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Dance of the Happy Shades: And Other Stories
Fifteen stories about life in rural Ontario deal with adolescence, loneliness, broken hearts, an abandoned wife, family relations, blind dates, and an aspiring writer
240 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1968
407 people are currently reading
5486 people want to read
About the author
Alice Munro
241 books6,608 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 524 reviews
January 11, 2026
A town by the lake… Poverty… A girl tells us about her family… She talks about her father… He jokingly calls himself Walker Brothers Cowboy…
Stories of the town and rural vicinities… Oldtimers and newcomers… Unavoidable changes… A girl’s recollection of her father and their visit to a lunatic’s hovel… An accidental one night stand… A strange and funny episode in the author’s life… A pretentious account of a girl’s drunken farce… Death in a family… A sick girl in the hospital… Busy days at a silver fox farm… A whole gamut of subjects…
The old piano teacher gives a yearly party for her pupils… And the celebration is full of apprehension and ghosts of the past… The party is the Dance of the Happy Shades…
Time brings changes and it makes us change too.
He has a song about it, with these two lines:
And have all linaments and oils,
For everything from corns to boils.…
Not a very funny song, in my mother’s opinion. A pedlar’s song, and that is what he is, a pedlar knocking at backwoods kitchens.
Stories of the town and rural vicinities… Oldtimers and newcomers… Unavoidable changes… A girl’s recollection of her father and their visit to a lunatic’s hovel… An accidental one night stand… A strange and funny episode in the author’s life… A pretentious account of a girl’s drunken farce… Death in a family… A sick girl in the hospital… Busy days at a silver fox farm… A whole gamut of subjects…
The old piano teacher gives a yearly party for her pupils… And the celebration is full of apprehension and ghosts of the past… The party is the Dance of the Happy Shades…
Miss Marsalles is wearing her rouge, her hairdo and her brocaded dress, which it is difficult not to tramp on. In this full light she looks like a character in a masquerade, like the feverish, fancied-up courtesan of an unpleasant Puritan imagination.
Time brings changes and it makes us change too.
May 14, 2023
4.5★
“The word girl had formerly seemed to me innocent and unburdened, like the word child; now it appeared that it was no such thing. A girl was not, as I had supposed, simply what I was; it was what I had to become. It was a definition, always touched with emphasis, with reproach and disappointment. Also it was a joke on me.
. . .
My grandmother came to stay with us for a few weeks and I heard other things. ‘Girls don't slam doors like that.’ ‘Girls keep their knees together when they sit down.’ And worse still, when I asked some questions, ‘That's none of girls’ business.’ I continued to slam the doors and sit as awkwardly as possible, thinking that by such measures I kept myself free.”
Canadian author Alice Munro’s short stories are enormously popular. This was her very first book, published in 1968, and I understand there is a lot from her own life in here. One of the stories, “Boys and Girls” begins “My father was a fox farmer”. Munro’s father was a fox farmer. There are a couple of other stories told from this particular girl’s point of view. They focus on what she sees as the dull life of women and the interesting lives of men.
“It seemed to me that work in the house was endless, dreary and peculiarly depressing; work done out of doors, and in my father's service, was ritualistically important.”
There are several stories about girls and boys in small towns with nothing much to do. My own observations are that seems to be an issue of age, not place. Young people in their middle and late teens are anxious to get out, to anywhere ‘else’, where life is lively and people are interesting. There is never anything ‘to do’ in a hometown. There’s ‘nothing for the kids’, is the common complaint in communities today.
Munro shows that what they mostly want to do is be with each other, away from their parents and other adults. And they resent the pressure they feel to please their parents. In “Red Dress”, the girl’s mother has made her a special dress for a dance, all the while reciting her same old stories about growing up with second-hand clothes.
“I was afraid she was going to start again on the story of her walking seven miles to town and finding a job waiting on tables in a boarding-house, so that she could go to high school.”
She goes to the dance with a friend, they sneak out to smoke, “live dangerously”, and once back inside, she is stunned to be asked to dance. Not only that, the boy walks her home. She has surprised herself. Perhaps she is not a failure.
“It was all true. My life was possible. I went past the kitchen window and I saw my mother. She was sitting with her feet on the open oven door, drinking tea out of a cup without a saucer. She was just sitting and waiting for me to come home and tell her everything that had happened. And I would not do it, I never would. But when I saw the waiting kitchen, and my mother in her faded, fuzzy Paisley kimono, with her sleepy but doggedly expectant face, I understood what a mysterious and oppressive obligation I had, to be happy, and how I had almost failed it, and would be likely to fail it, every time, and she would not know.”
An oppressive obligation to be happy . . . or at least to pretend to be. The things we do to our children, and still do. A timeless tale about ‘success’.
“The Shining Houses”, deals with a problem that is possibly worse today than when this was written. It’s about the ‘tone’ of the neighbourhood in a new subdivision. You know, one of those areas that has opened up around some existing old homes so that young, first-home owners can move in and start new families
“The place had become fixed, impregnable, all its accumulations necessary, until it seemed that even the wash-tubs, mops, couch springs and stacks of old police magazines on the back porch were there to stay.
. . .
‘She's been here forty years, now we're here,’ Carl said. ‘So it goes. And whether you realize it or not, just standing there that house is bringing down the resale value of every house on this street. I'm in the business, I know.’
And these were joined by other voices; it did not matter much what they said as long as they were full of self-assertion and anger. That was their strength, proof of their adulthood, of themselves and their seriousness. The spirit of anger rose among them, bearing up their young voices, sweeping them together as on a flood of intoxication, and they admired each other in this new behaviour as property-owners as people admire each other for being drunk.”
I just love the way Munro depicts these young snobs as thinking they are now grown-ups, because they are talking about property and values, just like their parents do. Mary tries to question the group about the old lady’s right to her life there. Nobody agrees or applauds, as they would in stories.
“. . . but in real life they all smiled in rather a special way and you saw that what you had really done was serve yourself up as a conversational delight for the next coffee party.”
. . .
‘Nobody wants to turn her out just for the fun of it,’ Carl said. ‘Its unfortunate. We all know that. But we have to think of the community.’”
Yeah, right. ‘The community.’ Except for the original one.
I do enjoy Munro’s stories. The people and their lives, circumstances, and settings all feel real. There are 15 in this debut, and you can read many of her stories here, for free, including “Boys and Girls”, from which I quoted.
https://lithub.com/25-alice-munro-sto...
She won the 2013 Nobel Prize for Literature for her work as "master of the contemporary short story". Enjoy some of her work now.
“The word girl had formerly seemed to me innocent and unburdened, like the word child; now it appeared that it was no such thing. A girl was not, as I had supposed, simply what I was; it was what I had to become. It was a definition, always touched with emphasis, with reproach and disappointment. Also it was a joke on me.
. . .
My grandmother came to stay with us for a few weeks and I heard other things. ‘Girls don't slam doors like that.’ ‘Girls keep their knees together when they sit down.’ And worse still, when I asked some questions, ‘That's none of girls’ business.’ I continued to slam the doors and sit as awkwardly as possible, thinking that by such measures I kept myself free.”
Canadian author Alice Munro’s short stories are enormously popular. This was her very first book, published in 1968, and I understand there is a lot from her own life in here. One of the stories, “Boys and Girls” begins “My father was a fox farmer”. Munro’s father was a fox farmer. There are a couple of other stories told from this particular girl’s point of view. They focus on what she sees as the dull life of women and the interesting lives of men.
“It seemed to me that work in the house was endless, dreary and peculiarly depressing; work done out of doors, and in my father's service, was ritualistically important.”
There are several stories about girls and boys in small towns with nothing much to do. My own observations are that seems to be an issue of age, not place. Young people in their middle and late teens are anxious to get out, to anywhere ‘else’, where life is lively and people are interesting. There is never anything ‘to do’ in a hometown. There’s ‘nothing for the kids’, is the common complaint in communities today.
Munro shows that what they mostly want to do is be with each other, away from their parents and other adults. And they resent the pressure they feel to please their parents. In “Red Dress”, the girl’s mother has made her a special dress for a dance, all the while reciting her same old stories about growing up with second-hand clothes.
“I was afraid she was going to start again on the story of her walking seven miles to town and finding a job waiting on tables in a boarding-house, so that she could go to high school.”
She goes to the dance with a friend, they sneak out to smoke, “live dangerously”, and once back inside, she is stunned to be asked to dance. Not only that, the boy walks her home. She has surprised herself. Perhaps she is not a failure.
“It was all true. My life was possible. I went past the kitchen window and I saw my mother. She was sitting with her feet on the open oven door, drinking tea out of a cup without a saucer. She was just sitting and waiting for me to come home and tell her everything that had happened. And I would not do it, I never would. But when I saw the waiting kitchen, and my mother in her faded, fuzzy Paisley kimono, with her sleepy but doggedly expectant face, I understood what a mysterious and oppressive obligation I had, to be happy, and how I had almost failed it, and would be likely to fail it, every time, and she would not know.”
An oppressive obligation to be happy . . . or at least to pretend to be. The things we do to our children, and still do. A timeless tale about ‘success’.
“The Shining Houses”, deals with a problem that is possibly worse today than when this was written. It’s about the ‘tone’ of the neighbourhood in a new subdivision. You know, one of those areas that has opened up around some existing old homes so that young, first-home owners can move in and start new families
“The place had become fixed, impregnable, all its accumulations necessary, until it seemed that even the wash-tubs, mops, couch springs and stacks of old police magazines on the back porch were there to stay.
. . .
‘She's been here forty years, now we're here,’ Carl said. ‘So it goes. And whether you realize it or not, just standing there that house is bringing down the resale value of every house on this street. I'm in the business, I know.’
And these were joined by other voices; it did not matter much what they said as long as they were full of self-assertion and anger. That was their strength, proof of their adulthood, of themselves and their seriousness. The spirit of anger rose among them, bearing up their young voices, sweeping them together as on a flood of intoxication, and they admired each other in this new behaviour as property-owners as people admire each other for being drunk.”
I just love the way Munro depicts these young snobs as thinking they are now grown-ups, because they are talking about property and values, just like their parents do. Mary tries to question the group about the old lady’s right to her life there. Nobody agrees or applauds, as they would in stories.
“. . . but in real life they all smiled in rather a special way and you saw that what you had really done was serve yourself up as a conversational delight for the next coffee party.”
. . .
‘Nobody wants to turn her out just for the fun of it,’ Carl said. ‘Its unfortunate. We all know that. But we have to think of the community.’”
Yeah, right. ‘The community.’ Except for the original one.
I do enjoy Munro’s stories. The people and their lives, circumstances, and settings all feel real. There are 15 in this debut, and you can read many of her stories here, for free, including “Boys and Girls”, from which I quoted.
https://lithub.com/25-alice-munro-sto...
She won the 2013 Nobel Prize for Literature for her work as "master of the contemporary short story". Enjoy some of her work now.
May 15, 2024
https://kansasbooks.blogspot.com/2022...
"Finjo recordar mucho menos de lo que en realidad recuerdo, por miedo a quedar atrapada en la nostalgia o emociones que no deseo."
“Danza de las sombras” (Dance of the Happy Shades) fue la primera colección de cuentos de Alice Munro que se publicó en 1968 y que hasta ahora había permanecido inédito en España. Se hace raro volver a los inicios de una autora de la que me lo he leído casi todo, y digo que se hace raro porque aquí en estos primeros relatos todavía no había madurado del todo, o por lo menos, no se había liberado de algunas formas de las que luego se liberó convirtiéndose en una autora única e inigualable. Aqui en estos quince relatos todavía no están muy desarrolladas sus famosas elipsis y en general son cuentos que se destacan por ser relatos por mujeres, niñas, adolescentes, que viven normalmente en una zona rural y de alguna forma son conscientes que no encajan, se asfixian y quizá sueñen con alejarse de este mundo cerrado de apariencias. Son cuentos donde Alice Munro elabora un argumento más o menos convencional si lo comparamos a su trabajo posterior, y así y todo son unos cuentos magníficos. Quizá alguien que se acerque por primera vez al trabajo de Alice Munro pueda pensar que en sus historias no pase nada, o por lo menos nada extraordinario… ¿pero no es ya suficientemente extraordinario el día a día, batallar con ciertas emociones y/o liberarse de ciertas cadenas?? Pues eso, que en los cuentos de Alice Munro pasan continuamente cosas extraordinarias pero sin algarabías, en lo más íntimo.
"En cuanto a mí, aprovechaba el momento quizá más perfecto e íntimo del día, me arropaba bien y retomaba alguna de las historias que me inventaba cada noche. Eran historias protagonizadas por mí, solo que un poco más mayor, y transcurrían en un mundo reconocible, pero donde se presentaban oportunidades para demostrar valor, audacia y sacrificio que en el mío nunca surgían."
A continuación algunas reflexiones en torno a estos cuentos mientras los leía:
1.El vaquero de Walkers Brothers: Llevo todo el día dándole vueltas a este cuento, maravilloso. El punto de vista es el de una niña que por primera vez parece ser consciente de la realidad de la vida a través de sus padres, el primer paso de consciencia de adulta. Un incidente durante una salida con su padre, quizá la haga darse cuenta de que su padre añora algo del pasado, y que su madre no sea felíz. Maravilla.
2. Las casas flamantes: La modernidad enfrentada a la destrucción de lo antiguo. Una nueva urbanización de casas igualitas unas a otras, y en medio, la casa vieja de la señora Fullerton, con sus gallinas y su jardín salvaje. La obsesión por las apariencias, por jugar a parecerse a los ricos, a través del simbolo de sus casas, pone sobre el tapete la hipocresía de la sociedad en la que vivimos. Lúcida Munro.
3. Imágenes: De nuevo tenemos aquí a una narradora en la forma de una niña que va explorando el mundo a través de sus mayores. Su madre está enferma y la cuida la enfermera de la familia, Mary, un agente externo que ha venido a hacer cambios en su casa. Por otra parte, el incidente al principio del relato, en el bosque me parece magnífico, por la forma en que se manifiesta lo desconocido y el misterio para esta niña.
4. Gracias por el paseo: De las pocas veces, quizá la única en la que el narrador en un relato de la Munro es masculino. Dos chicos que llegan a un pueblo desconocido conocen a dos chicas, quieren pasar el rato, sin embargo, aunque el protagonismo parece ejercido por ellos, son ellas, sobre todo Lois, quien llevarán el control de la narración y quien dejará huella en la historia.
"-¿A qué es gracioso?- dijo - Las chicas se pasan todo el invierno hablando del último verano, hablan y hablan de esos tipos, y te apuesto lo que quieras a que ellos no se acuerdan ni de cómo se llaman..."
5. El Despacho: En este cuento Alice Munro hace un homenaje a Virginia Woolf y su habitación propia. La narradora es una escritora que alquila una habitación para poder escribir fuera del ámbito doméstico, un respiro de unas pocas horas a la semana. Alice Munro, sin aspavientos, y con coherencia, relata lo difícil que es para una ama de casa con hijos, encontrar un remanso de paz. Relato autobiográfico sí o sí.
"- Como tampoco es normal que una mujer joven, que dice estar casada y con hijos, se pase las horas escribiendo a máquina como una posesa.
(...)
- Y una cosa más: afirma ser escritora. Pues verá, leo bastante y nunca he visto su nombre impreso."
6. Mejor el remedio: Un relato sobre el primer amor, la primera decepción y de paso, la primera borrachera. Un cuento muy lúcido sobre una adolescente que quería morirse pero por poco tiempo... pronto su vida se llenó con otras cosas. Mientras tanto la Munro hace un esbozo sobre la vida familiar y sobre la angustia adolescente, apenas en dos trazos.
7. La hora de la muerte: uno de esos cuentos donde la protagonista es la muerte, pero también la infancia, cuya mirada le quita dramatismo a este acontecimiento donde los adultos sufren, pero, esto no significa que los niños no sientan ese dolor, solo que la vida que bulle en ellos los hace distanciarse del drama. Es un cuento duro por cómo lo cuenta la autora, no es doloroso en su sentido más trágico.
8. El día de la mariposa: en este cuento vuelve a haber una niña enfrentada a las injusticias de la vida, en este caso, enfrentada a una compañera de clase que no es tan afortunada, que no forma parte de del grupo de las populares. Hay un instante de amistad entre ella y la menos afortunada, un breve momento de conexión…
9. Chicos y chicas: Puede que sea el cuento más impactante, el mejor cuento de esta colección. La niña podría ser la misma niña del primer cuento. El vaquero de Walkers Brothers, y del tercer cuento, Imágenes. La infancia enfrentada a la vida adulta, en toda su dureza, pero también en toda su naturalidad, la vejez, la muerte. Cuento magistral.
10. Postal: Uno de esos relatos típicos de Alice Munro que en cuanto lo terminas, te tienes que ir al principio de nuevo a buscar un dato al que no le habías prestado atención y que puede esclarecer mucho en una historia contada casi entrelíneas. El giro casi en el segundo tercio de la historia es como una explosión que te hace conocer de verdad a su protagonista, Helen. Un cuento para releer.
11. El vestido rojo, 1946: Una adolescente enfrentada a su primer baile en el instituto, con todo lo que esto significa en una edad donde no se encaja en ninguna parte. El eterno conflicto entre encajar y hacer lo que hacen todos o nadar contra corriente y rebelarse, es a lo que se enfenta en un momento dado la chica. Relato contado en primera persona, muy munroniano.
"12. Domingo por la tarde: Alva trabaja de sirvienta para los Gannett, es muy joven y probablemente sea su primer empleo. Alice Munro explora las diferencias de clase y la hipocresía en torno a las apariencias, al mismo tiempo que somos testigos de cómo Alva es consciente del hecho de que no es una igual, aunque intente engañarse al respecto. La simbologia del delantal que debe cambiarse es su realidad del día a día.
"No os vayáis a creer que me siento sola y pisoteada y todas esas cosas que les pasan a las sirvientas. No permitiría que nadie se pasara de la raya. Aparte de que no soy una sirvienta, en realidad, es solo un trabajo de verano. No me siento sola ¿por qué iba a sentirme así? Simplemente observo y siento interés. Madre, por supuesto que no puedo comer con ellos. No seas ridícula. Y además, prefiero comer sola."
13. Un viaje a la costa: Un cuento que puede que no esté a la altura del resto, pero cuyo final permanece y deja marca, y dentro de que es un final donde la vida se presenta en todo su poderío, tiene además un tono de humor soterrado que lo hace brillante. En estos cuentos de los inicios la elipsis no estaba todavía tan presente, pero así y todo el enigma de la vida sí que aparece en cada línea.
14. La Paz de Utrecht: El cuento que definirá lo que vendrá después, cuando el texto de Alice Munro evolucione en capas y capas de significados entre lineas. Dos hermanas enfrentadas a un pasado; una se marchó y se liberó y la otra se quedó a cuidar de la madre. Cuando se reúnen de nuevo, la sensación que me produce el relato es que no se puede narrar mejor lo que es la vida en los pequeños detalles…
15. Danza de las sombras: De nuevo un cuento sobre las apariencias y sobre la hipocresía en algunas fiestas de cara a la galeria. La protagonista, una adolescente, es casi inconscientemente la observadora de cómo su madre se comporta injustamente adoptando una pose de superioridad. El final me ha recordado muchísimo al relato de James Joyce, "Los Muertos". Broche de oro para una colección de relatos maravillosos. La traducción es de Eugenia Vázquez Nacarino.
"-Está llorando.
-Dejémoslo -zanjó mi padre. Y con resignación, incluso de buen humor, pronunció las palabras que me absolvían y me excluían para siempre-. Es solo una chica."
https://kansasbooks.blogspot.com/2022...
"Finjo recordar mucho menos de lo que en realidad recuerdo, por miedo a quedar atrapada en la nostalgia o emociones que no deseo."
“Danza de las sombras” (Dance of the Happy Shades) fue la primera colección de cuentos de Alice Munro que se publicó en 1968 y que hasta ahora había permanecido inédito en España. Se hace raro volver a los inicios de una autora de la que me lo he leído casi todo, y digo que se hace raro porque aquí en estos primeros relatos todavía no había madurado del todo, o por lo menos, no se había liberado de algunas formas de las que luego se liberó convirtiéndose en una autora única e inigualable. Aqui en estos quince relatos todavía no están muy desarrolladas sus famosas elipsis y en general son cuentos que se destacan por ser relatos por mujeres, niñas, adolescentes, que viven normalmente en una zona rural y de alguna forma son conscientes que no encajan, se asfixian y quizá sueñen con alejarse de este mundo cerrado de apariencias. Son cuentos donde Alice Munro elabora un argumento más o menos convencional si lo comparamos a su trabajo posterior, y así y todo son unos cuentos magníficos. Quizá alguien que se acerque por primera vez al trabajo de Alice Munro pueda pensar que en sus historias no pase nada, o por lo menos nada extraordinario… ¿pero no es ya suficientemente extraordinario el día a día, batallar con ciertas emociones y/o liberarse de ciertas cadenas?? Pues eso, que en los cuentos de Alice Munro pasan continuamente cosas extraordinarias pero sin algarabías, en lo más íntimo.
"En cuanto a mí, aprovechaba el momento quizá más perfecto e íntimo del día, me arropaba bien y retomaba alguna de las historias que me inventaba cada noche. Eran historias protagonizadas por mí, solo que un poco más mayor, y transcurrían en un mundo reconocible, pero donde se presentaban oportunidades para demostrar valor, audacia y sacrificio que en el mío nunca surgían."
A continuación algunas reflexiones en torno a estos cuentos mientras los leía:
1.El vaquero de Walkers Brothers: Llevo todo el día dándole vueltas a este cuento, maravilloso. El punto de vista es el de una niña que por primera vez parece ser consciente de la realidad de la vida a través de sus padres, el primer paso de consciencia de adulta. Un incidente durante una salida con su padre, quizá la haga darse cuenta de que su padre añora algo del pasado, y que su madre no sea felíz. Maravilla.
2. Las casas flamantes: La modernidad enfrentada a la destrucción de lo antiguo. Una nueva urbanización de casas igualitas unas a otras, y en medio, la casa vieja de la señora Fullerton, con sus gallinas y su jardín salvaje. La obsesión por las apariencias, por jugar a parecerse a los ricos, a través del simbolo de sus casas, pone sobre el tapete la hipocresía de la sociedad en la que vivimos. Lúcida Munro.
3. Imágenes: De nuevo tenemos aquí a una narradora en la forma de una niña que va explorando el mundo a través de sus mayores. Su madre está enferma y la cuida la enfermera de la familia, Mary, un agente externo que ha venido a hacer cambios en su casa. Por otra parte, el incidente al principio del relato, en el bosque me parece magnífico, por la forma en que se manifiesta lo desconocido y el misterio para esta niña.
4. Gracias por el paseo: De las pocas veces, quizá la única en la que el narrador en un relato de la Munro es masculino. Dos chicos que llegan a un pueblo desconocido conocen a dos chicas, quieren pasar el rato, sin embargo, aunque el protagonismo parece ejercido por ellos, son ellas, sobre todo Lois, quien llevarán el control de la narración y quien dejará huella en la historia.
"-¿A qué es gracioso?- dijo - Las chicas se pasan todo el invierno hablando del último verano, hablan y hablan de esos tipos, y te apuesto lo que quieras a que ellos no se acuerdan ni de cómo se llaman..."
5. El Despacho: En este cuento Alice Munro hace un homenaje a Virginia Woolf y su habitación propia. La narradora es una escritora que alquila una habitación para poder escribir fuera del ámbito doméstico, un respiro de unas pocas horas a la semana. Alice Munro, sin aspavientos, y con coherencia, relata lo difícil que es para una ama de casa con hijos, encontrar un remanso de paz. Relato autobiográfico sí o sí.
"- Como tampoco es normal que una mujer joven, que dice estar casada y con hijos, se pase las horas escribiendo a máquina como una posesa.
(...)
- Y una cosa más: afirma ser escritora. Pues verá, leo bastante y nunca he visto su nombre impreso."
6. Mejor el remedio: Un relato sobre el primer amor, la primera decepción y de paso, la primera borrachera. Un cuento muy lúcido sobre una adolescente que quería morirse pero por poco tiempo... pronto su vida se llenó con otras cosas. Mientras tanto la Munro hace un esbozo sobre la vida familiar y sobre la angustia adolescente, apenas en dos trazos.
7. La hora de la muerte: uno de esos cuentos donde la protagonista es la muerte, pero también la infancia, cuya mirada le quita dramatismo a este acontecimiento donde los adultos sufren, pero, esto no significa que los niños no sientan ese dolor, solo que la vida que bulle en ellos los hace distanciarse del drama. Es un cuento duro por cómo lo cuenta la autora, no es doloroso en su sentido más trágico.
8. El día de la mariposa: en este cuento vuelve a haber una niña enfrentada a las injusticias de la vida, en este caso, enfrentada a una compañera de clase que no es tan afortunada, que no forma parte de del grupo de las populares. Hay un instante de amistad entre ella y la menos afortunada, un breve momento de conexión…
9. Chicos y chicas: Puede que sea el cuento más impactante, el mejor cuento de esta colección. La niña podría ser la misma niña del primer cuento. El vaquero de Walkers Brothers, y del tercer cuento, Imágenes. La infancia enfrentada a la vida adulta, en toda su dureza, pero también en toda su naturalidad, la vejez, la muerte. Cuento magistral.
10. Postal: Uno de esos relatos típicos de Alice Munro que en cuanto lo terminas, te tienes que ir al principio de nuevo a buscar un dato al que no le habías prestado atención y que puede esclarecer mucho en una historia contada casi entrelíneas. El giro casi en el segundo tercio de la historia es como una explosión que te hace conocer de verdad a su protagonista, Helen. Un cuento para releer.
11. El vestido rojo, 1946: Una adolescente enfrentada a su primer baile en el instituto, con todo lo que esto significa en una edad donde no se encaja en ninguna parte. El eterno conflicto entre encajar y hacer lo que hacen todos o nadar contra corriente y rebelarse, es a lo que se enfenta en un momento dado la chica. Relato contado en primera persona, muy munroniano.
"12. Domingo por la tarde: Alva trabaja de sirvienta para los Gannett, es muy joven y probablemente sea su primer empleo. Alice Munro explora las diferencias de clase y la hipocresía en torno a las apariencias, al mismo tiempo que somos testigos de cómo Alva es consciente del hecho de que no es una igual, aunque intente engañarse al respecto. La simbologia del delantal que debe cambiarse es su realidad del día a día.
"No os vayáis a creer que me siento sola y pisoteada y todas esas cosas que les pasan a las sirvientas. No permitiría que nadie se pasara de la raya. Aparte de que no soy una sirvienta, en realidad, es solo un trabajo de verano. No me siento sola ¿por qué iba a sentirme así? Simplemente observo y siento interés. Madre, por supuesto que no puedo comer con ellos. No seas ridícula. Y además, prefiero comer sola."
13. Un viaje a la costa: Un cuento que puede que no esté a la altura del resto, pero cuyo final permanece y deja marca, y dentro de que es un final donde la vida se presenta en todo su poderío, tiene además un tono de humor soterrado que lo hace brillante. En estos cuentos de los inicios la elipsis no estaba todavía tan presente, pero así y todo el enigma de la vida sí que aparece en cada línea.
14. La Paz de Utrecht: El cuento que definirá lo que vendrá después, cuando el texto de Alice Munro evolucione en capas y capas de significados entre lineas. Dos hermanas enfrentadas a un pasado; una se marchó y se liberó y la otra se quedó a cuidar de la madre. Cuando se reúnen de nuevo, la sensación que me produce el relato es que no se puede narrar mejor lo que es la vida en los pequeños detalles…
15. Danza de las sombras: De nuevo un cuento sobre las apariencias y sobre la hipocresía en algunas fiestas de cara a la galeria. La protagonista, una adolescente, es casi inconscientemente la observadora de cómo su madre se comporta injustamente adoptando una pose de superioridad. El final me ha recordado muchísimo al relato de James Joyce, "Los Muertos". Broche de oro para una colección de relatos maravillosos. La traducción es de Eugenia Vázquez Nacarino.
"-Está llorando.
-Dejémoslo -zanjó mi padre. Y con resignación, incluso de buen humor, pronunció las palabras que me absolvían y me excluían para siempre-. Es solo una chica."
https://kansasbooks.blogspot.com/2022...
August 20, 2012
Intro (this piece inspired the title story): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0BN7TG...
Does anyone remember Steve’s review of Lydia Davis’s “Collected Stories” when he said “Lydia Davis shits out tiny nuggets of pure golden prose and says 'oh, this old thing’'?”I didn’t exactly agree with him on the Lydia Davis front, but I would love to steal that quote and use it in reference to Alice Munro.
Alice Munro is a master story teller. No, she didn’t twist my brain into knots and exasperate me. No, she didn’t leave me tingling from titillating tales. She didn’t make my soul sink into some dark place. She simply tells great stories.
I had been unfamiliar with Alice Munro prior to my Summer of Women read-a-thon. Dance of the Happy Shades is her first collection of short stories (Goodreads, it is NOT her 8th collection) and is the winner of the Governor General’s Award (a big deal up there in Canada). Alice Munro has been touted as the greatest living short story writer.
If not for the words containing a superfluous ‘u’ here and there (colourful, flavourful), I would have been convinced Munro was writing about the American south. In fact, her writing reminded me a bit of Flannery O’Connor as she expertly explored the life of the “every (wo)man.”
This is such a heartfelt collection and I’m so happy to have stumbled upon it. It was one of those serendipitous moments: days before I saw it in the two dollar bin at the book store, Steve recommended I try some Alice Munro. Don’t you love those happy little coincidences?
"She sat with her legs folded under her looking out at the road where she might walk now in any direction she liked, and the world which lay flat and accessible and full of silence in front of her." (from A Trip To the Coast)
Outro: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=djiuAT...
January 24, 2022
I like reading and re-reading the first books of the writers I love. They have a certain charm, and an indication of the origins from which their later works flow. They also show the early point of recurring themes, revisited places, and an overall sense of development achieved when compared to the works that followed.
All of these short stories are set in small towns which resemble Munro's hometown of Wingham, Ontario. It was clear while reading these stories that a lot of the material is drawn from memory. An interesting fact I learned about two days ago is that these stories are responsible for seven decades worth of hostility. Elements of a story matching with certain real life events that involve a tragic death, as well as people of the town feeling that characters in the book were actual people who lived in Wingham and who, according to them, were depicted in an unsavoury light, are to blame. The hostility was so great that threats of bodily harm against Munro had her seek protection from the town police when she visited her hometown for a literary festival. Her town accepts her more warmly now, and that she won a Nobel might have something to do with it.
This would be a good place for someone who hasn't read Munro. Not only because these are good stories, but also because the only place to go from here is up as the writing becomes richer, more complex, and more refined with the later works.
All of these short stories are set in small towns which resemble Munro's hometown of Wingham, Ontario. It was clear while reading these stories that a lot of the material is drawn from memory. An interesting fact I learned about two days ago is that these stories are responsible for seven decades worth of hostility. Elements of a story matching with certain real life events that involve a tragic death, as well as people of the town feeling that characters in the book were actual people who lived in Wingham and who, according to them, were depicted in an unsavoury light, are to blame. The hostility was so great that threats of bodily harm against Munro had her seek protection from the town police when she visited her hometown for a literary festival. Her town accepts her more warmly now, and that she won a Nobel might have something to do with it.
This would be a good place for someone who hasn't read Munro. Not only because these are good stories, but also because the only place to go from here is up as the writing becomes richer, more complex, and more refined with the later works.
November 13, 2025
El día que murió Alice Munro estuve a punto de llorar.
No era una época fácil para mí y sentía que la muerte de una de mis escritoras favoritas, autora que llevaba años sin publicar, que tenía alzheimer y que poco después su propia hija desveló que ocultó los abusos que su marido perpetró contra ella, era la gota que colmaba el vaso, una señal de que todo iba y seguiría yendo mal.
La literatura no cura, pero acompaña. Y las historias de Alice Munro, con todas sus contradicciones, me cogieron de la mano siendo muy joven y estando muy triste y no me la soltaron nunca, aunque las circunstancias cambien.
Hace poco escuché a Elvira Lindo decir que la mejor manera de leer a Alice Munro era ir leyendo su obra según coincidiera tu edad con la edad con la que ella escribió cada una de sus colecciones de relatos. Puede estar bien, pero solo las generaciones más mayores podrían aprovecharse de ese sistema cronológico: Munro tardó una década (de los veintimuchos a los treintaimuchos) en escribir “Danza de las sombras”, la primera de sus obras, cuentos que escribía en lo que duraba la siesta de sus hijos.
Fue la biología la que hizo que Alice Munro escribiera cuentos y no novelas y que se convirtiera en una de las mejores (si no la mejor) “cuentistas” contemporáneas (La Chejov canadiense y todas esas movidas que dicen los críticos, que él fuera el Munro ruso es inconcebible). Benditas siestas.
Todas sus historias tienen cierto halo de tristeza. Es una memoria alejada de la nostalgia, en la que las historias de niñas preocupadas por ser felices, como si eso fuera una obligación y no un camino, se abren paso en las vidas complejas de los adultos de aquellos fríos páramos.
Estos primeros cuentos son todos formalmente correctos, temáticamente unos funcionan mejor que otros, pero es innegable que el genio que llevaba tres décadas cultivándose ya estaba presente desde el principio. Es difícil leer un cuento y, me imagino, es más difícil todavía escribir un cuento. Y ella sabía hacerlo desde el principio.
Tal vez la primera de todas las historias que escribió “El día de la mariposa” sea mi favorita del libro.
Unas historias llenas de huecos y de silencios que el lector tiene que rellenar, que expanden casi hasta el infinito la historia, porque en el aparente realismo plano se esconde mucha técnica y, en ocasiones, mucha mala uva; son lo más interesante. Aquellos secretos que solo conocía la autora y que se acabaron volviendo en su contra.
El día que murió Alice Munro estuve a punto de llorar, pero ahora veo que tal vez en vez de tristeza, fueran lágrimas de gratitud.
No era una época fácil para mí y sentía que la muerte de una de mis escritoras favoritas, autora que llevaba años sin publicar, que tenía alzheimer y que poco después su propia hija desveló que ocultó los abusos que su marido perpetró contra ella, era la gota que colmaba el vaso, una señal de que todo iba y seguiría yendo mal.
La literatura no cura, pero acompaña. Y las historias de Alice Munro, con todas sus contradicciones, me cogieron de la mano siendo muy joven y estando muy triste y no me la soltaron nunca, aunque las circunstancias cambien.
Hace poco escuché a Elvira Lindo decir que la mejor manera de leer a Alice Munro era ir leyendo su obra según coincidiera tu edad con la edad con la que ella escribió cada una de sus colecciones de relatos. Puede estar bien, pero solo las generaciones más mayores podrían aprovecharse de ese sistema cronológico: Munro tardó una década (de los veintimuchos a los treintaimuchos) en escribir “Danza de las sombras”, la primera de sus obras, cuentos que escribía en lo que duraba la siesta de sus hijos.
Fue la biología la que hizo que Alice Munro escribiera cuentos y no novelas y que se convirtiera en una de las mejores (si no la mejor) “cuentistas” contemporáneas (La Chejov canadiense y todas esas movidas que dicen los críticos, que él fuera el Munro ruso es inconcebible). Benditas siestas.
Todas sus historias tienen cierto halo de tristeza. Es una memoria alejada de la nostalgia, en la que las historias de niñas preocupadas por ser felices, como si eso fuera una obligación y no un camino, se abren paso en las vidas complejas de los adultos de aquellos fríos páramos.
Estos primeros cuentos son todos formalmente correctos, temáticamente unos funcionan mejor que otros, pero es innegable que el genio que llevaba tres décadas cultivándose ya estaba presente desde el principio. Es difícil leer un cuento y, me imagino, es más difícil todavía escribir un cuento. Y ella sabía hacerlo desde el principio.
Tal vez la primera de todas las historias que escribió “El día de la mariposa” sea mi favorita del libro.
Unas historias llenas de huecos y de silencios que el lector tiene que rellenar, que expanden casi hasta el infinito la historia, porque en el aparente realismo plano se esconde mucha técnica y, en ocasiones, mucha mala uva; son lo más interesante. Aquellos secretos que solo conocía la autora y que se acabaron volviendo en su contra.
El día que murió Alice Munro estuve a punto de llorar, pero ahora veo que tal vez en vez de tristeza, fueran lágrimas de gratitud.
March 1, 2013
Dance of the Happy Shades by Alice Munro
I really liked this book.
I liked it a LOT.
Ok… I loved it!
I’ve been meaning to read work by Alice Munro for a while so when I found a second hand copy of Dance of the Happy Shades for a few dollars, I picked it up.
This book is a Governor General’s Award winning collection of short stories.
The following quote by Hugh Garner in the forward to this book, pretty much, in my opinion, describes the quality and essence of Ms. Munro’s writing.
“The second-rate writers, the writers manques, the professional-commerical writers, find it impossible to write about ordinary people in ordinary situations, living ordinary lives, and make the people, their lives and their situations not only plausible and pleasurable but artistically alive. Hence their reliance on the grotesque, the far-out theme, the “different” or snob character, and the exotic or non-existent locale. The literary artist, on the other hand, uses people we all know, situations which are familiar to us and places we know or remember.”
In this collection, Alice Munro does an amazing job of telling stories of ordinary people in ordinary situations who seem very real and often remind you of someone you know - family, friends, even yourself. Many of the stories are sad, some make you angry, others will have you nodding your head, “yup… I know someone like that”. What they all have in common is beautifully detailed descriptions that paint visual images in your mind.
In The Shining Houses a new subdivision is being built in an old area of town creating a divide between the old and the new. New homes filled with young families and perfect lawns sit across the road from very old, original farmhouses, dilapidated yet still occupied. I see this situation a lot where I live because home construction is booming and spreading to the countryside. These young, upscale suburbanites do not appreciate the view from their front windows and agree to try enforcing laws to have the old farmhouses bulldozed by the town.
In The Office a married woman with children rents office space above a store where she can write her novel in peace and quiet, away from the normal bustle of her home. Unfortunately, the landlord constantly pesters her creating more frustration and annoyance than she would have experienced at home.
An Ounce of Cure is a story about a young babysitter who is left in charge of sleeping children while the parents and their friends go out for the night. Helen is from a family which doesn’t drink alcohol so when she sees bottles sitting on the counter, she becomes curious and experiments with mixing drinks. Disaster results.
The time of Death is a very, very sad story. A poor family loses their youngest child due to an unfortunate accident. There is kindness shown by friends and neighbours towards the mother while the reaction of the eldest daughter, who was responsible for the incident, is strangely inappropriate.
Dance of the Happy Shades is my favourite story. The piano teacher reminds me exactly of my husband’s piano teacher. She is quite elderly and continues to teach and hold recitals that nobody really wants to attend. But… she is a wonderful lady who is kind to everyone. Parents of children she teaches, sadly, don’t see her that way and are frustrated having to attend the recitals. When developmentally challenged children attend the latest recital, mothers in attendance are shocked that she would invite these kids to play. Play they do… very beautifully, leaving those in attendance mesmerized by the music.
Alice Munroe had this book published in 1968 and continues to write today. I look forward to reading more of her stories.
I really liked this book.
I liked it a LOT.
Ok… I loved it!
I’ve been meaning to read work by Alice Munro for a while so when I found a second hand copy of Dance of the Happy Shades for a few dollars, I picked it up.
This book is a Governor General’s Award winning collection of short stories.
The following quote by Hugh Garner in the forward to this book, pretty much, in my opinion, describes the quality and essence of Ms. Munro’s writing.
“The second-rate writers, the writers manques, the professional-commerical writers, find it impossible to write about ordinary people in ordinary situations, living ordinary lives, and make the people, their lives and their situations not only plausible and pleasurable but artistically alive. Hence their reliance on the grotesque, the far-out theme, the “different” or snob character, and the exotic or non-existent locale. The literary artist, on the other hand, uses people we all know, situations which are familiar to us and places we know or remember.”
In this collection, Alice Munro does an amazing job of telling stories of ordinary people in ordinary situations who seem very real and often remind you of someone you know - family, friends, even yourself. Many of the stories are sad, some make you angry, others will have you nodding your head, “yup… I know someone like that”. What they all have in common is beautifully detailed descriptions that paint visual images in your mind.
In The Shining Houses a new subdivision is being built in an old area of town creating a divide between the old and the new. New homes filled with young families and perfect lawns sit across the road from very old, original farmhouses, dilapidated yet still occupied. I see this situation a lot where I live because home construction is booming and spreading to the countryside. These young, upscale suburbanites do not appreciate the view from their front windows and agree to try enforcing laws to have the old farmhouses bulldozed by the town.
In The Office a married woman with children rents office space above a store where she can write her novel in peace and quiet, away from the normal bustle of her home. Unfortunately, the landlord constantly pesters her creating more frustration and annoyance than she would have experienced at home.
An Ounce of Cure is a story about a young babysitter who is left in charge of sleeping children while the parents and their friends go out for the night. Helen is from a family which doesn’t drink alcohol so when she sees bottles sitting on the counter, she becomes curious and experiments with mixing drinks. Disaster results.
The time of Death is a very, very sad story. A poor family loses their youngest child due to an unfortunate accident. There is kindness shown by friends and neighbours towards the mother while the reaction of the eldest daughter, who was responsible for the incident, is strangely inappropriate.
Dance of the Happy Shades is my favourite story. The piano teacher reminds me exactly of my husband’s piano teacher. She is quite elderly and continues to teach and hold recitals that nobody really wants to attend. But… she is a wonderful lady who is kind to everyone. Parents of children she teaches, sadly, don’t see her that way and are frustrated having to attend the recitals. When developmentally challenged children attend the latest recital, mothers in attendance are shocked that she would invite these kids to play. Play they do… very beautifully, leaving those in attendance mesmerized by the music.
Alice Munroe had this book published in 1968 and continues to write today. I look forward to reading more of her stories.
Read
November 15, 2022Guau, cuantísimo he disfrutado con esta hermosísima primera colección de relatos de Alice Munro. Me han parecido de una delicadeza, una intimidad y una hermosura fascinantes.
Es un libro sobre primeras veces (primeras amistades, amores, despedidas, actos de empoderamiento…) y transcurre en un universo rural y aún algo inocente que parece estar a punto de ser engullido por la modernidad.
Munro ha conseguido trasladarme a un universo que no conozco: al que la rodeó durante su crianza, pero también al de su propia visión del mundo. Y me ha hipnotizado con cómo disecciona a las personas y a las cosas que le rodean.
Ha sido cerrar este libro y abrir su ¿novela? «La vida de las mujeres». Bravo.
Es un libro sobre primeras veces (primeras amistades, amores, despedidas, actos de empoderamiento…) y transcurre en un universo rural y aún algo inocente que parece estar a punto de ser engullido por la modernidad.
Munro ha conseguido trasladarme a un universo que no conozco: al que la rodeó durante su crianza, pero también al de su propia visión del mundo. Y me ha hipnotizado con cómo disecciona a las personas y a las cosas que le rodean.
Ha sido cerrar este libro y abrir su ¿novela? «La vida de las mujeres». Bravo.
October 31, 2022
Vannak írók, akik zsenialitása kirobbanásokban mutatkozik meg. Aztán vannak írók, akiknek a zsenialitása maga a stílus, amit felépítettek maguknak. Utóbbiakról marha nehéz értékelést írni, hisz a negyedik kötetnél már unalmas megint ugyanazokat a jelzőket puffogtatni - de hát mit csináljunk, ha egyszer az író nem hajlandó változni? Ha mindig kábé ugyanúgy zseniális, és magasról tesz rá, hogy az értékelő viszont szeretné változatos értékelésekkel bizgerálni figyelői idegvégződéseit?
Na, Munro ilyen író. Ha kinyitok egy Munro-kötetet, akkor tudom, mit fogok kapni, valahogy úgy, ahogy egy kád jó forró vízbe merülvén is előre tudom, hogy alighanem egy kellemesen nedves és ellazító érzésben lesz részem, nem pedig száraz és drámai tapasztalatban. A Munro-titoknak persze sok eleme van, és ezek váltakozó intenzitással gondoskodnak az elbeszélések erejéről, de általában véve van bennük valami félreismerhetetlenül közös: a tér meddő tágassága, az idő lustasága, valamint az emberi kapcsolatokra való érzékenység. E novellák mélyén azonban mindig ott lapul az a paradoxon, ami a fényképalbumokra jellemző: hogy képeik mozdulatlan, örökkévalóságba zárt jeleneteknek látszanak, de pont fénykép-voltuk tanúskodik arról, hogy visszafordíthatatlanul elnyelte őket az elmúlás. És bár a szereplők vonásai alkalmasint éles kontúrokkal vannak megörökítve, és a végtelenségig tanulmányozhatóak, mégsem tudhatunk meg rólunk semmi biztosat.
(Azért nem ez a legjobb Munro-kötet. Nekem hiányzott az elbeszélések többségéből az a novellákon belüli játék az idősíkokkal, ami a szerző kisprózáiban olyan fantasztikus távlatokat képes nyitni. Mondhatni, ez a Munro-kötet kissé konvencionálisabb a többinél. De mivel Munro mindig zseniális, nála még a nem olyan jó is nagyon jó.)
Na, Munro ilyen író. Ha kinyitok egy Munro-kötetet, akkor tudom, mit fogok kapni, valahogy úgy, ahogy egy kád jó forró vízbe merülvén is előre tudom, hogy alighanem egy kellemesen nedves és ellazító érzésben lesz részem, nem pedig száraz és drámai tapasztalatban. A Munro-titoknak persze sok eleme van, és ezek váltakozó intenzitással gondoskodnak az elbeszélések erejéről, de általában véve van bennük valami félreismerhetetlenül közös: a tér meddő tágassága, az idő lustasága, valamint az emberi kapcsolatokra való érzékenység. E novellák mélyén azonban mindig ott lapul az a paradoxon, ami a fényképalbumokra jellemző: hogy képeik mozdulatlan, örökkévalóságba zárt jeleneteknek látszanak, de pont fénykép-voltuk tanúskodik arról, hogy visszafordíthatatlanul elnyelte őket az elmúlás. És bár a szereplők vonásai alkalmasint éles kontúrokkal vannak megörökítve, és a végtelenségig tanulmányozhatóak, mégsem tudhatunk meg rólunk semmi biztosat.
(Azért nem ez a legjobb Munro-kötet. Nekem hiányzott az elbeszélések többségéből az a novellákon belüli játék az idősíkokkal, ami a szerző kisprózáiban olyan fantasztikus távlatokat képes nyitni. Mondhatni, ez a Munro-kötet kissé konvencionálisabb a többinél. De mivel Munro mindig zseniális, nála még a nem olyan jó is nagyon jó.)
January 2, 2017
Many words far better than the ones which I can put together into a sentence have been said about Alice Munro’s extraordinary talent. Many of those words have been directed at this book, her first collection of stories, and how remarkable it is for being a first collection of stories. Having read it one wonders why there haven’t been more words devoted to it or its author, why she, unfortunately, remains hidden away from most readers for no reason other than her chosen form. Alice Munro is a wonder, a treasure, the best living writer in the English language.
I read her books slowly, as I do with most short story collections, picking up stories and then putting the book down for a week or maybe longer at a time, and so I often spend four or five or six months reading the same collection. With other authors this doesn’t work, it seems, breathing so much between the stories, but with Munro it is the only way I can steal away enough determination to make it through her work. One doesn’t steal away determination for Munro because they are unpleasurable - in fact, I often want to read many of her stories back to back and force myself to put her work down, because you don’t rush your way through Munro anymore than you would rush your way through Beckett - but because they require attention. Not an inordinate amount, the magic of Munro being that the stuff happens and develops without the reader knowing it, but enough that you can’t half-ass your way through her stories.
But everything you give to Munro she gives back to you many times over. I read several of the stories in this collection many times, and with each reading I acquired a new and deeper understanding of her art, her characters, the fine, precise shaping of their humanity and surroundings. I would start stories, put them down feeling I couldn’t handle the tension, pick them up and in the first paragraphs discover some new sorcery, and both the first reading and the second would be startled by the end result of the story. And I would be quite unexpectedly weakened by that end results at times. The Office, for example, left me wandering the streets of Colombia for a few days with some inexplicable weariness, almost crying for a moment or two without realizing that I was almost crying for a moment or two. The Peace of Urtecht made me wonder at the borders of independence of servitude in family life. Images and Walker Brothers Cowboy made me wonder at the unknown and unknowable aspects of the world around us. Boy and Girls, have you read Boy and Girls?, because Boys and Girls is perhaps the greatest short story I have ever read about a young person confronting reality - which is, I suppose her central theme, the human spirit confronting and contorting their self to the demands of a unrelenting and unforgiving reality.
There are some astonishing classics here, as there are in any book by Munro, but here, as they often are with Munro, the stories are relentless in their consistent quality, hence why I needed space between them to recuperate and breathe. Red Dress-1946, Postcard, Sunday Afternoon, Dance of the Happy Shades, The Shining Houses. You could name nearly every single story in this collection and recommend it as a stellar example in the art of crafting and shaping literature.
Unfortunately, Munro has retired from writing, and so I don’t anticipate receiving any more of her wisdom in the coming years, and I wonder if she will allow her family to release the unreleased after she passes. Fortunately, I have enough books by her to keep me thrilled to read for years to come. Damn near too many, perhaps. I float in a sea of riches, or I drown in them; either way I am, with Munro, in a rare state of admiration and euphoria. Read this book, or any of her books, especially if you don’t like short stories, and especially if you like short stories.
I read her books slowly, as I do with most short story collections, picking up stories and then putting the book down for a week or maybe longer at a time, and so I often spend four or five or six months reading the same collection. With other authors this doesn’t work, it seems, breathing so much between the stories, but with Munro it is the only way I can steal away enough determination to make it through her work. One doesn’t steal away determination for Munro because they are unpleasurable - in fact, I often want to read many of her stories back to back and force myself to put her work down, because you don’t rush your way through Munro anymore than you would rush your way through Beckett - but because they require attention. Not an inordinate amount, the magic of Munro being that the stuff happens and develops without the reader knowing it, but enough that you can’t half-ass your way through her stories.
But everything you give to Munro she gives back to you many times over. I read several of the stories in this collection many times, and with each reading I acquired a new and deeper understanding of her art, her characters, the fine, precise shaping of their humanity and surroundings. I would start stories, put them down feeling I couldn’t handle the tension, pick them up and in the first paragraphs discover some new sorcery, and both the first reading and the second would be startled by the end result of the story. And I would be quite unexpectedly weakened by that end results at times. The Office, for example, left me wandering the streets of Colombia for a few days with some inexplicable weariness, almost crying for a moment or two without realizing that I was almost crying for a moment or two. The Peace of Urtecht made me wonder at the borders of independence of servitude in family life. Images and Walker Brothers Cowboy made me wonder at the unknown and unknowable aspects of the world around us. Boy and Girls, have you read Boy and Girls?, because Boys and Girls is perhaps the greatest short story I have ever read about a young person confronting reality - which is, I suppose her central theme, the human spirit confronting and contorting their self to the demands of a unrelenting and unforgiving reality.
There are some astonishing classics here, as there are in any book by Munro, but here, as they often are with Munro, the stories are relentless in their consistent quality, hence why I needed space between them to recuperate and breathe. Red Dress-1946, Postcard, Sunday Afternoon, Dance of the Happy Shades, The Shining Houses. You could name nearly every single story in this collection and recommend it as a stellar example in the art of crafting and shaping literature.
Unfortunately, Munro has retired from writing, and so I don’t anticipate receiving any more of her wisdom in the coming years, and I wonder if she will allow her family to release the unreleased after she passes. Fortunately, I have enough books by her to keep me thrilled to read for years to come. Damn near too many, perhaps. I float in a sea of riches, or I drown in them; either way I am, with Munro, in a rare state of admiration and euphoria. Read this book, or any of her books, especially if you don’t like short stories, and especially if you like short stories.
July 15, 2024
"Utrehtski mir" zaslužuje čistu desetku od mene. I ostale priče su jako lijepe ali ova me baš pogodila.
September 27, 2023
I just want to say that Alice Munro really hit me with this collection of short stories. I’ve read and enjoyed a few here and there over the years, but this time it was like something just clicked, and by the end of each story, I couldn’t wait to know how the next story was going to be like (does this sound like an addiction?).
Anyway, the most impressive thing about this debut (published in 1968) is the fact that it doesn’t seem like a debut, at all.
As it usually happens when I read Alice Munro, I felt like her writing asked for some attention - not a lot though, just enough to make sure the reader would sometimes have to stop and think about what he just read (this is definitely not a playground!).
I’ll also have to say, probably because these stories are so good but deceptively simple, I find it especially difficult to review them, so I’m just going to leave a little passage here to let the world know how I like my writing. Ah! Here it goes, from page two of story number five, The Office, I’ll leave you with a perfect example of how masterfully Alice Munro sets the tone of a story and the actual setting, while developing the character at the same time, and all in just a few sentences:
At certain times, perhaps on long spring evenings, still rainy and sad, with the cold bulbs in bloom and a light too mild for promise drifting over the sea, I have opened the windows and felt the house shrink back into wood and plaster and those humble elements of which it is made, and felt the life in it subside, leaving me exposed, empty-handed, but feeling a fierce and lawless quiver of freedom, of loneliness too harsh and perfect for me now to bear. Then I know how the rest of the time I am sheltered and encumbered, how insistently I am warmed and bound.
You’re welcome.
Anyway, the most impressive thing about this debut (published in 1968) is the fact that it doesn’t seem like a debut, at all.
As it usually happens when I read Alice Munro, I felt like her writing asked for some attention - not a lot though, just enough to make sure the reader would sometimes have to stop and think about what he just read (this is definitely not a playground!).
I’ll also have to say, probably because these stories are so good but deceptively simple, I find it especially difficult to review them, so I’m just going to leave a little passage here to let the world know how I like my writing. Ah! Here it goes, from page two of story number five, The Office, I’ll leave you with a perfect example of how masterfully Alice Munro sets the tone of a story and the actual setting, while developing the character at the same time, and all in just a few sentences:
At certain times, perhaps on long spring evenings, still rainy and sad, with the cold bulbs in bloom and a light too mild for promise drifting over the sea, I have opened the windows and felt the house shrink back into wood and plaster and those humble elements of which it is made, and felt the life in it subside, leaving me exposed, empty-handed, but feeling a fierce and lawless quiver of freedom, of loneliness too harsh and perfect for me now to bear. Then I know how the rest of the time I am sheltered and encumbered, how insistently I am warmed and bound.
You’re welcome.
August 29, 2025
Qué grata sorpresa ha sido volver a leer a Alice Munro después de mucho tiempo. Quedé fascinada con Demasiada felicidad y quería volver a ella, pero me mantuve alejada por un tiempo (por obvias razones). Al principio no estaba segura si este me iba a volar la cabeza, las primeras historias eran muy simples y confusas, pero a medida que iba pasando las páginas fue aumentando mi disfrute y el deleite por la escritura de Munro.
Son 15 historias que, aunque no parezca, siguen dentro de todo un hilo conductor que las une, no en tramas pero sí en temáticas y ambientaciones. Se pueden ver pequeños guiños y me gustó pensar que los personajes de cada una estaban más cerca de lo que uno esperaría. Narrados por mujeres en pequeños pueblos con dramas familiares y en situaciones que, al primer vistazo, parecen insignificantes, sin embargo ahí es donde encuentran su grandeza. Como dije, al comienzo no se entiende muy bien la dirección que toman pero los fui disfrutando al abarcarlos en una totalidad de comunidades y los pequeños infiernos que creamos en ellas.
Otra cosa que me sorprendió fue enterarme (después de haberlo terminado) de que se publicó en 1968 y fue su primer libro. Creo que lo que me impacta es sentir que, más allá de cualquier mención socio-cultural que pueda dar cuenta de la época de las historias, estas se sienten bastantes modernas. Sí, los personajes están condicionados por estos contextos, pero en esencia son muy atemporales y no tienen mucho que envidiarles a los más recientes de Demasiada felicidad, que se apartan casi ciencuenta años.
Mis favoritos fueron La hora de la muerte, Chicos y chicas, Postal, El vestido rojo, 1946 y La paz de Utrecht.
Son 15 historias que, aunque no parezca, siguen dentro de todo un hilo conductor que las une, no en tramas pero sí en temáticas y ambientaciones. Se pueden ver pequeños guiños y me gustó pensar que los personajes de cada una estaban más cerca de lo que uno esperaría. Narrados por mujeres en pequeños pueblos con dramas familiares y en situaciones que, al primer vistazo, parecen insignificantes, sin embargo ahí es donde encuentran su grandeza. Como dije, al comienzo no se entiende muy bien la dirección que toman pero los fui disfrutando al abarcarlos en una totalidad de comunidades y los pequeños infiernos que creamos en ellas.
Otra cosa que me sorprendió fue enterarme (después de haberlo terminado) de que se publicó en 1968 y fue su primer libro. Creo que lo que me impacta es sentir que, más allá de cualquier mención socio-cultural que pueda dar cuenta de la época de las historias, estas se sienten bastantes modernas. Sí, los personajes están condicionados por estos contextos, pero en esencia son muy atemporales y no tienen mucho que envidiarles a los más recientes de Demasiada felicidad, que se apartan casi ciencuenta años.
Mis favoritos fueron La hora de la muerte, Chicos y chicas, Postal, El vestido rojo, 1946 y La paz de Utrecht.
August 7, 2015
Con la Munro ritrovi un po' di te stessa, parti di te che credevi di avere perso, ma che improvvisamente emergono.
Nelle pagine di questa raccolta di racconti, la prima scritta dall'autrice e uscita nel 1968, vi sono immagini,sentimenti, luoghi e situazioni che fanno parte del corollario della Munro.
Sono racconti che parlano di noi, al nostro io, alla parte più intima e vera di ciascuno di noi, al nostro profondo svelandosi e svelandoci.
Ciò che sorprende dello stile di questa autrice è la semplicità, la straordinaria capacità di parlare, di raccontare e raccontarsi in modo chiaro, diretto, lineare arrivando diritto al cuore.
L'ultimo racconto "Danza delle ombre felici" che dà il titolo alla raccolta lascia amarezza, ma anche bellezza in chi si accinge a leggere queste pagine dense e piene di significato che raccontano chi siamo sotto ogni punto di vista.
Nelle pagine di questa raccolta di racconti, la prima scritta dall'autrice e uscita nel 1968, vi sono immagini,sentimenti, luoghi e situazioni che fanno parte del corollario della Munro.
Sono racconti che parlano di noi, al nostro io, alla parte più intima e vera di ciascuno di noi, al nostro profondo svelandosi e svelandoci.
Ciò che sorprende dello stile di questa autrice è la semplicità, la straordinaria capacità di parlare, di raccontare e raccontarsi in modo chiaro, diretto, lineare arrivando diritto al cuore.
L'ultimo racconto "Danza delle ombre felici" che dà il titolo alla raccolta lascia amarezza, ma anche bellezza in chi si accinge a leggere queste pagine dense e piene di significato che raccontano chi siamo sotto ogni punto di vista.
June 25, 2016
excellent writing and usually with interesting plots and eventual outcomes. The main downside for me is that I was never able to really identify with any of the different characters or feel something for them. I felt a little bit remote.
November 4, 2017
Find all my book reviews, plus fascinating author interviews, exclusive guest posts and book extracts, on my blog: https://whatcathyreadnext.wordpress.com/
This is the second collection of short stories by Alice Munro I’ve read. The first, Runaway, I described as ‘bleak’. But having read this collection, which was actually the first she ever published, I think I was too harsh. Instead, I think I should have said ‘unflinching in her observation’. I’m going to pick out three stories that I think illustrate both Munro’s gift for observation and her ability to reveal the petty snobberies of small town life.
In ‘Walker Brothers Cowboy’, Munro brilliantly conjures up the atmosphere of the small town where the narrator lives.
‘Then my father and I walk gradually down a long shabby, sort of street, with Silverwoods Ice Cream signs standing on the sidewalk, outside tiny, lighted stores…The street is shaded, in some places, by maple trees whose roots have cracked and heaved the sidewalk and spread out like crocodiles into the bare yards. People are sitting out, men in shirt-sleeves and undershirts and women in aprons – not people we know but if anybody looks ready to nod and say, “Warm night”, my father will nod too and say something the same.’
In ‘Shining Houses’, the residents of a new estate of ‘new, white and shining houses’ unite against the occupant of an old house who they believe is bringing down the value of their homes. Munro describes how the male residents of the new houses work on their properties at the weekends.
‘They worked with competitive violence and energy, all this being new to them; they were not men who made their livings by physical work. All day Saturday and Sunday they worked like this, so that in a year or two there should be green terraces, rock walls, shapely flower beds and ornamental shrubs.’
Don’t you just love that phrase ‘competitive violence’ to describe the sort of one-upmanship of neighbours?
In ‘Time of Death’, a tragic accident causes the other women of the community to rally round to support, Leona, the grieving mother.
‘Leona drew up her knees under the quilt and rocked herself back and forth as she wept, and threw her head down and then back (showing, as some of them noticed with a feeling of shame, the dirty lines on her neck).’
That detail of the woman’s dirty neck is what I meant by the unflinching nature of Munro’s observation. And, there is a further sting in the tail because it becomes clear their support is only temporary for a woman they consider of a lower class.
‘In the dark overheated kitchen the women felt the dignity of this sorrow in their maternal flesh, they were humble before this unwashed, unliked and desolate Leona.’
I really enjoyed these stories with their acute observation, dark humour and brilliant evocation of time and place. I hope if I’d read them when they were first published I’d have been adept enough to recognise Alice Munro as the huge literary talent she has since become.
This is the second collection of short stories by Alice Munro I’ve read. The first, Runaway, I described as ‘bleak’. But having read this collection, which was actually the first she ever published, I think I was too harsh. Instead, I think I should have said ‘unflinching in her observation’. I’m going to pick out three stories that I think illustrate both Munro’s gift for observation and her ability to reveal the petty snobberies of small town life.
In ‘Walker Brothers Cowboy’, Munro brilliantly conjures up the atmosphere of the small town where the narrator lives.
‘Then my father and I walk gradually down a long shabby, sort of street, with Silverwoods Ice Cream signs standing on the sidewalk, outside tiny, lighted stores…The street is shaded, in some places, by maple trees whose roots have cracked and heaved the sidewalk and spread out like crocodiles into the bare yards. People are sitting out, men in shirt-sleeves and undershirts and women in aprons – not people we know but if anybody looks ready to nod and say, “Warm night”, my father will nod too and say something the same.’
In ‘Shining Houses’, the residents of a new estate of ‘new, white and shining houses’ unite against the occupant of an old house who they believe is bringing down the value of their homes. Munro describes how the male residents of the new houses work on their properties at the weekends.
‘They worked with competitive violence and energy, all this being new to them; they were not men who made their livings by physical work. All day Saturday and Sunday they worked like this, so that in a year or two there should be green terraces, rock walls, shapely flower beds and ornamental shrubs.’
Don’t you just love that phrase ‘competitive violence’ to describe the sort of one-upmanship of neighbours?
In ‘Time of Death’, a tragic accident causes the other women of the community to rally round to support, Leona, the grieving mother.
‘Leona drew up her knees under the quilt and rocked herself back and forth as she wept, and threw her head down and then back (showing, as some of them noticed with a feeling of shame, the dirty lines on her neck).’
That detail of the woman’s dirty neck is what I meant by the unflinching nature of Munro’s observation. And, there is a further sting in the tail because it becomes clear their support is only temporary for a woman they consider of a lower class.
‘In the dark overheated kitchen the women felt the dignity of this sorrow in their maternal flesh, they were humble before this unwashed, unliked and desolate Leona.’
I really enjoyed these stories with their acute observation, dark humour and brilliant evocation of time and place. I hope if I’d read them when they were first published I’d have been adept enough to recognise Alice Munro as the huge literary talent she has since become.
September 12, 2011
Like the children in fairy stories who have seen their parents make pacts with terrifying strangers, who have discovered that our fears are based on nothing but the truth, but who come back fresh from marvellous escapes and take up their knives and forks, with humility and good manners, prepared to live happily ever after-like them, dazed and powerful with secrets, I never said a word. (Images)
Thankfully Munro stores up those childhood secrets and works them with a strange alchemy into gold. This was her first collection of stories, written over a period of fifteen years or so and published in 1968 when she was in her mid thirties. They draw much on her childhood and youth, growing up in a hard-scrabble kind of poverty in rural Ontario, in rooms with a square of linoleum and views of sun-blasted fields outside the window.
She seems to have arrived in the world as a fully-fledged writer: it is the deceptive simplicity of her writing that betrays an incomparable talent. It's the kind of writing that seems effortless, and can only appear so by much hard work. She has an amazing way of getting a character up and running with a few pertinent lines of description, or revealing a whole mood in one image. In Sunday Afternoon Alva is working as a maid for the Gannetts for the summer. She is free after she's done the lunch dishes, but what is she to do? "Her room was over the garage, and very hot. Sitting on the bed rumpled her uniform, and she did not have another ironed. She could take it off and sit in her slip, but Mrs Gannett might call her, and want her at once." Sunday afternoon encapsulated.
Free and yet not free, cold and gentle, bizarre and domestic: Munro is fond of the apparently paradoxical pairing. These stories are, perhaps, a little straighter, a little less subtle than her later work, but her flinty wisdom transforms the mundane world of knives and forks, and turns the everyday into the wonder of a moment of revelation, and the soaring power that can come with understanding.
Thankfully Munro stores up those childhood secrets and works them with a strange alchemy into gold. This was her first collection of stories, written over a period of fifteen years or so and published in 1968 when she was in her mid thirties. They draw much on her childhood and youth, growing up in a hard-scrabble kind of poverty in rural Ontario, in rooms with a square of linoleum and views of sun-blasted fields outside the window.
She seems to have arrived in the world as a fully-fledged writer: it is the deceptive simplicity of her writing that betrays an incomparable talent. It's the kind of writing that seems effortless, and can only appear so by much hard work. She has an amazing way of getting a character up and running with a few pertinent lines of description, or revealing a whole mood in one image. In Sunday Afternoon Alva is working as a maid for the Gannetts for the summer. She is free after she's done the lunch dishes, but what is she to do? "Her room was over the garage, and very hot. Sitting on the bed rumpled her uniform, and she did not have another ironed. She could take it off and sit in her slip, but Mrs Gannett might call her, and want her at once." Sunday afternoon encapsulated.
Free and yet not free, cold and gentle, bizarre and domestic: Munro is fond of the apparently paradoxical pairing. These stories are, perhaps, a little straighter, a little less subtle than her later work, but her flinty wisdom transforms the mundane world of knives and forks, and turns the everyday into the wonder of a moment of revelation, and the soaring power that can come with understanding.
November 14, 2017
L'occhio nel cielo
Amo il realismo col quale Alice Munro racconta le sue storie e condivide con noi incontri, fantasie, emozioni. La immagino camminare per le sue piccole cittadine dell’Ontario, catturare con lo sguardo i volti, con l’udito brani di conversazioni che le suggeriranno racconti. I suoi personaggi sono gente che vive di lavoro, piccoli commercianti, benzinai, venditori porta a porta e non si pongono problemi sofisticati. Un altro tratto che mi piace molto è l’assenza di moralismo e di ipocrisia. La sua fedeltà al mondo che l’ha espressa fa comparire spesso famiglie che vivono di allevamento di volpi o di cattura di altri animali, perché ammazzare per vivere non sembrava strano, prima che le pellicce sfilassero in passerella e ci si chiedesse se era necessario sopprimere 20 bestiole per ripararsi dal freddo. Questa è la sua prima raccolta di racconti e alcune storie sono meno sviluppate rispetto a quanto si troverà in opere successive. Però, già in alto si vede l’occhio nel cielo, quella specie di divinità primordiale che tutto vede e che non ti vuole né bene né male, ti osserva soltanto: per esempio nel racconto della madre trascurata e dei figlioli allo sbando, che le vicine cercano di aiutare, ma non si trattengono dal commentare sullo stato in cui hanno lasciato le lenzuola dopo aver dormito, perché sono sudici. E soprattutto nella descrizione del bambino travolto dall’acqua bollente, che perdeva la pelle ed emetteva un suono di agonia, come quello del cane al quale erano state tranciate le zampe. Riesce a scrivere cose terribili, senza alcun compiacimento: soltanto perché esisterebbero, anche se non venissero scritte. E’ bellissimo il racconto in cui papà e bambina scendono per un pendio e la bambina vede giungere qualcosa che, è sicura, esisteva da sempre nel loro destino e non riesce a formulare una parola per modificare il corso degli eventi. Alice Munro riesce a dar voce all’inesprimibile. Molto bello anche l’ultimo, nel quale la vecchia maestra, creduta personaggio sopravvissuto a se stesso, si rivela capace di creare un prodigio di armonia, un vero dono per quei bambini.
Amo il realismo col quale Alice Munro racconta le sue storie e condivide con noi incontri, fantasie, emozioni. La immagino camminare per le sue piccole cittadine dell’Ontario, catturare con lo sguardo i volti, con l’udito brani di conversazioni che le suggeriranno racconti. I suoi personaggi sono gente che vive di lavoro, piccoli commercianti, benzinai, venditori porta a porta e non si pongono problemi sofisticati. Un altro tratto che mi piace molto è l’assenza di moralismo e di ipocrisia. La sua fedeltà al mondo che l’ha espressa fa comparire spesso famiglie che vivono di allevamento di volpi o di cattura di altri animali, perché ammazzare per vivere non sembrava strano, prima che le pellicce sfilassero in passerella e ci si chiedesse se era necessario sopprimere 20 bestiole per ripararsi dal freddo. Questa è la sua prima raccolta di racconti e alcune storie sono meno sviluppate rispetto a quanto si troverà in opere successive. Però, già in alto si vede l’occhio nel cielo, quella specie di divinità primordiale che tutto vede e che non ti vuole né bene né male, ti osserva soltanto: per esempio nel racconto della madre trascurata e dei figlioli allo sbando, che le vicine cercano di aiutare, ma non si trattengono dal commentare sullo stato in cui hanno lasciato le lenzuola dopo aver dormito, perché sono sudici. E soprattutto nella descrizione del bambino travolto dall’acqua bollente, che perdeva la pelle ed emetteva un suono di agonia, come quello del cane al quale erano state tranciate le zampe. Riesce a scrivere cose terribili, senza alcun compiacimento: soltanto perché esisterebbero, anche se non venissero scritte. E’ bellissimo il racconto in cui papà e bambina scendono per un pendio e la bambina vede giungere qualcosa che, è sicura, esisteva da sempre nel loro destino e non riesce a formulare una parola per modificare il corso degli eventi. Alice Munro riesce a dar voce all’inesprimibile. Molto bello anche l’ultimo, nel quale la vecchia maestra, creduta personaggio sopravvissuto a se stesso, si rivela capace di creare un prodigio di armonia, un vero dono per quei bambini.
March 10, 2025
Dance of the Happy Shades was the first collection of 15 short stories written by Alice Munro in 1968 and won the Governor General's Award for English fiction in Canada in that year.
These stories range in length from 10 to 18 pages and are written by a master of the art. If you write short stories yourself, Alice Munro is one of the first writers you should read to find out how this genre is written.
These stories range in length from 10 to 18 pages and are written by a master of the art. If you write short stories yourself, Alice Munro is one of the first writers you should read to find out how this genre is written.
December 26, 2020
Cleaning up: my goodness, I wrote this in 2014 and didn't get around to publishing it.
Sociologically speaking, Munro's worth her weight in gold. Her stories preserve aspects of social history - mores, language, ways of living, the looks, the smells, the landscape - in a form that goes well beyond what is possible in documented sources. Nor does she need to introduce the drama necessary in movies. She can make things 3D without glasses. Layers of small vignettes that add up to a whole world - her world.
And because it is her world I suppose, her books, I see as I randomly attack them, seem to have a quality that reflects time and age. This set, her first, is preoccupied with the young and adolescent. It reads like a first. Slightly green and rough, they feel like maybe they were harder fought for than later stories, where she has found her exact voice and way. Even so, this first lot is still the same writer through and through. There is a sameness not just of topic and setting, but style which drove me to an impatient boredom in the end. Somehow Munro makes 3D very flat. I didn't care to finish the last two stories, much as it included the title piece. She'd been writing already for many years by the time this book came out, it covers over a decade in terms of her output, so although it's a first book, it isn't a first book the way all those hyped up creations by creative university literary courses are; the writing may be a bit green, but the writer isn't.
To be fair, as she writes largely of rural communities where her characters speak a very colloquial and uneducated brand of English, maybe green and rough reflects that, rather than her technique. That puts the reader of my edition, at least, in the bind in other ways. Mine is a shockingly proofread book. I have written to Vintage to try to find out more about this. We are talking about stories that were (in the main) published in magazine format, then into a book in 1968. My 2000 edition is a new one by Vintage/Random House.
Things don't start well for Random House as one opens the book and there in the author's biography is this in the opening sentence:
'...including Open Secrets which one the WH Smith Literary Award.'
Some sort of team at Random House can't tell the difference between its and it's. It's lacks its apostrophe at least nine times on pages 29, 129, 130, 138, 139, 141, and 156. Twice on two of those pages. There is nothing to suggest in the text as a whole that this is artifice on the part of the writer.
rest here: https://alittleteaalittlechat.wordpre...
Sociologically speaking, Munro's worth her weight in gold. Her stories preserve aspects of social history - mores, language, ways of living, the looks, the smells, the landscape - in a form that goes well beyond what is possible in documented sources. Nor does she need to introduce the drama necessary in movies. She can make things 3D without glasses. Layers of small vignettes that add up to a whole world - her world.
And because it is her world I suppose, her books, I see as I randomly attack them, seem to have a quality that reflects time and age. This set, her first, is preoccupied with the young and adolescent. It reads like a first. Slightly green and rough, they feel like maybe they were harder fought for than later stories, where she has found her exact voice and way. Even so, this first lot is still the same writer through and through. There is a sameness not just of topic and setting, but style which drove me to an impatient boredom in the end. Somehow Munro makes 3D very flat. I didn't care to finish the last two stories, much as it included the title piece. She'd been writing already for many years by the time this book came out, it covers over a decade in terms of her output, so although it's a first book, it isn't a first book the way all those hyped up creations by creative university literary courses are; the writing may be a bit green, but the writer isn't.
To be fair, as she writes largely of rural communities where her characters speak a very colloquial and uneducated brand of English, maybe green and rough reflects that, rather than her technique. That puts the reader of my edition, at least, in the bind in other ways. Mine is a shockingly proofread book. I have written to Vintage to try to find out more about this. We are talking about stories that were (in the main) published in magazine format, then into a book in 1968. My 2000 edition is a new one by Vintage/Random House.
Things don't start well for Random House as one opens the book and there in the author's biography is this in the opening sentence:
'...including Open Secrets which one the WH Smith Literary Award.'
Some sort of team at Random House can't tell the difference between its and it's. It's lacks its apostrophe at least nine times on pages 29, 129, 130, 138, 139, 141, and 156. Twice on two of those pages. There is nothing to suggest in the text as a whole that this is artifice on the part of the writer.
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June 7, 2015
Recull de contes primerencs de l'escriptora canadenca Alice Munro. Un conjunt de gran solidesa argumental i formalment impecables, aspecte que, tractant-se d'una escriptora que llavors s'iniciava (aquest recull es de l'any 1967, quan Munro en tenia 38), explica la grandesa de l'obra en el seu conjunt.
Trobem en aquest recull algun conte que podríem qualificar com autobiogràfic, com el que porta per títol "Nois i Noies" en el que una nena ens presenta la seva vida en una granja on el seu pare cria guineus per vendre's la pell, com la mateixa Alice Munro quan era petita.
A destacar el magnífic planteig de les trames en cadascun dels contes que, poc a poc, aniran agafant gruix de petites novel.les. El ritme lent i parsimoniós amb que arrenquen, guarda un cert paralelisme amb el paissatge i la vida enclausurada dels personatges que descriu. A mesura que el les pinzellades permeten entreveure el motiu principal del quadre, la exquisida descripció dels personatges (especialment les dones) fa que el conte agafi un cos i un ritme que ja no afluixa fins al final. No podríem dir si es tracta de novel.les curtes o de contes novelats, en qualsevol dels casos es tracta d'autentiques joies literàries.
Trobem en aquest recull algun conte que podríem qualificar com autobiogràfic, com el que porta per títol "Nois i Noies" en el que una nena ens presenta la seva vida en una granja on el seu pare cria guineus per vendre's la pell, com la mateixa Alice Munro quan era petita.
A destacar el magnífic planteig de les trames en cadascun dels contes que, poc a poc, aniran agafant gruix de petites novel.les. El ritme lent i parsimoniós amb que arrenquen, guarda un cert paralelisme amb el paissatge i la vida enclausurada dels personatges que descriu. A mesura que el les pinzellades permeten entreveure el motiu principal del quadre, la exquisida descripció dels personatges (especialment les dones) fa que el conte agafi un cos i un ritme que ja no afluixa fins al final. No podríem dir si es tracta de novel.les curtes o de contes novelats, en qualsevol dels casos es tracta d'autentiques joies literàries.
December 15, 2017
كشخص قرأ أعمال مونرو اللاحقة، أذكر نفسي أن هذه مجموعتها الأولى. يمكن هنا رؤية الخطوات الأولى التي اتخذتها باتجاه اقتناص اللحظات الانسانية الفاصلة في الحياة وتدوينها في قصة، لكنها هنا تركز أكثر فيما بدا لي على الوصف الخارجي للمشهد (عوضا عن العمق في الشخصيات في قصصها اللاحقة)، وعلى فترات زمنية قصيرة. القصص أيضا بدت أقصر من قصصها اللاحقة، وتميزت بقفلة خاتمة في معظمها.
أكثر القصص التي أحببتها في هذه المجموعة: المكتب (امرأة كاتبة تحاول الحصول على عزلة للكتابة)، العلاج، وقت الموت (مرعبة في الاقتراب من حادث موت طفل)، صبيان وبنات (النمطية التي تحكم تربية البنات)، بطاقة بريدية (الخذلان والغضب المكبوت حين ينفجر)، فستان أحمر (تبدو مواصلة لصبيان وبنات، مقاربة جديدة للنمطية في رسم أحلام البنات)، سلام أوترخت (وطأة الواجب تجاه آخر).
أكثر القصص التي أحببتها في هذه المجموعة: المكتب (امرأة كاتبة تحاول الحصول على عزلة للكتابة)، العلاج، وقت الموت (مرعبة في الاقتراب من حادث موت طفل)، صبيان وبنات (النمطية التي تحكم تربية البنات)، بطاقة بريدية (الخذلان والغضب المكبوت حين ينفجر)، فستان أحمر (تبدو مواصلة لصبيان وبنات، مقاربة جديدة للنمطية في رسم أحلام البنات)، سلام أوترخت (وطأة الواجب تجاه آخر).
February 12, 2024
Some of the stories were a bit tricky to follow that i ended up looking over different reviews to get a better handle of them but on the whole I was truly impressed by all exquisitely crafted stories as well as the author's literary style.can't wait to read more of Alice Munro's works :>
General theme of the book:
The story collection paints a rich tapestry of everyday life, woven with subtle yet profound insights into the human experience, loss, love,struggle of women for freedom,etc.
Here's a list of my favourite narratives :
.Images
.The Shining Houses
.Walker Brothers Cowboy
.The Time of Death
.Dance of the Happy Shades
General theme of the book:
The story collection paints a rich tapestry of everyday life, woven with subtle yet profound insights into the human experience, loss, love,struggle of women for freedom,etc.
Here's a list of my favourite narratives :
.Images
.The Shining Houses
.Walker Brothers Cowboy
.The Time of Death
.Dance of the Happy Shades
December 26, 2017
[rating = A-]
One of my: Best Books of the Year (for 2017)
Alice Munro is the best short story writer because she can take the most basic of lives and expose the subtle and underlying factors of it, making it interesting and at once realistic (very much like Anne Tyler at her best). I love how Munro hints at or furthers another story in the collection, yet at the same time keeping it individual and independent. She surprises you with the delicacy and veracity of her psychology and human behavior; she dazzles with the unexpected mundane; and she discovers her characters as she writes the story, not just revealing them to the reader but awakening them to their own fictional existence. Although Runaway is my favorite collection, The Dance of the Happy Shades showcases her early prowess at writing, and she is even adventurous in her narrative style and technique, which is a treat, for her latter work is usually told in the same format. A great collection of hate and power, love and injustice, guilt and ignorance, aging and living. Simply fantastic.
One of my: Best Books of the Year (for 2017)
Alice Munro is the best short story writer because she can take the most basic of lives and expose the subtle and underlying factors of it, making it interesting and at once realistic (very much like Anne Tyler at her best). I love how Munro hints at or furthers another story in the collection, yet at the same time keeping it individual and independent. She surprises you with the delicacy and veracity of her psychology and human behavior; she dazzles with the unexpected mundane; and she discovers her characters as she writes the story, not just revealing them to the reader but awakening them to their own fictional existence. Although Runaway is my favorite collection, The Dance of the Happy Shades showcases her early prowess at writing, and she is even adventurous in her narrative style and technique, which is a treat, for her latter work is usually told in the same format. A great collection of hate and power, love and injustice, guilt and ignorance, aging and living. Simply fantastic.
August 6, 2023
Have read and re-read some of these stories. Feels like historical fiction in that it takes us to a time where houses did not have electricity.
Munro's sentence structures can be idiosyncratic, yet as a writer she is always rewarding. This collection (her first) won a GG (prestigious Canadian literary award); yet her subsequent work is even better.
Her first collection still stands out after all these years.
Munro's sentence structures can be idiosyncratic, yet as a writer she is always rewarding. This collection (her first) won a GG (prestigious Canadian literary award); yet her subsequent work is even better.
Her first collection still stands out after all these years.
October 1, 2017
Primi racconti di Alice Munro: poi è migliorata, ma era già brava allora, nel lontano 1968.
May 21, 2011
I chose this book for an independent reading project in my high school fiction class. My teacher suggested Munro because he though I could identify with her particular writing style. This collection kept me enraptured with plot, characters, and the numerous nuggets of unexpected beauty dispersed throughout. Alice Munro is a brilliant writer, a fact I believe can be affirmed by the end of the titular story, Dance of the Happy Shades. Her stories and the characters within them have the uncanny ability to demand and hold your attention. I found (most prominently with the last story) that these stories are capable of manipulating one's consciousness as a reader; I think Munro, aside from her superb style, knows the mind of the reader inside-out--and she capitalizes expertly on that understanding.
November 28, 2019
5 fucking stars my God. What a fantastic collection of stories.
June 5, 2020
I haven't been able to focus at all since isolation started, but I read this in 24 hours.
July 22, 2020
زندگی عزیز را بیشتر دوست داشتم. I liked dear life more.
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