Dear Life
Stories
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- USD 9.99
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- USD 9.99
Descripción editorial
#1 NATIONAL BESTSELLER • Fourteen stunning short stories from Nobel Prize–winning author Alice Munro, “one of the great short story writers not just of our time but of any time” (The New York Times Book Review).
“Wise and unforgettable. Dear Life is a wondrous gift; a reminder of why Munro’s work endures.”—The Boston Globe
A BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR: The New York Times Book Review, The Atlantic, Vogue, The Washington Post, NPR, San Francisco Chronicle
In this brilliant collection, Alice Munro pinpoints the moment a person is forever altered by a chance encounter, an action not taken, or a simple twist of fate. Her characters are flawed and fully human: their stories draw us in with their quiet depth and surprise us with unexpected turns. And while most are set in her signature territory around Lake Huron, some strike even closer to home: an astonishing suite of four autobiographical tales offers an unprecedented glimpse into Munro’s own childhood.
Exalted by her clarity of vision and her unparalleled gift for storytelling, Dear Life shows how strange, perilous, and extraordinary ordinary life can be.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
Joan Didion once said "I didn't want to see life reduced to a short story... I wanted to see life expanded to a novel." Didion had her own purposes, but Munro readers know that the dichotomy between expansive novel and compressed short story doesn't hold in her work. Munro (Too Much Happiness) can depict key moments without obscuring the reality of a life filled with countless other moments told or untold. In her 13th collection, she continues charting the shifts in norms that occur as WWII ends, the horses kept for emergencies go out of use, small towns are less isolated, and then gradually or suddenly, nothing is quite the same. There are no clunkers here, and especially strong stories include "Train," "To Reach Japan," "Haven," and "Corrie." And for the first time, Munro writes about her childhood, in the collection's final four pieces, which she describes as "not quite stories.... I believe they are the first and last and the closest things I have to say about my own life." These feature the precision of her fiction with the added interest of revealing the development of Munro's eye and her distance from her surroundings, both key, one suspects, in making her the writer she is. While many of these pieces appeared in the New Yorker, they read differently here; not only has Munro made changes, but more importantly, read together, the stories accrete, deepen, and speak to each other.
