Review: Vintage Munro

Vintage Munro by Alice Munro
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The Vintage series of books is great. Whomever made the selections of writings of contemporary authors did a fine job. The short stories in this book show why Munro won the Nobel Prize. Her power of description is second to none. Her characters may as well be in the room with you. There's a lot of small town Canada in here. The central characters are often revisiting the past through the present, when someone or thing catches their eye. I love the way Munro walks us seamlessly through time, often to explore the interplay of relationships between several generations of any given family. What time has done to them. What time has given them. The characters often have a delicate understanding of their own lives, it seems. Confronted with the opinions and memories of their relatives, trying to hold on to the dialectic without shutting down or falling apart. Like no other, Munro is able to draw the reader into the art of investigating her characters' lives, and feel the pain of separate truths.

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the mad scientist in me and you (creative process)

mad scientist

I don't know about you but only in silence can I break away from routine and find my way back to her, the mad scientist in me. Ya, once I find her all bets may be off, she may decide to pump some Iggy Pop or Nine Inch Nails into my bloodstream with all the coffee. Here in my laboratory -- aka my apartment --  playing with the soft membrane between you and me in my mind. Going off somewhere unusual and yet somehow self-validating. The unitive awaits us, the collective mind, where we may connect from any distance. It's extrasensory. My head is buzzing by Alice Munro's  Carried Away. I let the kittens outside for the night. They will be cold but they want to go. I am denying the urge to go off with salts and butters on a plate of broiled veggies and shrimp. Other tenants in the building are bumping into our shared walls, makes me feel safer. Me and you, we really need to break the routine for a hot second. Let the atmosphere in my kitchen become remarkable all of a sudden. Only because I am paying extra attention. Super cool and clear with vinyl floors, flourescent overheads, a giant green chair, a laminate wood table. Much different from the feel of the carpeted living room with cathedral ceiling. I can breathe into the silence and feel the softness of the inside of my baby blue dollar store slippers. I can follow the whisping whirr of the ceiling fan. The lovely chime of the Tibetan bell tongue, rocking against itself. Why fear my mad scientist when I love her so? She is raison d'etre like no other! Out of her comes strange stories like Maze and Grand Theft Life. Maybe that's what terrifies me? Stories of my life but not exactly memoirs. Call it creative nonfiction. Or don't call it anything at all. Just what comes out of the silence with me. Alluring and luring us to a feast of re creation. Thank god I have my laboratory. Thank god I have my routine to break. Thank god I have my health. Thank god for Alice Munro. Thank god for you. Thank god for books. Thank god for the mad scientist in me -- and in you. Let's all let ourselves get carried away by our experiments tonight. This is true living!