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THE EXPOSURE OF ALICE MUNRO, Art and Human Feeling by Bill Lee

The shocking and quite depressing news of how Canada’s much lionized short story genius and Nobel Laureate, Alice Munro, had abetted the actions and cover up of her youngest daughter’s sexual abuse by her second husband, is all over the place. The fact that this mother, when finally informed by Andrea, took the side of the perpetrator is a shocking, even sickening story. Even after his eventual arrest and conviction for indecent assault in 2005, at age 80, Munro stayed with him but shut her daughter out.

 

I’m[i] wrestling with these facts from three perspectives. First, I am a father of three children, two daughters and the grandfather of seven grandchildren, three of them granddaughters. Second, I’ve been a social worker who, for a time, had reason to deal with families where this kind of aberrant behaviour had been reported. Third, my beloved late wife, who was among other things an English major, loved Munro’s writing. As I hear and read the information and the perspectives that are coming in, I find that I am not sure if I am feeling sadder for Andrea Munro Skinner, the sexual abuse survivor, or angry at her mother, the famous and successful author who denied her youngest child the love and support she so badly needed. Or, on the other hand am I more shocked and disgusted that Munro stayed with the monster, hushed things up, and chose to protect the perpetrator. The evidence demonstrates that this man showed no remorse and even attempted to place blame on the nine year old child whom he had injured so badly. The “union” lasted until his death.

 

Of course, as a friend, Maureen Bourke, made clear to me in one message, we cannot forget that Andrea’s father, Jim Munro, did not do anything to make sure the predator was at least banished from contact. He was actually part of constructing his family’s plan, which was never quite sufficient, to try and make sure that his daughter never had to be alone with her mom’s husband, the predator, when she travelled from BC, where she and her sisters lived with her dad, to Ontario to stay with her mom for the summer. His major wrongdoing, it seems to me, was to become part of keeping the attacks secret and thus supporting his ex-wife, thereby leaving his daughter alone with the fear, shame and self-doubt with which she suffered for years. 

 

One thing is sure, Munro’s daughter has gone through a horrible stretch of her life. However, somehow she has survived and from reports she has come out the other side of the experience as someone who understands her own pain but who also understands that in sharing her story there can be some understanding and some good beyond herself.

 

But then there is the question of how we are to treat the genuine art of a person who is deeply flawed? How do we “remember” the writing of one who could not see past her own perceived needs and denied those of her daughter? That also goes for her reputation. I am not alone with this question. People are thinking about the issue and speaking out on it. Here are a few things that I found in my morning papers etc. and which were useful in my trying to sort through the story.

 

Author, Joyce Maynard: “There is art. And then there is the artist.”

 

A reader, Barbara VanDenburgh: “You cannot separate the life from the work”.

 

Letter to the Editor writer, Tony D’Andrea: ‘The disconnect between Munro’s perceptive writing and her apparent lack of self-awareness in real life is difficult to reconcile, but it reflects a harsh truth. Unlike in art, life often lacks neat resolution, and this demands public scrutiny. Setting the record straight for Andrea Robin Skinner is a necessity.”

 

Letter to the Editor writer, Kim Darby: “Alice Munro failed as a mother, parent and human being. Worse still, her daughter’s situation was the theme of one of her stories. A male celebrity would be taken to task. If there are awards or institutions bearing her name, they should be removed.”

 

A Face Book post by Michelle Raoul Winters: “I’ve chosen the artist being responsible in the past which means I should do the same here, so it leaves me sad to have “lost” an author who I once admired and studied during my English degree. And yes, anything named after her should be reconsidered. And these revelations should be taught to students at the juncture where, in the past, her works would be highlighted. We can’t add to the hiding by simply excluding her work from literature reviews going forward.”

 

I think at the present time I find myself in agreement with removing Munro’s name from any public honour or institution. Her abominable lack of care obviously had a less widespread catastrophic damage than that caused by famous slavery advocates or than that of the Churches, particularly the Roman Catholic Church, abetting the abuse of so many innocent Indigenous children perpetrated by its clerics, but her actions were still egregious and she was a public person. I have already looked through my book shelves to assure myself that they no longer hold any of her famous books[ii]. Lastly, I find myself concurring with Michelle Raoul Winters that classes where her work will be studied should also cover her abysmal failure as a mother, but more deeply as a human being.

 

All this said, the whole mess won’t leave me or many people I suspect, alone. I’m pretty sure that I will still be mulling these things over for a while and like many others, I will continue to do so for some time to come. And that is probably, as it should be.


[i] Alice Munro stayed with her second husband until his death in 2013.

 

[ii] I hear, and read, that at least in her short story, “The Vandals” she dealt with a family which experienced similar child abuse. It is thought that perhaps she was trying to work through the situation in her writing, rather than in real life. It may have been easier for her to think that what she had been part of was fiction rather than real life. It may not be or seem rational on my part, but somehow to me to become part of that, even by reading, seems a bit like participating in her cowardly avoidance.

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