*haha! No, I don’t mean that literally. It’s just that I sometimes cannot resist silly puns.
But I’ll start with the Unbearable Delightedness of Receiving – in this case a small book, by mail.
The book is hand-made, from unbleached hand-made paper. The pages are filled with airy, graceful calligraphy.
It is intended to be an extremely gracious “thank you” from the person to whom I sent one of my books. A book-length hand-written thank you note – in exchange for a mere commercial publication! That’s what I call high value.
Anyway. The four pictures below are a glimpse at what I received.
ONE: The Book, pre-opening.
TWO: The Clasp, un-done.
THREE: The Inside Pages, with just a peek at the charming messages contained therein. Naturally, I will not actually share the contents! They are for me alone.
FOUR: The Book, now closed, with its decorative locking cover strongly resembling the archway into a magic palace.
And now for the final reveal: the author of this amazing, unforgettable thank-you book is none other than the amazing, unforgettable BILL AITKEN!
Travel writer, free-wheeling mystic [plus a whole lot more] and also – surprise! – fellow cartoonist in the pages of the Sunday Observer! His nom de plume was BILLU and his wacky toons appeared alongside SUKI in those long-vanished days, when editors like Vinod Mehta strode the Earth, publishing real news and real views.
Please go Google Bill’s name. You will not be disappointed. He is one of the Great Characters that India attracted the attention of, a few thousand years ago. He made this country his home. Lives in Mussoorie. Sends thank-you books.
And now for something altogether different: my interest in Alice Munro, the late Canadian Nobel-Prize-winning author who, in recent weeks/months, has received the trash-at-will treatment from readers around the world.
Why? Because of accusations made by one of her daughters, about her mother and step-father.
I had not read any of Munro’s books or stories at the time I first read an opinion piece denouncing her. You can follow up, please, on your own time. There’s lots out there. Auntie Google will readily oblige you, if you type in “Alice Munro, controversy”.
It isn’t my aim to discuss the controversy, because hundreds of extremely knowledgeable people have already done so. To be reading this author after the daughter’s revelations have been made public is oddly enriching, however.
So far, I’ve read (most of) RUNAWAY and HATESHIP, FRIENDSHIP, COURTSHIP, LOVESHIP, MARRIAGE. Currently I’m half-way through DEAR LIFE. I bought the first two books from THE BOOKSHOP INC (@thebookshopinc) in New Delhi and the third as an Audible title.
All three are short story collections. I’ve been waiting to feel a little bored by the now-familiar locales and “types” – small town life in Canada, divorcees, men with wives requiring long-term care, children who’ve been left in the care of fierce relatives – but it hasn’t happened yet.
Several stories have been standout pieces. I’ll mention only one: COMFORT, in Hateship, Courtship … Marriage. The story covers a huge span of ideas within its thirty-odd pages. Different notions of faith, different registers of love, courage in the face of social denunciation. It is so rich and yet also so neatly turned, so well-told.
How easy it is to destroy something – a crystal vase or the reputation of a brilliant author. How much harder it is, to ever make the vase or to become such an author.
We may never know the full truth behind the daughter’s accusation. What we do know is that the mother was a supremely gifted author.
Discovering that she lived with an ugly secret only makes me appreciate her all the more. Like an oyster that creates a pearl out the piece of grit it cannot dislodge, she too could not dislodge an intolerable reality from within the core of her life but instead produced whole necklaces of pearls.
I would say that we owe it to anyone who has had to live with terrible secrets – It could be you! It could be me! – to read her with fresh insight and renewed compassion.
Such a beautiful gesture from your friend!--and a lovely tribute to his generosity!
As for Munro, her FATHER knew the secret and did not say anything for years and years. No one is going after him AT ALL. I don't know squat about squat, but I will say this: it's very difficult to believe horrible things about someone you truly love. It's terrible that her daughter was so betrayed, but the criminal is the perpetrator and those who knew about him. People generally blame mothers more for such things because they hold women/mothers to a higher standard. Brilliant writing, however, is still brilliant, and I appreciate your pointing out particular stories.
Alice Munro is/was my favorite Short story writer. That has not changed.