Hello reader, remember me? I know it's been over a year since I last wrote and at the time said I was working on a longer post (still am, with the current length of it already ridiculously more like a book), but I wanted to add my two cents' worth first on a painful subject while it's still fresh in our minds.
Much has been written about Alice Munro and the revelations of abuse penned by her daughter Andrea in a recent letter published in the Toronto Star that shocked many, with the ensuing sense of betrayal felt by Munro's readers both palpable and understandable.
Because here was a brilliant writer with immense insight into human nature (of girls and women especially), and of the familial, social and cultural norms we navigate, and through her writing it seemed as if she knew us, and revealed us to ourselves in ways we didn't always have the words for.
After hearing she had died I realized to my horror that I had downsized my collection of her books a few decades ago (along with fellow Canadian icons Margaret Laurence and Margaret Atwood), when I moved into a much smaller place. I quickly began to rebuild that collection and happily began re-reading Dance of the Happy Shades, which resonated even more strongly than before.
Then, the news. Would I have begun to restock my Munro collection after reading Andrea's letter? Perhaps not, as I was just as shocked, bewildered and angry as other fans, and have had no problem in the past in refusing to consume work by artists (e.g., Woody Allen), after learning of their misdeeds. So I don't blame anyone for feeling they can no longer read her work.
As for myself, as much as I find her reaction to her daughter's disclosure heinous (apparently she initially denied the abuse when her husband was charged), I can't and won't discount her work, although I'll now be re-reading it through a different lens. It's a damn shame she was unable or unwilling to apply her powers of perception unto herself and her family, but being extremely flawed doesn't negate the impact her writing has had on so many of us.
But I think and hope we can learn a few things from this recent scandal. First, no matter how strongly a writer or artist seems to speak to or for us, it doesn't mean we know them, or that they're any less flawed than most of us are. Also, while the initial focus was more on Alice and the feelings sparked among her readers, the focus needs to go back to Andrea and other victims of abuse. They're the ones we need to center.
And if one thing can finally (please!) become crystal clear, it's that while child sexual abuse may not be the norm, it's not a wild aberration either (neither is parental or familial denial), and both are much more common than we're stilling willing to admit. While it's also tempting to dismiss Alice's reaction as monstrous, it too is sadly common, and by conveniently painting abuse enablers as monsters, it lets society off the hook from examining more closely why and how this occurs.
We also need to talk about how silence, secrecy and shame aren't just confined to abuse victims and their families. Look at how many people over the years are said to have known at least bits of Andrea's story. At how the abuser's conviction, which should have been BIG news, wasn't. And why wasn't it?
Why did it take years for Andrea to persuade journalists to run her story? As someone from the Toronto Star indicated, they originally turned her story down because they were worried about how it would affect their relationships with publishers, many of whom have not yet commented. How many other people over the years were more concerned about how disclosure would affect them or Alice than Andrea?
Again, secrecy, silence, and shame aren't just confined to families. After all the high-profile cases of abusers like Harvey Weinstein, Bill Cosby, and our own Canadian Jian Ghomeshi, we should know that by now. Silence is systemic, not just personal or familial, and in part that's how abuse thrives and continues to go unnoticed.
Getting back to Alice, readers also need to look at how we helped build Munro's fame, and while maybe not complicit, still in a certain sense instrumental in helping to build the silence that those around Alice didn't want to break. Could this be part of our outrage? We not only thought we knew her (she certainly seemed to know us), but we don't like to think of the role we may have inadvertently played?
Andrea is not only courageous and articulate in telling her story, but lucky to have siblings who've rallied around her, because that too is not as common as it should be. Because while we think of her mother's reaction as uncommon, it is in fact all too common.
I agree that Andrea's story needs to become a focal part of Munro's legacy, and I hope that the shock wave this revelation has caused will prod more of us into paying attention: To victims who need to be the central focus rather than abusers and bystanders, to societal silence which builds on and perpetuates familial silence, to why the reaction of women like Alice is still so prevalent. We have a lot of work to do.
Back soon, with a post promised from over a year ago already...
* a nod to one of her books Who Do You Think You Are?
