demonstrates all of those strengths that have won her so many literary accolades.
A divorced woman returns to her childhood home where she confronts the memory of her parents' confounding yet deep bond. The accidental near-drowning of a child exposes the fragility of the trust between children and parents. A young man, remembering a terrifying childhood incident, wrestles with the responsibility he has always felt for his younger brother. In these and other stories Alice Munro proves once again a sensitive and compassionate chronicler of our times. Drawing us into the most intimate corners of ordinary lives, she reveals much about ourselves, our choices, and our experiences of love.
From the Trade Paperback edition.
A divorced woman returns to her childhood home where she confronts the memory of her parents' confounding yet deep bond. The accidental near-drowning of a child exposes the fragility of the trust between children and parents. A young man, remembering a terrifying childhood incident, wrestles with the responsibility he has always felt for his younger brother. In these and other stories Alice Munro proves once again a sensitive and compassionate chronicler of our times. Drawing us into the most intimate corners of ordinary lives, she reveals much about ourselves, our choices, and our experiences of love.
From the Trade Paperback edition.
309 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1986
About the author
Alice Munro
206 books6,402 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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September 16, 2020
I CONIUGI ARNOLFINI
In questa foto è possibile vedere un bel campo di papaveri oppure, a scelta, un buon raccolto di eroina.
Preso per mano e portato in mezzo a vite ordinarie di gente qualsiasi, ma scoprendo angoli nascosti e intimi, e così illuminando molto di me, delle mie scelte e esperienze di vita, d'amore.
Rapito dall’eleganza e dall’attenzione che Munro sparge.
Si tratta di racconti, e io e i racconti andiamo molto d’accordo: con questi della Munro, la prossimità diventa addirittura saldatura.
Non racconta gente speciale Alice Munro, non mette al centro delle sue narrazioni personaggi con sensibilità straordinarie: ma la mano di Munro prende i suoi attori e li porta a tale profondità interiore, da trovare quasi più sentimenti di quanti ne possano contenere ed esprimere, se non ci fosse proprio lei, la scrittrice, la grande Alice Munro.
”Julieta” di Pedro Almodovar, 2016. Il film è tratto mescolando tre racconti di Alice Munro.
Le pause di riflessione non sopraggiungono certo per opacità di scrittura, ma perché la trama del racconto è potente, intricata, intrecciata finemente, richiede la nostra completa attenzione.
Si esce da queste pagine migliori di come si è entrati. Il percorso dell’amore è probabilmente il più difficile: ma non esiste una sola verità, e, l’amore è una parola che racchiude tutto.
Il ritratto dei coniugi Arnolfini di Van Eyck.
È una scena all’apparenza semplice, un uomo e una donna che si tengono per mano al centro di una stanza da letto di un ricco appartamento borghese. Eppure è una delle opere più enigmatiche della storia dell’arte.
La normalità è piena di mistero.
Lo dice Polanski. E Roman di mistero è supremo esperto.
”Canaan” il film dell’attore e regista iraniano Mani Haghighi, 2008, tratto da un racconto di Alice Munro.
Alice Munro è uno dei pochi scrittori a cui penso quando dico che la letteratura è la mia religione, dice Jonathan Franzen.
Chissà se quei momenti significano davvero, come sembra, che avremmo a disposizione una vita felice nella quale ci imbattiamo, consapevolmente, solo qualche rara volta? Chissà se gettano su quel che precede e quel che segue, tutto ciò che è accaduto nella nostra vita, o che noi abbiamo fatto accadere, una luce tale da rendere ogni cosa trascurabile?
Jan Van Eyck: Ritratto dei coniugi Arnolfini, 1434. National Gallery, Londra.
In questa foto è possibile vedere un bel campo di papaveri oppure, a scelta, un buon raccolto di eroina.
Preso per mano e portato in mezzo a vite ordinarie di gente qualsiasi, ma scoprendo angoli nascosti e intimi, e così illuminando molto di me, delle mie scelte e esperienze di vita, d'amore.
Rapito dall’eleganza e dall’attenzione che Munro sparge.
Si tratta di racconti, e io e i racconti andiamo molto d’accordo: con questi della Munro, la prossimità diventa addirittura saldatura.
Non racconta gente speciale Alice Munro, non mette al centro delle sue narrazioni personaggi con sensibilità straordinarie: ma la mano di Munro prende i suoi attori e li porta a tale profondità interiore, da trovare quasi più sentimenti di quanti ne possano contenere ed esprimere, se non ci fosse proprio lei, la scrittrice, la grande Alice Munro.
”Julieta” di Pedro Almodovar, 2016. Il film è tratto mescolando tre racconti di Alice Munro.
Le pause di riflessione non sopraggiungono certo per opacità di scrittura, ma perché la trama del racconto è potente, intricata, intrecciata finemente, richiede la nostra completa attenzione.
Si esce da queste pagine migliori di come si è entrati. Il percorso dell’amore è probabilmente il più difficile: ma non esiste una sola verità, e, l’amore è una parola che racchiude tutto.
Il ritratto dei coniugi Arnolfini di Van Eyck.
È una scena all’apparenza semplice, un uomo e una donna che si tengono per mano al centro di una stanza da letto di un ricco appartamento borghese. Eppure è una delle opere più enigmatiche della storia dell’arte.
La normalità è piena di mistero.
Lo dice Polanski. E Roman di mistero è supremo esperto.
”Canaan” il film dell’attore e regista iraniano Mani Haghighi, 2008, tratto da un racconto di Alice Munro.
Alice Munro è uno dei pochi scrittori a cui penso quando dico che la letteratura è la mia religione, dice Jonathan Franzen.
Chissà se quei momenti significano davvero, come sembra, che avremmo a disposizione una vita felice nella quale ci imbattiamo, consapevolmente, solo qualche rara volta? Chissà se gettano su quel che precede e quel che segue, tutto ciò che è accaduto nella nostra vita, o che noi abbiamo fatto accadere, una luce tale da rendere ogni cosa trascurabile?
Jan Van Eyck: Ritratto dei coniugi Arnolfini, 1434. National Gallery, Londra.
September 5, 2017
Munro portrays how marital and filial love evolves through generations as the role of men and women shifts following the waves of emancipation and economic independence.
A divorced woman returns to her childhood home and fragmented memories of the tense relationship between her mother and her grandparents frame the setting for her mother's predisposition to love the man she married forever. But at what cost? Faith seems to work when doubts arise for past generations, but it proves to be useless in the claws of modernity.
The dilemma of committing to another and stick to that person through thick and thin, or to remain independent and build one's life according to changing circumstances?
Munro doesn't question, she doesn't moralize, she merely presents, but the reader can't stop from answering to the silent conflicts that are brought up to the surface through Munro's clear-cut prose.
May you find the answer you need.
A divorced woman returns to her childhood home and fragmented memories of the tense relationship between her mother and her grandparents frame the setting for her mother's predisposition to love the man she married forever. But at what cost? Faith seems to work when doubts arise for past generations, but it proves to be useless in the claws of modernity.
The dilemma of committing to another and stick to that person through thick and thin, or to remain independent and build one's life according to changing circumstances?
Munro doesn't question, she doesn't moralize, she merely presents, but the reader can't stop from answering to the silent conflicts that are brought up to the surface through Munro's clear-cut prose.
May you find the answer you need.
February 26, 2020
El progreso del amor que siento por esta mujer avanza mucho más que adecuadamente. No voy a repetirme aquí: todo lo dicho en mis anteriores comentarios a esta gran señora de la literatura sigue siendo pertinente para este nuevo puñado de cuentos y, sin embargo, nunca se tiene la sensación de estar leyendo más de lo mismo.
Por señalar algún punto, quizás en estos relatos Munro da un mayor protagonismo a los hombres en la vida de las mujeres, en su presente y en ese pasado que vuelve, que realmente nunca se ha ido o que realmente nunca existió, si bien es el pasado que realmente importa, como en el cuento que da título al libro, que junto a “Miles city, Montana”, es de lo mejor del libro.
December 10, 2019
Alice Munro has been my favourite literary discovery of the year. This was my third book of hers. Another collection of short stories ( she's only written one novel). While I'd unreservedly recommend either of the other books I felt more lukewarm about this one. I felt she was a little short of inspiration for the most part and though every story is well written and has some points of interest none had the wow factor her other books had. It's not impossible my diminished enthusiasm is down to my having reached some kind of saturation point having read three of her books in a row but if you've never read her ( and you should!) this isn't the one I'd recommend.
July 6, 2013
Come with me, my love... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CbMeAO...
I’m an observer by nature. I guess you can say I like to watch. Birds. Bugs. Animals. Humans. The weather. I can sit in front of my bay window for hours watching a spider spin a web, a thunderstorm rolling in, a swarm of bees sipping nectar from my rhododendrons…
Alice Munro must be an observer by nature too, because her stories reveal her fascination with everyday life and everyday people. This particular collection focuses on relationships: between couples, siblings, parents and children -- always in someway or other following the progress of love.
In my opinion, Alice Munro is the queen of short story writers. I think this can be attributed to her economy of language. Whereas many novelists need to use an excessive amount of words to get their point across, Munro can tell a compelling and engaging tale with concision.
My hat is off to the master for delivering another phenomenal collection of stories.
4.75/5
September 29, 2023
When I was twenty-two and reading Alice Munro, I wanted the stories to have a twist, a purpose, a meaning, a point. The conclusion had to be illuminating, and leave me feeling satisfied. But this—with exceptions such as “How I Met My Husband” (not in the collection)—just isn’t Alice Munro. And I’ve finally reached the point where I’m okay with that—to Alice’s great relief I’m sure. As I reread some of the stories I was indifferent to a few years ago—the inner worlds of these characters are so lush that none of the stories can be said to be about this or that—I find myself drawn to them more so than to the ‘simpler’ stories because they allow for a thousand different instances of rereading and reinterpretation. There remain one or two stories in this collection, however—“Eskimo”—that I didn’t like the first time and that I do not like now, and do not foresee myself liking in the future. But given the excellence of the others, I can live with that.
The Progress of Love - 5
Lichen - 5
Monsieur Les Deux Chapeaux - 3
Miles City, Montana - 4
Fits - 5
The Moon in the Orange Street Skating Rink - 5
Jesse and Meribeth - 4
Eskimo - 3
A Queer Streak - 5
Circle of Prayer - 3
White Dump - 5
The Progress of Love - 5
Lichen - 5
Monsieur Les Deux Chapeaux - 3
Miles City, Montana - 4
Fits - 5
The Moon in the Orange Street Skating Rink - 5
Jesse and Meribeth - 4
Eskimo - 3
A Queer Streak - 5
Circle of Prayer - 3
White Dump - 5
February 13, 2011
My first book by Alice Munro (born 1931) and oh my, she kicks ass!
What is it with female Canadian writers? I normally think twice before picking up any book by a female writer. This is not a sexist remark but most of them I tried hard to like them but they fell short of my expectations. Virginia Woolf will always be my favorite along with Dame Iris Murdoch. Then, I also enjoyed Surfacing by Margaret Atwood and Unless by Carol Shields. They are the first two female Canadian writers who both joined my list of favorite female authors alongside Woolf and Murdoch. Now it is 3 vs 2 in favor of the Canadians.
I also remember that I have not read any book by a Canadian male writers. Do female writers, unlike in all parts of the world, dominate in the literary scene there? Now I remember a friend recommending Timothy Findley's works. Maybe soon.
I checked Wiki and it says this for Munro: is a Canadian short-story writer, winner of the 2009 Man Booker International Prize for her lifetime body of work, three-time winner of Canada's Governor General's Award for fiction, and a perennial contender for the Nobel Prize. So, Munro is really a serious writer and I used to ignore her works in our bookstores here in the Manila.
So far, I've read 3 short-stories collections: Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman by Haruki Murakami; Nocturnes by Kazuo Ishiguro and What We Talk About, When We Talk About Love by Raymond Chandler. This book The Progress of Love by Alice Munro is on its own league.
It is definitely not stories as "slices" of one's life. Most of her stories have plots that can stand as separate full-length interesting novels. They are not rushed up because Munro delicately takes time to tell her stories using her words carefully and sensitively. Her stories are like well-captured photographs in an art studio. Sharp pixels. Suited lighting as the artist took them at exact time of the day. I am not talking about mountains, sunset and bay. Munro's stories are about human beings: their relationships, dreams, fears and questions. The stories in this book, The Progress of Love deal with common and uncommon people dealing issues in their present lives by looking back to their past. I think that this explains why progress is in the title. Although I am giving this a star less from amazing because out of the 11 stories only one mentioned the word love. I am not sure if this was intentional of Munro. I thought that this book can be a good pre-Valentine read *chuckle*. To compare, what I know of Murakami is that he writes and writes short stories and lump them into a book without any thought on the title of the collection and select one of the titles to also be the title of the whole collection. The first story of this book has that title but it is far from my favorite which is the one towards the end, A Queer Streak. Also, reading Munro is not as easy as the works of the other 3 gentlemen. Because each of the 11 short stories are very interesting, I slowed down and took time 11 times to adjust to the story, i.e., know the characters and setting as they are introduced at the start. I mean, when I finally closed the book, I thought I spent almost the same time I would have spent reading 5 or so short novels.
But it was worth my time really. They are not about those Murakami dream sequences that can just be meaningless (if you really think about most of them). Munro's stories are more of our lives being put on the operating table: dissected, examined and evaluated. Munro does not provide the answers but she does ask the right questions for us to re-evaluate our lives, where we are heading to.
What is it with female Canadian writers? I normally think twice before picking up any book by a female writer. This is not a sexist remark but most of them I tried hard to like them but they fell short of my expectations. Virginia Woolf will always be my favorite along with Dame Iris Murdoch. Then, I also enjoyed Surfacing by Margaret Atwood and Unless by Carol Shields. They are the first two female Canadian writers who both joined my list of favorite female authors alongside Woolf and Murdoch. Now it is 3 vs 2 in favor of the Canadians.
I also remember that I have not read any book by a Canadian male writers. Do female writers, unlike in all parts of the world, dominate in the literary scene there? Now I remember a friend recommending Timothy Findley's works. Maybe soon.
I checked Wiki and it says this for Munro: is a Canadian short-story writer, winner of the 2009 Man Booker International Prize for her lifetime body of work, three-time winner of Canada's Governor General's Award for fiction, and a perennial contender for the Nobel Prize. So, Munro is really a serious writer and I used to ignore her works in our bookstores here in the Manila.
So far, I've read 3 short-stories collections: Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman by Haruki Murakami; Nocturnes by Kazuo Ishiguro and What We Talk About, When We Talk About Love by Raymond Chandler. This book The Progress of Love by Alice Munro is on its own league.
It is definitely not stories as "slices" of one's life. Most of her stories have plots that can stand as separate full-length interesting novels. They are not rushed up because Munro delicately takes time to tell her stories using her words carefully and sensitively. Her stories are like well-captured photographs in an art studio. Sharp pixels. Suited lighting as the artist took them at exact time of the day. I am not talking about mountains, sunset and bay. Munro's stories are about human beings: their relationships, dreams, fears and questions. The stories in this book, The Progress of Love deal with common and uncommon people dealing issues in their present lives by looking back to their past. I think that this explains why progress is in the title. Although I am giving this a star less from amazing because out of the 11 stories only one mentioned the word love. I am not sure if this was intentional of Munro. I thought that this book can be a good pre-Valentine read *chuckle*. To compare, what I know of Murakami is that he writes and writes short stories and lump them into a book without any thought on the title of the collection and select one of the titles to also be the title of the whole collection. The first story of this book has that title but it is far from my favorite which is the one towards the end, A Queer Streak. Also, reading Munro is not as easy as the works of the other 3 gentlemen. Because each of the 11 short stories are very interesting, I slowed down and took time 11 times to adjust to the story, i.e., know the characters and setting as they are introduced at the start. I mean, when I finally closed the book, I thought I spent almost the same time I would have spent reading 5 or so short novels.
But it was worth my time really. They are not about those Murakami dream sequences that can just be meaningless (if you really think about most of them). Munro's stories are more of our lives being put on the operating table: dissected, examined and evaluated. Munro does not provide the answers but she does ask the right questions for us to re-evaluate our lives, where we are heading to.
November 12, 2016
Alice Munro (n. 1931) no Lago Huron, Ontário, Canadá - Fotografia George Waldman
A escritora canadiana Alice Munro (n. 1931) foi galardoada com o Prémio Nobel da Literatura em 2013 que reconheceu nela um ”mestre do conto contemporâneo”, com apenas um único romance publicado em 1971 ”Vidas de Raparigas e Mulheres”.
Anteriormente, li duas das suas colectâneas de contos ”Falsos Segredos” (1994) - 5* e ”Ódio, Amizade, Namoro, Amor, Casamento” (2001) - 4*.
”O Progresso do Amor” é um colectânea que reúne onze contos, originariamente publicada em 1985 – 1986, com destaque para: ”O Progresso do Amor”, ”A Lua na Pista de Gelo de Orange Street, Jesse e Meribeth, ”Um Veio de Loucura” e ”Refugo Branco” todos 5*.
Englobo ”A Lua na Pista de Gelo de Orange Street e ”Refugo Branco” na lista dos melhores contos de Alice Munro.
O tema abrangente a esta colectânea de contos é o AMOR. Quase todas as personagens procuram esse “amor”, nem sempre o encontram, muitas vezes acabam por voltar a perdê-lo; o amor faz parte da vida, da vida comum, do dia-a-dia, o amor como uma “coisa” misteriosa, que exige sacrifício e persistência; das relações humanas que se estabelecem entre marido e mulher, entre pais e filhos, entre amantes, entre casais divorciados, entre irmãos; mas, igualmente, entre o passado e o presente, entre diferentes narradores e diferentes perspectivas da vida, o que está implícito em inúmeras recordações, que acabam por acentuar a complexidade dos relacionamentos familiares, a precariedade da relação, a confiança ou a desconfiança que se estabelece, ou a felicidade ou infelicidade que se revela inesperadamente. Um dos factores determinantes em vários contos é a memória, a forma como se reconstrói eventos passados e compartilhados, com inúmeras variáveis, que mudarão o sentido da vida das personagens.
”O Progresso do Amor” é uma excelente colectânea de contos, delimitada pela brevidade da narrativa mas ampliada pela excepcional qualidade da escrita ficcionada de Alice Munro.
January 30, 2013
I sometimes like to think of Alice Munro as a painter. In drawing her just so, I can consider that she must furnish the place she has made for her daily hours of work with these finely delineated and peculiarly detailed portraits of people who have never existed whole, but whom we have all met in part: people whose clothes and expressions we have worn, whose lives we have lived in, and into whose poses our own movement pours content.
Still, portraits are not her characteristic medium. Other than these, and in this proceeding form her sense is particularly keen, she represents scenes of place and person blended in life's activity and broadly. Lives are given shape in the heavy shadow of stilled dilemma and clarified in her finer brush strokes, but her images carry a sense of continuing on after their resolution. The stories told by her best works go on when we have ceased looking and on into fresh territories and a body of new choices. By these, her subjects are no more resolved in their lives than are we in our own.
Still, portraits are not her characteristic medium. Other than these, and in this proceeding form her sense is particularly keen, she represents scenes of place and person blended in life's activity and broadly. Lives are given shape in the heavy shadow of stilled dilemma and clarified in her finer brush strokes, but her images carry a sense of continuing on after their resolution. The stories told by her best works go on when we have ceased looking and on into fresh territories and a body of new choices. By these, her subjects are no more resolved in their lives than are we in our own.
June 24, 2020
Leer a Munro es como estar frente a una artista impresionista, una especie de Monet o Manet con pluma.
Los cuentos de esta gran escritora se desarrollan con trazos rápidos, sin detenerse en los detalles, sin descripciones grandilocuentes, pero tienen belleza en su conjunto y pintan un panorama íntegro.
En este caso (como en casi toda la obra de ella) asistimos a relatos sobre la vida cotidiana en zonas rurales de Canadá y uno deja volar la imaginación para ver y pensar a esos seres comunes que les acontecen situaciones ya sean traumáticas o mínimas. Todo sentimiento.
Los cuentos de esta gran escritora se desarrollan con trazos rápidos, sin detenerse en los detalles, sin descripciones grandilocuentes, pero tienen belleza en su conjunto y pintan un panorama íntegro.
En este caso (como en casi toda la obra de ella) asistimos a relatos sobre la vida cotidiana en zonas rurales de Canadá y uno deja volar la imaginación para ver y pensar a esos seres comunes que les acontecen situaciones ya sean traumáticas o mínimas. Todo sentimiento.
July 16, 2024
So, Margaret Atwood on Munro:
‘“Anatomised” might be closer to what goes on in the work of Munro, though even that term is too clinical. What should we call the combination of obsessive scrutiny, archaeological unearthing, precise and detailed recollection, the wallowing in the seamier and meaner and more vengeful undersides of human nature, the telling of erotic secrets, the nostalgia for vanished miseries, and rejoicing in the fullness and variety of life, stirred all together?’
Reading my 14th and final collection, I was reminded of the slyness in the way Munro structures her stories and has them unfold. It’s not uncommon for me, in the middle of a story, to wonder: Where is this going? Or when I reach the end: What is this story actually about?
It’s often unclear. It’s not one thing. While this can put some readers off, it’s one of the things her ardent admirers love most about her work. What is she getting at? What is she circling and working her way towards? It’s some mystery. The mystery of us. A truth that’s arrived at cleverly, at an angle, like it’s a game, where the elusive object is beyond our grasp, our language, and needs to be outwitted, caught, obliquely, with shifts in focus, changes in direction, and movements over time. Munro didn’t just explore general themes of love, marriage, friendship, sex and death, lost innocence, certain ways of life. She went to other, more obscure territories. Her revelations aren’t explicit. She can do this not just because she’s a great thinker and observer of people, but because of her technical skill, and the way she used the short form, often stretching the story to beyond 30 and 40 pages, to work some magic.
Olga Tokarczuk on the fiction she most enjoys:
‘Open-ended books intentionally leave themes and ideas unrestricted, rendering them a little blurred. They grant us wonderful space for making our own surmises, for seeking associations, for thinking and interpreting. This interpretive process is a source of great intellectual pleasure…’
That’s the pleasure in Munro.
‘“Anatomised” might be closer to what goes on in the work of Munro, though even that term is too clinical. What should we call the combination of obsessive scrutiny, archaeological unearthing, precise and detailed recollection, the wallowing in the seamier and meaner and more vengeful undersides of human nature, the telling of erotic secrets, the nostalgia for vanished miseries, and rejoicing in the fullness and variety of life, stirred all together?’
Reading my 14th and final collection, I was reminded of the slyness in the way Munro structures her stories and has them unfold. It’s not uncommon for me, in the middle of a story, to wonder: Where is this going? Or when I reach the end: What is this story actually about?
It’s often unclear. It’s not one thing. While this can put some readers off, it’s one of the things her ardent admirers love most about her work. What is she getting at? What is she circling and working her way towards? It’s some mystery. The mystery of us. A truth that’s arrived at cleverly, at an angle, like it’s a game, where the elusive object is beyond our grasp, our language, and needs to be outwitted, caught, obliquely, with shifts in focus, changes in direction, and movements over time. Munro didn’t just explore general themes of love, marriage, friendship, sex and death, lost innocence, certain ways of life. She went to other, more obscure territories. Her revelations aren’t explicit. She can do this not just because she’s a great thinker and observer of people, but because of her technical skill, and the way she used the short form, often stretching the story to beyond 30 and 40 pages, to work some magic.
Olga Tokarczuk on the fiction she most enjoys:
‘Open-ended books intentionally leave themes and ideas unrestricted, rendering them a little blurred. They grant us wonderful space for making our own surmises, for seeking associations, for thinking and interpreting. This interpretive process is a source of great intellectual pleasure…’
That’s the pleasure in Munro.
August 6, 2021
1993 notebook:
Dear Alice Munro,
this is a fan letter. I was reading your stories in 'The Progress of Love' commuting - 1 story there, 1 story back. I catch a train - 12 pages, a walk across the city, then a bus - 10 pages. Today was 'Miles City, Montana' there, 'Fits' back. Fine, fine stories, heartstopping; the latter, especially the last 2 pages with its walk on snow over fences and its revelation, made me high. Expand with knowledge, insight. On a bus in Birmingham (UK) your stories on my lap I have grown out of sight and yet smaller and sharper in my seat too.
Thanks..
Dear Alice Munro,
this is a fan letter. I was reading your stories in 'The Progress of Love' commuting - 1 story there, 1 story back. I catch a train - 12 pages, a walk across the city, then a bus - 10 pages. Today was 'Miles City, Montana' there, 'Fits' back. Fine, fine stories, heartstopping; the latter, especially the last 2 pages with its walk on snow over fences and its revelation, made me high. Expand with knowledge, insight. On a bus in Birmingham (UK) your stories on my lap I have grown out of sight and yet smaller and sharper in my seat too.
Thanks..
November 6, 2018
«El amor es algo muy extraño, hace cosas raras. Puede hacerte mezquino. (...) El amor te hace mezquino. Si te sientes dependiente de alguien, te portas de forma mezquina».
🥀
Releo a Alice Munro en el marco de la iniciativa #WomenPNL (es la penúltima mujer en recibir el PN, en 2013) y me sumerjo en los lagos y bosques canadienses buscando las raíces del amor, un amor que en los trece relatos de este libro se aleja del «ideal romántico» para presentarnos una realidad más microscópica y menos idealizada. Y es que el amor de Munro no es una tabla de salvación sino una soga que la madre de Marietta (la protagonista del primer relato) se coloca al cuello y, al mismo tiempo, el muelle que lanza a una madre a salvar a su hija de morir ahogada en «Miles City, Montana».
🥀
Munro explora las aristas del amor de pareja, especialmente cómo la pérdida de interés en el otro, la rutina y la distinta forma en la que dos personas evolucionan afectan a esa relación, cómo un pequeño gesto puede suponer una ruptura pero también cómo éste no es más que la gota que colma el vaso pues «ocurren cosas antes», «tiene que haber tirones y empujones» y es en esos vaivenes previos en los que ella bucea.
🥀
Pero no nos habla sólo del amor en torno a las dinámicas de pareja sino también a algo más amplio: a las relaciones entre los padres y las madres con sus hijos, entre dos amigas, como en «Jesse y Meribeth» e incluso entre los dos primos de «La luna en la pista de hielo», que pasan de hacer acrobacias fundiendo sus dos cuerpos en uno a separarse y no volver a verse durante años. Lo excepcional de Munro, y que atraviesa las historias aparentemente mundanas que cuenta, es su capacidad de congelar instantes, analizarlos y entrelazarlos, y de ahí contarnos una historia con ecos que resuenan en nosotros.
🥀
Munro no es sólo una de las escritoras actuales más importantes sino que leerla es un deleite para todos los sentidos gracias a su sentido del humor, al suspense que rodea su atmósfera, a su lenguaje afilado y a la precisión narrativa. Lo dicho, una delicia.
#AliceMunro #Elprogresodelamor #Theprogressoflove #MaternidadesLit
🥀
Releo a Alice Munro en el marco de la iniciativa #WomenPNL (es la penúltima mujer en recibir el PN, en 2013) y me sumerjo en los lagos y bosques canadienses buscando las raíces del amor, un amor que en los trece relatos de este libro se aleja del «ideal romántico» para presentarnos una realidad más microscópica y menos idealizada. Y es que el amor de Munro no es una tabla de salvación sino una soga que la madre de Marietta (la protagonista del primer relato) se coloca al cuello y, al mismo tiempo, el muelle que lanza a una madre a salvar a su hija de morir ahogada en «Miles City, Montana».
🥀
Munro explora las aristas del amor de pareja, especialmente cómo la pérdida de interés en el otro, la rutina y la distinta forma en la que dos personas evolucionan afectan a esa relación, cómo un pequeño gesto puede suponer una ruptura pero también cómo éste no es más que la gota que colma el vaso pues «ocurren cosas antes», «tiene que haber tirones y empujones» y es en esos vaivenes previos en los que ella bucea.
🥀
Pero no nos habla sólo del amor en torno a las dinámicas de pareja sino también a algo más amplio: a las relaciones entre los padres y las madres con sus hijos, entre dos amigas, como en «Jesse y Meribeth» e incluso entre los dos primos de «La luna en la pista de hielo», que pasan de hacer acrobacias fundiendo sus dos cuerpos en uno a separarse y no volver a verse durante años. Lo excepcional de Munro, y que atraviesa las historias aparentemente mundanas que cuenta, es su capacidad de congelar instantes, analizarlos y entrelazarlos, y de ahí contarnos una historia con ecos que resuenan en nosotros.
🥀
Munro no es sólo una de las escritoras actuales más importantes sino que leerla es un deleite para todos los sentidos gracias a su sentido del humor, al suspense que rodea su atmósfera, a su lenguaje afilado y a la precisión narrativa. Lo dicho, una delicia.
#AliceMunro #Elprogresodelamor #Theprogressoflove #MaternidadesLit
July 25, 2017
Onze contos narrados com a profundidade de um romance, ao nível do conhecimento das personagens, onde é dada primazia ao seu interior, desvalorizando o exterior.
Historias reveladoras do intimo e anseios mais profundos da alma humana.
Na sua maior parte são as mulheres as protagonistas principais e as "vítimas" do Progresso do Amor; do encantamento no seu início, do desespero no seu fim e do seu poder transformador.
"Liberta-me. Liberta-me. Devolve-me o juízo. Por favor, depressa. Por favor."
Historias reveladoras do intimo e anseios mais profundos da alma humana.
Na sua maior parte são as mulheres as protagonistas principais e as "vítimas" do Progresso do Amor; do encantamento no seu início, do desespero no seu fim e do seu poder transformador.
"Liberta-me. Liberta-me. Devolve-me o juízo. Por favor, depressa. Por favor."
August 6, 2011
Of the three collections I've read by Munro, I'd say this is arguably the weakest (the other two being Runaway and Open Secrets), but by any other standard, these are still utterly breathtaking stories. I suppose my two critiques would be that (a) this feels like cohesive as a collection in that each story seems only tangentially to tie back to a grander thematic thread; and (b) that there are two or three somewhat unmemorable stories. "Eskimo" and "Circle of Prayer" come to mind. Or rather, don't, and I had to look at the table of contents to recall their titles.
On the other hand, stories like "The Progress of Love," "Fits," "Jesse and Meribeth" and "A Queer Streak" are among the best short pieces of fiction I've read/heard all year, the first one being my personal favorite. Munro has a peculiar way of taking the positively mundane and awarding it a sense of breathtaking profundity, emotional weight, tragedy - meanwhile, those things which are tragic, particularly death here, often happen offstage but seem nevertheless terribly inevitable. Perhaps that's what I'm really trying to get at: the inevitability of life's events, whether they be tedious or irrecoverably wrenching, itself takes on a kind of epic quality. Nothing surprises - and everything surprises. You see I'm at a loss for how to describe this; that, I suppose, is why Munro is the master in this case.
If I were smart, I'd run out and buy every other collection Munro's written and spend the rest of the summer devouring them. I may just do that.
On the other hand, stories like "The Progress of Love," "Fits," "Jesse and Meribeth" and "A Queer Streak" are among the best short pieces of fiction I've read/heard all year, the first one being my personal favorite. Munro has a peculiar way of taking the positively mundane and awarding it a sense of breathtaking profundity, emotional weight, tragedy - meanwhile, those things which are tragic, particularly death here, often happen offstage but seem nevertheless terribly inevitable. Perhaps that's what I'm really trying to get at: the inevitability of life's events, whether they be tedious or irrecoverably wrenching, itself takes on a kind of epic quality. Nothing surprises - and everything surprises. You see I'm at a loss for how to describe this; that, I suppose, is why Munro is the master in this case.
If I were smart, I'd run out and buy every other collection Munro's written and spend the rest of the summer devouring them. I may just do that.
Read
October 31, 2019Poorly written story with an uninteresting plot, limited character development, convoluted sentence structure and a pretty stupid ending. Pass.
January 21, 2019
Given that I have already reviewed three of Alice Munro’s books (Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage - the best of all to date, in my humble opinion, Runaway and The View from Castle Rock) and given that the eleven short-stories in The Progression of Love develop similar themes and motives (in the same unique style, of course) such as love, loneliness, bigotry, family, etc., by using her well-known narrative tools (broken timeline, subtle irony, free indirect style etc.), I decided to let the narrators speak this time. However, because the book left me wondering whether love is a work in progress, or a progression towards something else, I’ll just try to point which way it goes in three kinds of love observed (fillial, fraternal and spousal), illustrating it with a quote.
Filial love could “evolve” into either self-deception or resentment. The narrator of the first story (that also gives the book title) tells to whoever wants to listen how her mother had burned in front of her husband the three thousand dollars (a small fortune in those times) she inherited from her much hated father even though they were very poor, underlining once and again, in a voice full of admiration, how, as a supreme proof of love, her husband did not think for a second to stop her. But the story is not true and she knows it:
On the other hand, the narrator in Mile City, Montana, remembers how irrationally resentful and judgmental she felt towards her parents when she was a child and a boy in their town accidentally died:
The love for siblings implies often the same self deception or resentment. The now adult Colin in Monsieur Deux Chapeaux knows that the love for his younger brother has become also his burden, from the age of thirteen when Ross had tricked him into believing he had shot him dead:
Violet, who has taken care of her sisters from a very tender age and whom her fiancé broke up with when he found about her siblings some despicable behaviour, tricks herself into believing it was her who sacrificed her love for the sake of the family:
Most of the stories illustrate spousal love, and the various ways it transforms itself when confronted with betrayal. For the “pensioned-off” wife in Lichen, who has mockingly got the power to transform the new women in her husband’s life in mere parasite plants, born from his infatuation and vanishing as soon as he tires of them, the sentiment has become caricatural witchcraft:
In Circle of Prayer, Trudy, remembering both her happy and sad times with her husband who meanwhile had left her for another woman, discovers that love (and the end of it) is nothing more than a “breathing space”:
On the contrary, for Isabel, who has left her perfect family behind, the breathing space is outside the suffocating, dutiful love she too often had convinced herself she had to feel:
The same dutiful love leads a husband towards deliberate blindness in front of the strange behaviour of his wife (who apparently had enjoyed the sight of a murder scene so much she jealously kept the gory details for herself), by convincing himself that the victims were, at the end of the day, of no importance:
The book ends with a verse in Old Norse I don’t know how to pronounce and couldn’t verify is real but I liked the sound of in my own invented pronunciation:
Filial love could “evolve” into either self-deception or resentment. The narrator of the first story (that also gives the book title) tells to whoever wants to listen how her mother had burned in front of her husband the three thousand dollars (a small fortune in those times) she inherited from her much hated father even though they were very poor, underlining once and again, in a voice full of admiration, how, as a supreme proof of love, her husband did not think for a second to stop her. But the story is not true and she knows it:
Why, then, can I see the scene so clearly, just as I described it to Bob Marks (and to others—he was not the first)? I see my father standing by the table in the middle of the room—the table with the drawer in it for knives and forks, and the scrubbed oilcloth on top—and there is the box of money on the table. My mother is carefully dropping the bills into the fire. She holds the stove lid by the blackened lifter in one hand. And my father, standing by, seems not just to be permitting her to do this but to be protecting her.”
On the other hand, the narrator in Mile City, Montana, remembers how irrationally resentful and judgmental she felt towards her parents when she was a child and a boy in their town accidentally died:
I charged them with effrontery, hypocrisy. On Steve Gauley’s behalf, and on behalf of all children, who knew that by rights they should have sprung up free, to live a new, superior kind of life, not to be caught in the snares of vanquished grownups, with their sex and funerals.
The love for siblings implies often the same self deception or resentment. The now adult Colin in Monsieur Deux Chapeaux knows that the love for his younger brother has become also his burden, from the age of thirteen when Ross had tricked him into believing he had shot him dead:
He knew that to watch out for something like that happening—to Ross, and to himself—was going to be his job in life from then on...
Violet, who has taken care of her sisters from a very tender age and whom her fiancé broke up with when he found about her siblings some despicable behaviour, tricks herself into believing it was her who sacrificed her love for the sake of the family:
That was the way Violet saw to leave her pain behind. A weight gone off her. If she would bow down and leave her old self behind as well, and all her ideas of what her life should be, the weight, the pain, the humiliation would all go magically. And she could still be chosen. She could be like the June grass that the morning light passed through, and lit up like pink feathers or streaks of sunrise cloud. If she prayed enough and tried enough, that would be possible.” (A queer streak)
Most of the stories illustrate spousal love, and the various ways it transforms itself when confronted with betrayal. For the “pensioned-off” wife in Lichen, who has mockingly got the power to transform the new women in her husband’s life in mere parasite plants, born from his infatuation and vanishing as soon as he tires of them, the sentiment has become caricatural witchcraft:
She said, “Lichen.” And now, look, her words have come true. The outline of the breast has disappeared. You would never know that the legs were legs. The black has turned to gray, to the soft, dry color of a plant mysteriously nourished on the rocks.
In Circle of Prayer, Trudy, remembering both her happy and sad times with her husband who meanwhile had left her for another woman, discovers that love (and the end of it) is nothing more than a “breathing space”:
She sees her young self looking in the window at the old woman playing the piano. The dim room, with its oversize beams and fireplace and the lonely leather chairs. The clattering, faltering, persistent piano music. Trudy remembers that so clearly and it seems she stood outside her own body, which ached then from the punishing pleasures of love. She stood outside her own happiness in a tide of sadness. And the opposite thing happened the morning Dan left. Then she stood outside her own unhappiness in a tide of what seemed unreasonably like love. But it was the same thing, really, when you got outside. What are those times that stand out, clear patches in your life—what do they have to do with it? They aren’t exactly promises. Breathing spaces.
On the contrary, for Isabel, who has left her perfect family behind, the breathing space is outside the suffocating, dutiful love she too often had convinced herself she had to feel:
She knew about Laurence’s delicacy and kindness, as well as she knew his bullying and bluffing. She knew the turns of his mind, his changes of heart, the little shifts and noises of his body. They were intimate. They had found out so much about each other that everything had got cancelled out by something else. That was why the sex between them could seem so shamefaced, merely and drearily lustful, like sex between siblings. Love could survive that—had survived it. Look how she loved him at this moment. Isabel felt herself newly, and boundlessly, resourceful.” (/i>White Dump)
The same dutiful love leads a husband towards deliberate blindness in front of the strange behaviour of his wife (who apparently had enjoyed the sight of a murder scene so much she jealously kept the gory details for herself), by convincing himself that the victims were, at the end of the day, of no importance:
He thought of himself telling Peg about this—how close he had to get before he saw that what amazed him and bewildered him so was nothing but old wrecks, and how he then felt disappointed, but also like laughing. They needed some new thing to talk about. Now he felt more like going home”. (Fits)
The book ends with a verse in Old Norse I don’t know how to pronounce and couldn’t verify is real but I liked the sound of in my own invented pronunciation:
Seinat er at segia; svá er nu rádit. (It is too late to talk of this now: it has been decided.) (White Dump)
October 18, 2018
قراءة في كتابي (حكايات إيفا لونا) للكاتبة التشيلية إيزابيل الليندي، (مسيرة الحب) للكاتبة الكندية أليس مونرو
محمود فلاح المحادين
قرأتهما بالتزامن لذلك قررت أن أعقد مقارنة لطيفة بينهما ولكن قبل ذلك أريد أن أوضح وجهة نظر أؤمن بها وأطبقها كثيراً عندما أقرأ مؤلفات كاتب ما وأقرأ سيرته الذاتية علماً بأن الكاتبتين ليستا بحاجة للحديث عنهما فهما غنيتان عن التعريف ولكل منهما ملايين المعجبين ومئات الجوائز الأدبية عدا المقالات التي كتبت عنهما في كل أرجاء العالم وقبل هذا وبعده بإمكانك أن تقرأ أي مؤلف لهما وستجد بنفسك أنك تقف أمام مواهب وقدرات لن تتكرر ربما لمئة عام أخرى، أما أليس مونرو فحاصلة على جائزة نوبل للآداب عام 2013 وإن كان هذا قد لا يعني البعض من حيث حبهم لأسلوبها أو عدمه ولكنه يعني أنها تحقق جميع عناصر القصة القصيرة على الأقل!
أما نظريتي فتقول بأن الإنسان إذا نشأ في بيئة صحية ولم تكون حياته مضطربة وكانت حياته إنسيابية وحصل على اهتمام ورعاية وتغذية-نعم تغذية- سليمة حسب مرحلته العمرية ولم يسافر في بداية حياته كثيراً ولم تتغير عليه البيئة وكان أهله يراعون موهبته ويهتمون بها وبتنميتها سيكون دماغه وأفكاره مرتبة بإنتظام ولن يجد صعوبة في سردها بسلاسة وهذا ما نلاحظه عند أليس مونروا...
أما من كانت حياته مضطربة وطفولته مشوشة وتعرض لصدمات نفسية عنيفة فستكون أفكاره مثل كتلة الشَعَر التي تسقط بعد أن تمشط الفتاة شعرها متشابكة ومعقدة وستجد أن تعبيره عنها إما بسيطاً للغاية وسطحي أو متذبذب وغير واضح وهذا ما نلاحظه عند إيزابيل الليندي ولكن على شكل أفكار بسيطة جداً ولكنها متتالية، لذلك نلاحظ أنها تسير عبر خط واحد طول القصة لتشعر بأنها لو خرجت قليلاً عن التسلسل لإنهارت القصة كلها ولكنها بسبب تمكنها وقوتها لم تخرج ولو مرة واحدة....
أليس مونروا عندها قدرة عجيبة على تجميدك عند موقف معين ثم أخذك بعيداً في الماضي والتاريخ ونقلك إلى مكان آخر تماماً دون أن تحس ثم ترجعك بعد عدة صفحات كأنك لم تغادر! أما إغراقك في التفاصيل الصغيرة جداً فلا أحد يقارعها فيها...
إيزابيل بدورها تأخذك عبر أسلوبها السلس فترفع من وتيرة الأحداث دون أن تشعر وبرغم كلماتها البسيطة وجملها المتتالية المترابطة إلا أنك لا تستطيع ترك القصة قبل الكلمة الأخيرة...
أما أنا فأفضل إيزابيل لأن أفكار قصصها أقرب إلى قلبي وأسلوبها كذلك، وقصصها صالحة لتلجأ إليها بعد كتاب دسم ومتعب...
محمود فلاح المحادين
قرأتهما بالتزامن لذلك قررت أن أعقد مقارنة لطيفة بينهما ولكن قبل ذلك أريد أن أوضح وجهة نظر أؤمن بها وأطبقها كثيراً عندما أقرأ مؤلفات كاتب ما وأقرأ سيرته الذاتية علماً بأن الكاتبتين ليستا بحاجة للحديث عنهما فهما غنيتان عن التعريف ولكل منهما ملايين المعجبين ومئات الجوائز الأدبية عدا المقالات التي كتبت عنهما في كل أرجاء العالم وقبل هذا وبعده بإمكانك أن تقرأ أي مؤلف لهما وستجد بنفسك أنك تقف أمام مواهب وقدرات لن تتكرر ربما لمئة عام أخرى، أما أليس مونرو فحاصلة على جائزة نوبل للآداب عام 2013 وإن كان هذا قد لا يعني البعض من حيث حبهم لأسلوبها أو عدمه ولكنه يعني أنها تحقق جميع عناصر القصة القصيرة على الأقل!
أما نظريتي فتقول بأن الإنسان إذا نشأ في بيئة صحية ولم تكون حياته مضطربة وكانت حياته إنسيابية وحصل على اهتمام ورعاية وتغذية-نعم تغذية- سليمة حسب مرحلته العمرية ولم يسافر في بداية حياته كثيراً ولم تتغير عليه البيئة وكان أهله يراعون موهبته ويهتمون بها وبتنميتها سيكون دماغه وأفكاره مرتبة بإنتظام ولن يجد صعوبة في سردها بسلاسة وهذا ما نلاحظه عند أليس مونروا...
أما من كانت حياته مضطربة وطفولته مشوشة وتعرض لصدمات نفسية عنيفة فستكون أفكاره مثل كتلة الشَعَر التي تسقط بعد أن تمشط الفتاة شعرها متشابكة ومعقدة وستجد أن تعبيره عنها إما بسيطاً للغاية وسطحي أو متذبذب وغير واضح وهذا ما نلاحظه عند إيزابيل الليندي ولكن على شكل أفكار بسيطة جداً ولكنها متتالية، لذلك نلاحظ أنها تسير عبر خط واحد طول القصة لتشعر بأنها لو خرجت قليلاً عن التسلسل لإنهارت القصة كلها ولكنها بسبب تمكنها وقوتها لم تخرج ولو مرة واحدة....
أليس مونروا عندها قدرة عجيبة على تجميدك عند موقف معين ثم أخذك بعيداً في الماضي والتاريخ ونقلك إلى مكان آخر تماماً دون أن تحس ثم ترجعك بعد عدة صفحات كأنك لم تغادر! أما إغراقك في التفاصيل الصغيرة جداً فلا أحد يقارعها فيها...
إيزابيل بدورها تأخذك عبر أسلوبها السلس فترفع من وتيرة الأحداث دون أن تشعر وبرغم كلماتها البسيطة وجملها المتتالية المترابطة إلا أنك لا تستطيع ترك القصة قبل الكلمة الأخيرة...
أما أنا فأفضل إيزابيل لأن أفكار قصصها أقرب إلى قلبي وأسلوبها كذلك، وقصصها صالحة لتلجأ إليها بعد كتاب دسم ومتعب...
November 21, 2013
I guess Alice Munro is a good writer. I'll probably read something else by her but in a more distant future.
I struggled with this book. Everything seemed to be right, yet every time I was picking it up, I was wincing. I was wading through it, I was procrastinating, I was looking for excuses to drop it. I wanted it to end.
I found it depressive although I have read far sadder books but their tone of sadness was understandable whereas this one was not. It was not that kind of suffering that leads to the tragic end after which you bounce back (or not). It was more like unconstructive wallowing. I am glad I don't have to open this book again.
I struggled with this book. Everything seemed to be right, yet every time I was picking it up, I was wincing. I was wading through it, I was procrastinating, I was looking for excuses to drop it. I wanted it to end.
I found it depressive although I have read far sadder books but their tone of sadness was understandable whereas this one was not. It was not that kind of suffering that leads to the tragic end after which you bounce back (or not). It was more like unconstructive wallowing. I am glad I don't have to open this book again.
July 12, 2020
I look for emotional connection/resonance with the books I read, if not in its overarching scope, at least in some limited narrative capacity. While my last reading of Alice Munro (Dear Life) was great, I remained a touch untouched by it. This one, however, was phenomenal; a stirring whirlwind of stories with stunning portrayals of the interior worlds of those (mostly women) who live an inward kind of life; and in terms of short collections, it’s now right alongside my best ever.
As the title says, The Progress of Love is a set of stories about how love grows, stands stagnant or diminishes as people age in years. It is about the transience of love but also its quietly lingering permanence; the ultimate inescapability from it and sometimes, or most, its sheer cruelty. These stories are made up of all my favourite things in fiction; the intricacies of all kinds of relationships (but mostly marriages) and the inherent complications arising out of love in all their subsequent equations, the moral dilemmas of love and other emotions, the inevitable interference of fate and the inexplicable change of time.
Every story here is structured as if it has a secret to divulge; a sort of mystery built into each one that I needed to know, and so I tried to rush but the graceful elegance and profundity of language stopped me in my tracks every time until I re-read and savoured the same sentence some more. By mystery, I do not mean the who and what but the how and why of thoughts and feelings, actions and life affairs. Like, a story, the most haunting of the lot, started by saying a couple was found dead in their house, and then would go on about the neighbouring couple and their equation with each other and how one of them discovered the dead bodies which would lead to a sudden but apparent realisation of one spouse about the other and it’s not what you’d think. I found Munro’s prose to be unnervingly intimate, an inside-out kind of experience that I’m not able to put into words, but I felt looked into but also understood things I’ve not felt before.
Except the title story, which I didn’t really understand, if there’s a thing called perfection, this book is it. 5 stars!
As the title says, The Progress of Love is a set of stories about how love grows, stands stagnant or diminishes as people age in years. It is about the transience of love but also its quietly lingering permanence; the ultimate inescapability from it and sometimes, or most, its sheer cruelty. These stories are made up of all my favourite things in fiction; the intricacies of all kinds of relationships (but mostly marriages) and the inherent complications arising out of love in all their subsequent equations, the moral dilemmas of love and other emotions, the inevitable interference of fate and the inexplicable change of time.
Every story here is structured as if it has a secret to divulge; a sort of mystery built into each one that I needed to know, and so I tried to rush but the graceful elegance and profundity of language stopped me in my tracks every time until I re-read and savoured the same sentence some more. By mystery, I do not mean the who and what but the how and why of thoughts and feelings, actions and life affairs. Like, a story, the most haunting of the lot, started by saying a couple was found dead in their house, and then would go on about the neighbouring couple and their equation with each other and how one of them discovered the dead bodies which would lead to a sudden but apparent realisation of one spouse about the other and it’s not what you’d think. I found Munro’s prose to be unnervingly intimate, an inside-out kind of experience that I’m not able to put into words, but I felt looked into but also understood things I’ve not felt before.
Except the title story, which I didn’t really understand, if there’s a thing called perfection, this book is it. 5 stars!
February 11, 2014
Questa raccolta di racconti brevi va letta con attenzione per i dettagli, perché sono proprio questi i veri protagonisti.
Il primo impatto,devo ammetterlo,non è stato dei migliori: i racconti sembravano lasciare l'azione in sospeso,senza conclusione. Poi mi sono resa che i racconti di Alice Munro non sono "drammatici" nel senso etimologico del termine; i protagonisti sono grovigli di emozioni, sentimenti che si avvicendano nelle vite dei personaggi.
Alice Munro rappresenta quello che si cela dietro una lacrima,un sorriso appena abbozzato,una risata sfrontata. Perché tutte queste cose non sono altro che increspature sulla superficie dell'animo: è nelle profondità che si nasconde il vero sentimento.
Ecco,i protagonisti di Munro sono emozioni e paure,reazioni istintive.
I personaggi non sono altro che viatici di tali grovigli di emozioni.
Questa è solo la mia personale interpretazione, ovviamente.
Il percorso dell'amore è un libro che ho imparato ad apprezzare poco alla volta, racconto dopo racconto, un personaggio dopo l'altro.
Alice Munro è una grande autrice che lascia i suoi protagonisti liberi di agire sulla pagina,senza interferenze o giudizi.
Il primo impatto,devo ammetterlo,non è stato dei migliori: i racconti sembravano lasciare l'azione in sospeso,senza conclusione. Poi mi sono resa che i racconti di Alice Munro non sono "drammatici" nel senso etimologico del termine; i protagonisti sono grovigli di emozioni, sentimenti che si avvicendano nelle vite dei personaggi.
Alice Munro rappresenta quello che si cela dietro una lacrima,un sorriso appena abbozzato,una risata sfrontata. Perché tutte queste cose non sono altro che increspature sulla superficie dell'animo: è nelle profondità che si nasconde il vero sentimento.
Ecco,i protagonisti di Munro sono emozioni e paure,reazioni istintive.
I personaggi non sono altro che viatici di tali grovigli di emozioni.
Questa è solo la mia personale interpretazione, ovviamente.
Il percorso dell'amore è un libro che ho imparato ad apprezzare poco alla volta, racconto dopo racconto, un personaggio dopo l'altro.
Alice Munro è una grande autrice che lascia i suoi protagonisti liberi di agire sulla pagina,senza interferenze o giudizi.
August 30, 2022
So many little gay people in small town Ontario, it turns out!
March 21, 2024
مدتی بود داستان کوتاه نخونده بودم (راستش چون زیاد هم علاقه ندارم.) و به نظرم خیییلی مهارت میخواد که بتونی سر و ته داستان رو به شکل هنرمندانهای توی چندصفحه هم بیاری و آلیس مونرو واقعاً هنرمنده! توصیفات دقیق، تصویرسازیهای شگفتانگیز، تعلیقهای بهجا و انتخاب کلمات بینظیر.
اگه خوششانس باشیم، کتابها ما رو انتخاب میکنن تا به موقع بخونیمشون. و خوندت این کتاب برای من بهموقعترین بود. لذّت بردم و توی هر داستانی، یهتیکه از خودم رو پیدا کردم.
اگه خوششانس باشیم، کتابها ما رو انتخاب میکنن تا به موقع بخونیمشون. و خوندت این کتاب برای من بهموقعترین بود. لذّت بردم و توی هر داستانی، یهتیکه از خودم رو پیدا کردم.
September 30, 2022
Creo que esta no fue mi lectura. Lo bueno que fue en LC y me sentí apoyada pero si la verdad que a partir de un cuento dije de aquí soy ya agarre vuelo pero nop,
September 24, 2015
Picked this book because of the tag saying " Winner of the Nobel prize in Literature 2013" thought I would be blown away. Sadly reading the first five stories I am disappointed. Found it a bit mundane. The stories in my opinion have the same sort of characters. For example a trucker who sort of abandons his family and goes to the Arctic to work in oil rigs. I encountered this character in two short stories so far. And the wife who brings up two boys all by her own.
Reading this book now has become an effort, since I want to finish this. Six stories to go so far.
Final verdict - I didn't find it enjoying reading this at a stretch. When you read one story at a time with intervals between it becomes more entertaining.
Reading this book now has become an effort, since I want to finish this. Six stories to go so far.
Final verdict - I didn't find it enjoying reading this at a stretch. When you read one story at a time with intervals between it becomes more entertaining.
February 6, 2015
I'm sorry but I thought it was OK. Clearly based upon other reviews and awards I am in the minority. But these stories are just sketches of situations that don't really "say" anything. I never know quite what the message is or what I'm supposed to take away from it. This is "abstract" literature...it is beautifully written but I just need more.
June 30, 2020
Le due stelline non hanno a che fare con l'indiscussa bravura della Munro, ma piuttosto con la mia discutibilissima opinione in merito a ciò che la sua scrittura NON riesce a suscitare in me, per quanto accurata e limpida. Non sono riuscita ad entrare in sintonia coi racconti, con le storie narrate, coi personaggi. E' stato come avere sempre fra me e questi elementi un velo sottile, una ragnatela fastidiosa, di quelle che potresti trovare addentrandoti in una caverna sconosciuta e oscura.
Mi spiace, anche perché, nonostante tra me e la Munro non sia mai scoccata una scintilla di vero amore, molti anni fa quando lessi Stringimi forte, non lasciarmi andare la mia reazione era stata diversa.
E' anche vero che questa è la raccolta d'esordio, se non sbaglio. Col tempo la maturità dello stile ha reso le ragnatele più lievi.
Mi spiace, anche perché, nonostante tra me e la Munro non sia mai scoccata una scintilla di vero amore, molti anni fa quando lessi Stringimi forte, non lasciarmi andare la mia reazione era stata diversa.
E' anche vero che questa è la raccolta d'esordio, se non sbaglio. Col tempo la maturità dello stile ha reso le ragnatele più lievi.
April 21, 2023
About a three star. I've read some of her stuff, there's a nasty, possibly helpful, line in one particular book a mother tells her daughter they will never love you if you chase them. I internally rolled my eyes. It's pretty good. I have her collection in hardcover. I keep it but not very tempted to read much more.
January 13, 2021
Alice Munro is the absolute queen of short stories. Each story is a micro universe of emotions. Gorgeous.
November 16, 2016
Nei vari racconti che compongono la raccolta e di cui la Munro è maestra, la scrittrice ci parla delle diverse forme d'amore.
L'amore, raccontato dalla Munro, assume di volta in volta diverse sfumature e sfaccettature. L'amore descritto qui è l'amore filiale, come nel primo racconto che dà il titolo alla raccolta, dove una donna, una figlia riscopre vecchi ricordi nella casa dei genitori, ricostruendo così la sua vita e il suo passato.
E' l'amore coniugale o anche l'amore/ affetto tra due amiche come nel racconto "Jesse e Meribeth".
In tutti questi racconti, apparentemente semplici, si annida la tragedia, l'incomprensione, il dramma, aspetti dove spesso i dettagli, come una tazzina di caffè o qualcos'altro in particolare, fanno la differenza.
I personaggi dei racconti della Munro, sia uomini che donne, anche se queste sono le maggiori protagoniste dei suoi racconti, vivono questa alternanza, queste storie come se fossero continuamente sospesi tra bene e male e il lettore è in sospensione, prosegue su questo filo in loro compagnia.
L'amore, raccontato dalla Munro, assume di volta in volta diverse sfumature e sfaccettature. L'amore descritto qui è l'amore filiale, come nel primo racconto che dà il titolo alla raccolta, dove una donna, una figlia riscopre vecchi ricordi nella casa dei genitori, ricostruendo così la sua vita e il suo passato.
E' l'amore coniugale o anche l'amore/ affetto tra due amiche come nel racconto "Jesse e Meribeth".
In tutti questi racconti, apparentemente semplici, si annida la tragedia, l'incomprensione, il dramma, aspetti dove spesso i dettagli, come una tazzina di caffè o qualcos'altro in particolare, fanno la differenza.
I personaggi dei racconti della Munro, sia uomini che donne, anche se queste sono le maggiori protagoniste dei suoi racconti, vivono questa alternanza, queste storie come se fossero continuamente sospesi tra bene e male e il lettore è in sospensione, prosegue su questo filo in loro compagnia.
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