Risks and Expectations in Alice Munro’s Writing

Risks and Expectations in Alice Munro’s Writing

Alice Munro’s stories seem to be predictable, but suddenly take a perplexing turn causing the characters to learn the value of taking risks.  Examples of this can be found in several of her short stories, including How I Met my Husband, Day of the Butterfly, and Miles City, Montana.  Munro seems to foreshadow one outcome and then plays out another, she “sets up very clear expectations” and then doesn’t quite follow through (Hampson 477).  The female narrators are hard to read, and are all very tentative when it comes to risk taking. I would like to focus on how Munro focuses the readers’ attention on this in these short stories.

In How I Met my Husband, the title implies that the story is mainly about Edie meeting her husband.  “The expectations created by the title have been fulfilled, technically,” but it is definitely not in the way that the readers feels was set up (Hampson 477).  The title is not only very misleading, but it makes you anxious to hear a romantic tale from Edie.  Instead most of the story is spent in leading up to the fulfillment of the title, which doesn’t happen until the very last paragraph.

All throughout reading this story, there seems to be a pull between Edie and the Pilot, and the reader is compelled to believe that the two will end up together.  When Chris promises to write, it is easy to assume they will become pen pals, writing one another until, after a long romance, they finally end up getting married.  The turning point brings about disappointment when Edie goes everyday to the mailbox, anticipating the first letter to arrive only to find an empty handed mailman waiting for her. 

Unfortunately, the reader realizes the turn of events only as Edie does: “It never crossed my mind for a long time a letter might not come” (219). It never crosses the readers’ mind that Edie and the pilot will never end up together until this time. Then it become painfully obvious, for both reader and character, that “no letter [is] ever going to come” (219).  The reader can’t help feeling like the ending they’ve been given is not as good as the one they were anticipating.

Edie learns that disappointments happen, but she decides not to show them to others: “I like for people to think what pleases them and makes them happy” (514).  Now the readers can clearly see that the narrator has been lying to herself, and to them, the readers, throughout her narration.  By not ending up with the pilot, Edie learns that some things or people are not worth waiting for, and she does find her husband.  Waiting for the letter was a risk, but the outcome was great.

            The expectation and turning point are much more subtle in Day of the Butterfly.  The reader starts to assume that Helen and Myra will probably become friends as they walk together eating Cracker Jack, even though Myra is an outcast.  Munro encourages this idea with Helen giving the prize to Myra. 

Helen is afraid that someone will know that she gave Myra a gift, she hopes Myra won’t wear it or “someone [would ask] her where she got it” (238).  Despite this, the reader is still led to believe that these two will eventually become friends, that there is something good when their fingers touch: “I can go and talk to her at recess. Why not? Why not?” (238).

At one point Helen sees a benefit in befriending Myra: “The birthday party of Myra Sayla became fashionable” (239).  She is eager to go to the hospital to celebrate Myra’s non-birthday.  This makes the readers believe even further that a friendship between Myra and Helen is not only possible, but likely.  The readers see that when it is socially acceptable, Helen can befriend Myra.  But friendship can’t and should not be faked, for this reason Helen feels uneasy around Myra at the hospital.  She knows that she was being selfish and unfair to Myra.  Being friends with Myra would soil what little self-image she had. That was a risk she could not take.

            The unresolved expectation in Miles City, Montana is much more dramatic. Munro begins the story with the narrator relating a childhood memory of a boy drowning.  When the suggestion of swimming is first brought up by the traveling family, the readers’ stomach goes queasy.  It seems obvious that one of the children is going to drown, otherwise why tell about the boys funeral? 

This idea is enforced by the fact that the lifeguard is not paying attention, and suddenly Meg has gone missing.  The readers and the characters expect the worse, but this story ends, really, with a feeling of ease.

            The narrator learns that she should put a little more trust in her youngest daughter.  Taking a three year old seriously is a risk, but Meg proved capable of a lot more than anyone gave her credit for.

             Munro’s stories make for interesting reading, “fracturing each character's—and each reader's—expectations” (Bright 4).  Taking risks is not always a bad thing.   Edie takes a risk by opening herself up for the possibility of heartache.  Helen is friendly to Myra, even though it is unpopular. Though she does it in secret, what she learns from the experience will stay with her.  The mother in Miles City, Montana sees her daughter in the water.  At first she doesn’t believe what she sees, but she takes a risk and trusts that her daughter really can swim. Though it can be frustrating, these unpredictable turns in the stories allow the readers to learn lessons along with the characters “that shift our perceptions of ordinary events” (Ross 474-75).  The seemingly predictable takes an unexpected turn that involves taking a few risks.

Works Cited

McMullen, Lorraine. “Shameless, Marvelous, Shattering Absurdity.” Probable Fictions: Alice Munro’s Narrative Acts. Ed. Louis K. Mackendrick. Ontario: ECU Press, 1983. Print.

Meyer, Michael, ed. The Bedford Introduction to Literature. 5^th edition. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 1999. Print.

“Minimalism.” Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary. 10^th edition. Springfield: Merriam-Webster’s, Incorporated, 1999. Print.

Munro, Alice. “Day of the Butterfly.” An Introduction to Fiction. 9^th edition. Eds. X.J. Kennedy and Dana Gioia. New York: Pearson/Longman, 2007. Print.

- - -. “The Found Boat.” An Introduction to Fiction. 5^th edition. Eds. X.J. Kennedy and Dana Gioia. New York: HarperCollins, 1991. Print.

- - -. “How I met my Husband.” An introduction to Fiction. 10^th edition. Eds. X.J. Kennedy and Dana Gioia. New York: Pearson/Longman, 2007. Print.

- - -. “Miles City, Montana.” Michael Meyer 470-83.

- - -. “An Ounce of Cure.” Michael Meyer 451-58.

- - -. “Prue.” Michael Meyer 467-69.

Weiss, Allan. “How I met my Husband: Overview.” Reference Guide to Short Fiction. Ed. Noelle Watson. Detroit: St. James Press. Literature Resource Center. Web. 8 Nov 2009.

Woodcock, George. “On Symbolism in Munro’s Fiction.” Michael Meyer 476.

Four-Square Fanatics

As children, many of us played the classic game of four-square. It's the game in which four players each stand in a square and hit the ball to one another. The ball must bounce once before a player hits it, but it cannot bounce more than once. Most of us probably forgot about this competitive game, or only hold its memories. However, this game isn't just for children. At Box Elder High School there are quite a few students who play it daily.

Garrett Jensen, an intense four-square player, is one of them. He kindly gave me the history of four-square at Box Elder. Jordan Bostwich and "the Legua Brothers" originally started this four-square trend during the 2006-2007 school year. After they graduated the game died out. Garrett revived last winter, after a trimester without his lunchtime sport.

Garrett and his friends still play outside the main office during second lunch. The best thing about the game is that it is inexpensive. "You can buy a ball at Wal-mart and it will last about six months," Garrett told me. In my opinion, there is nothing better than good, inexpensive fun. I like to have fun, so, I decided to find out exactly what it is that makes these teens tick.

For nearly two years, I have eaten lunch with the four-square kids in my line of vision. In the warm months, I sat beneath the shade of a tree, outside in the sunshine, and they played their game, despite the heat.. When it got too cold for me, I moved inside to the choir bench, next to the windows. They never came in from the cold, they were too dedicated to their game. Those individuals provided me with free entertainment, and I just watched them in fascination.

From the inside of the warm school building, looking out to the bitter cold gaming, I have formed many thoughts and opinions about these kids. Firstly, the group seems a little exclusive to me. Nearly every member is male and they are all friends. I wondered to myself if just anyone could jump in and play. What would happen if I tried? Would I be welcomed? Most likely they would let me play without saying anything, but they would secretly resent me. I just had to find out what would happen. It was killing me. So, I decided to take my chances and join the game.

The first step I took: I looked them up on Facebook. I found the group Box Elder Four-Square—For the Love of the Game. I clicked the join button, made a comment on their "Wall," and then waited. After several days nothing had happened. I took this as a good sign, they had not kicked me out of their Facebook group, even though I had never played the game. I found out a lot of good information. Apparently, they have made plans to break a world record. During spring break this year, they are going to play four-square for 30 straight hours. Not even the gloom of night can stop them from doing the thing they love the most. On the web everything was looking good, but how would they respond to me in the real world?

I, like any typical girl, couldn't join the game alone. So, I armed myself with my friend, Breanna Brown and we headed outside to play. They were playing doubles. This means that there were two people in each square. Breanna and I entered the first square fully unprepared. The server must have sensed our "feminine weakness," because he served the ball straight to us. It bounced once in our square, Breanna hit it, and it bounced again in our square. The ball can only bounce one time in your square; we were out. The guys tried to let us stay in, "they're girls, give them another chance." But we were out, fair and square, and didn't want any special treatment.

I learned that most of the time of this game is spent waiting in line. Even those who are masters of four-square can easily get out on the smallest of technicalities. When I talked to Garrett Jensen he told me that anyone can play, but if there were too many players, the wait in line could be boringly long.

Breanna and I almost made it to the King square before the bell rang. We got muddy and sweaty, but we had a lot of fun. We ran and dove to keep the ball going. The game was great! Nobody said any derogatory statements or gave us any weird looks, but you could tell that we were not part of the group. Among the regulars, friends were cheering friends and everyone was laughing when mistakes were made. When I was on the court, however, no words of encouragement nor discouragement were yelled to me from the line. I did not take offence, however, because I knew that I was an outsider and new to the game. Somehow, I feel that if I started playing on a daily basis, they would warm up to me. In time, I could become part of the group. I love this unofficial club because it really is all inclusive. The only thing that matters is how you play the game!