I think there is no doubt that Alice Munro the mother was a monster. Her lack of empathy was truly shocking. As an artist, she has endless empathy for her characters, and does not spare her readers the horrific details of sexual abuse (see, for example, the second story in her collection "Who Do You Think You Are," entitled "Privilege"). But, as a writer, she also has a lot of detachment. Her prevailing tone is ironic. Maybe that's the secret to how she could reconcile her love for her characters with her lack of love for her family. Her daughter's inconvenient revelation threatened to dismantle the life she had carefully constructed with a man who took care of all the practical details of life (things like driving), so that she could devote herself to writing. She claimed that she couldn't leave him because she "loved him too much." I doubt that she was actually capable of love. She was in the thrall of her muse, and that, apparently took precedence over everything, including the psychological health of her daughter. Monstrous? Indeed. But not unlike many other great artists(the biographies of Richard Wagner or Pablo Picasso or Paul Gaugin are unbearable reading). It's just that the culture of the 20th century and before was more likely to excuse a man for callous indifference to the people who loved him than it was a woman. In the 21st century, we see things a little differently, but we have not entirely given up this attitude. If Munro were alive today and in her right mind, she would surely be cancelled. And she should have been-as a human being. But not as an artist. Her stories, I predict, will stand the test of time after this horrific blow has healed.
Exactly this! Excellent article, thank you 🎭
I think there is no doubt that Alice Munro the mother was a monster. Her lack of empathy was truly shocking. As an artist, she has endless empathy for her characters, and does not spare her readers the horrific details of sexual abuse (see, for example, the second story in her collection "Who Do You Think You Are," entitled "Privilege"). But, as a writer, she also has a lot of detachment. Her prevailing tone is ironic. Maybe that's the secret to how she could reconcile her love for her characters with her lack of love for her family. Her daughter's inconvenient revelation threatened to dismantle the life she had carefully constructed with a man who took care of all the practical details of life (things like driving), so that she could devote herself to writing. She claimed that she couldn't leave him because she "loved him too much." I doubt that she was actually capable of love. She was in the thrall of her muse, and that, apparently took precedence over everything, including the psychological health of her daughter. Monstrous? Indeed. But not unlike many other great artists(the biographies of Richard Wagner or Pablo Picasso or Paul Gaugin are unbearable reading). It's just that the culture of the 20th century and before was more likely to excuse a man for callous indifference to the people who loved him than it was a woman. In the 21st century, we see things a little differently, but we have not entirely given up this attitude. If Munro were alive today and in her right mind, she would surely be cancelled. And she should have been-as a human being. But not as an artist. Her stories, I predict, will stand the test of time after this horrific blow has healed.
No doubt, the reason why her daughter waited until after her death to reveal the truth. I wonder if she told her mother what she was going to do?
That’s an interesting question.