February 27, 2008
challenger
Because I have always been one for lofty, unattainable aspirations, and because even though this week was kicked off by an agent refusing to represent me in spite of my clear talent and publishable novel, I like to remind myself that there are others who are far more talented than I. To that end, I decided to purchase an Alice Munro book at Bookwoman today (new location near my house!). I was reading about Munro last night, about her emotionally intricate writings, her ability to delve into the subterranean depths of her character's psyches and leave absolutely nothing laid bare or even sacred. Reading Munro, I am reminded that my novel is very much a first novel, and like the first time you have sex, it is awkward, with tiny little bits I wish I could do over again. I am uncomfortable at this point in my life with the idea of being an ingenue, but I must accept that. Munro's writing is like that gentle, experienced lover who knows how to pleasure you in ways you hadn't even thought of, yet afterwards, it makes tons of sense and you aspire to add those maneuvers to your repertoire.
I purchased the book, "The View from Castle Rock," without giving it much thought or even reading the back. Tonight at dinner, I started to read the book (and yes, readers, Bob and I are so hard-core married that we now READ at the dinner table. It makes me wretch, but I must accept that most of the time, we don't have much to talk about anymore--oh, what would Munro write about us!!), which is about centuries-ago Scotland, potato farmers with dreams and secrets.
I then realized that the cover of the Vintage paperback edition is jarringly inappropriate! Behold, this chick-lit pinkness:
What does a pink bathing suit-clad faceless woman have to do with impoverished Scots? Ask the marketing department, I don't know. I found it to be deceiving. Munro is a challenging writer and that cover depicts a breezy, beachy read. The woman is lounging, and yet no one in Munro's book has yet to lounge. It's not a loungy book.
I pontificated like a good little well-read gifted child at my husband for awhile. It gave us something to talk about, although I felt I had mounted my soapbox and was subjecting Bob to a literary screed. Bob agreed with me on marketing, and while he is not familiar with Munro he did not take severe umbrage with packaging her short stories as chick lit.
Not that there's anything wrong with chick lit, mind you.
I will try to keep the offense to a minimum. I think I am just hungry for bookish stimulation, ranting. Semicolons. I am so alone.