Honestly, I picked this because of Munro's Nobel Prize win. Also, I could stand to read more serious works among my usual dishy reads.

The stories were mostly depressing, and everyone was either poor, ill, abused, or a combination of the three. But despite the dour themes (And the jumping around in time, which always confuses me. But as I've said in past reviews, that's my own mental malfunction.) I enjoyed the stories, choosing to reread a few so that I could catch the subtleties among the thick prose. I was surprised that this book took me as long to read as a regular novel.

I’m not a huge fan of short story collections but these stories were engaging. I liked the time skips, the ordinary-ness of the characters and plots. Saddened by their apparent unhappiness. Also struck by Munro’s vivid and, to me, slightly unusual descriptions.

The last story got to me, but for the most part I felt like I was missing what Munro was putting down. There were glimpses and snatches of genuine moments, but the short stories left me wanting more description and understanding of the characters involved.

At first I struggled to engage with these stories. Luckily I was reading it for a Canadian Literature university course so with insightful analysis and discussion in class I eventually found deep enjoyment in this anthology of stories.

The first two stories were very strong. I found myself drifting a lot by the middle of the third story. Probably a reflection of me and my mood than the writing. I just haven't been a reader lately. In any case, Munro is an author to revisit when my head is back in the books.

Short stories can be very unsatisfying. But Ms. Munro delivers, if not a home run, a base hit with every story. I just loved them. The characters depict the human condition like a Bruce Springstein song, albeit it is in Canada, not Jersey. Each one was a gem, check it out if you are in the mood for deep fiction.

I'm sure Alice Munro is wonderful, but personally I am rarely drawn to her. Although I liked the stories I read in this collection, once I started picking up other things, I found that I would rather read almost anything else than finish these stories. That is not necessarily a bad thing. The stories are good but they are not "fun." I don't read for fun, though, so this wasn't a deciding factor for me. I am not sure why I wasn't more compelled to finish.

The stories I read were

"Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage"
"Floating Bridge"
"Family Furnishings"
"Comfort"

"Family Furnishings" was my favorite because it was about complicated -- and sometimes petty -- family issues. Its characters were unique, and their attitudes toward one another were interesting. A young girl wants to distance herself from her family, her aunt (or cousin? or father's cousin? it's hard for me to remember) has somewhat of a relationship with the young girl, but doesn't really like her. It's a complex identity story that is very nuanced.

"Floating Bridge" was an interesting story of stasis, movement, and desire. The end was nice.

"Comfort" I actually don't know if I finished. It's about a woman and her dead husband.

"Hateship, Loveship..." I enjoyed, but I must admit that I enjoyed the Kristin Wiig adaptation better. There is a large gap in the short story, and the movie fills it in. I find the "how" that is left out of the story much more interesting than the "why?" of the set-up and the conclusion.

Perhaps in a few years I'll revisit Munro again. But I recently visited Canada and I didn't read any of her stories there, so it may be a while.

Unbelievably perfect.

Una scrittura veramente al femminile, dove le protagoniste di tutti i racconti sono donne e appare chiaro il loro modo di vivere la vita. Certo che gli uomini ne escono quasi sempre male, anche quando, come nell'ultimo, bellissimo, racconto, "The Bear Came Over the Mountain", sono apparentemente devoti alla propria moglie. Tra i più riusciti racconti anche quello che dà il titolo alla raccolta, dove le protagoniste appaiono artefici del proprio e dell'altrui destino.