As I mentioned a couple posts ago, I recently rediscovered the writings of Alice Munro, specifically, a book of short stories called Open Secrets. As soon as I began reading, I knew I was in for a special treat. I tried to pace myself, but I found it near impossible to finish one story and not turn the page and start the next. I would also be hard pressed to say which one of these eight stories was my favorite of the lot. Each one is loosely connected through their setting, which take place, to some extent, in Carstairs, a small Albertan town.

The stories feature women harboring secrets, their lives shadowed by deceptions, both real and imagined. Munro effortlessly mixes reality with illusion, sometimes not letting the reader know which is which, and what matters is not what’s real or what isn’t, or when someone is telling the truth or lies, but the beauty of the stories themselves. Munro doesn’t bother with fancy writing tricks – she doesn’t need them. Her use of language, characters and emotions is sublime and her stories are exquisite, like snowflakes, each one so simple, yet so intricate and unique.

Open Secrets was also a triple-challenge threat, allowing me to make a notch in the Book Awards Reading Challenge, the Canadian Book Challenge and the Short Story Reading Challenge. Woohoo!