tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14146381.post113479427563349937..comments2023-10-22T09:19:29.996-04:00Comments on I Hate The New Yorker: dec 5 issue: alice munro, wenlock edgezoe p.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02535684589288030978noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14146381.post-1135011025624497912005-12-19T11:50:00.000-05:002005-12-19T11:50:00.000-05:00I'm glad you liked my excerpts. With this and The...I'm glad you liked my excerpts. With this and The Squid, you make me feel like I could sell snowballs to the Pittsburghers . . . I know SO LITTLE about contemporary literature. <BR/><BR/>And I just sold my book of Munro short stories because when I read them a few years back they seemed repetitive - in plot, language, use of language . . . the same tricks over and over. Not within the stories, as here, which was creepy and good, but from story to story.zoe p.https://www.blogger.com/profile/02535684589288030978noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14146381.post-1134981714744897212005-12-19T03:41:00.000-05:002005-12-19T03:41:00.000-05:00I wanna read that story now. I haven't been readin...I wanna read that story now. I haven't been reading the NYer since our sub. ran out. Anyway, the hook imagery seems sort of violent to me. And the idea of "hanging oneself" or "hanging on" or being "hung up" . . .<BR/><BR/>it reminds me of that margaret atwood (another canadian) poem: you fit into me / like a hook into an eye // a fish hook/ an open eyefemme feralhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04487456561207417558noreply@blogger.com