Dear Life

It took me four months to finish this book. It has often been said that those who write clearly and simply are better than those who prefer to swathe their prose in ambiguity. Alice Munro definitely falls in the former category, although I have come to prefer the latter.

This book is proof that something can be created from nothing, that ordinary stories are just as capable of being magical as ones that appear to be extraordinary. Here is a form of magic I find hard to swallow, but I can still feel her power. And it makes me hope that, some day, I too will be able to prize the clarity of simplicity over the polish of eloquence.

Sadly, I still feel that a story isn't as important as the way it is told. I need a whirlwind of revelations to sweep me way. The power of language has not been unleashed here. I need to be PERSUADED that there is beauty in life, not coldly informed.