Alice Munro - Writing Her Lives

came to visit, keeping her from the novel. When she returned to it, she discovered it was not working. More than that, she sees this time as a “bleak period” in her life as a writer, noting that “you don’t like to tell anybody about it.” 46 Looking at “The Death of a White Fox” now, what is most interesting about this manuscript is the way Munro drew on its various details and motifs in her subsequent writing: elements of “Boys and Girls,” “Images,”
Lives of Girls and Women
, “Chaddeleys and Flemings,” as well as others are readily visible here. And though intended as a novel, and pursued in just that way for some time, “The Death of the White Fox” demonstrates that Munro’s imagination has long seemed most fixed on the story form, that the broader canvas and single narrative of the traditional novel have consistently eluded her. Rather, Munro has created novelistic effects in her use of shorter forms, a method that has become ever more pronounced as her career has progressed.

    Though the late 1950s was a frustrating time for Munro, she continued to pursue possibilities through Robert Weaver. In early 1958, for example, he wrote her about including one of her stories in an anthology he was editing for Oxford University Press and wondered about the progress of her novel. He had heard about her work on it from Robert Harlow in Vancouver and suggested that he might “broadcast or publish a chapter.” He offers to suggest publishers for the novel and asks, “Did you have any luck with the English magazines I mentioned to you?” Late that year Weaver orchestrated Munro’s first application for a grant from the newly formed Canada Council in support of her writing. She wanted to use the money to pay for babysitting. He arranged for applicationforms, suggested people who would be willing to write letters of recommendation, and then contacted them himself. At one point he writes Munro that he’s “glad you don’t mind my interfering” with this matter. At this time too Weaver was encouraging Munro to apply to another new body, the Humanities Research Council of Canada – something she apparently did, though there is no record of an application.
    Although Munro’s application to the Canada Council proved unsuccessful, this episode reveals Weaver’s utter willingness to work on Munro’s behalf and, as well, it reveals Munro herself in early 1959. In December 1958 Weaver telegraphs Munro that he has arranged letters of support for her application from Murdo MacKinnon (the Western English professor who recruited her for Honours English), Milton Wilson (literary editor,
Canadian Forum)
, and Weaver himself. He also said that no one was available to write from
Chatelaine
, owing to staff changes, and he suggested that she approach George Woodcock, who “knows your work and would probably write from Vancouver if you wish.” Just then, Woodcock was founding the magazine
Canadian Literature
– it began publication in 1959. A few days after the new year, Munro wrote back to Weaver:
    I got your telegram suggesting George Woodcock. Do you know I very carefully composed a letter, feeling that since I hadn’t met him I couldn’t really phone, and I put it in an envelope, sealed and addressed it, and then I simply couldn’t send it. This is rather peculiar and hard to explain. In fact I can’t explain it. I suppose I felt I had no right to ask him. Or I was afraid of being turned down, which would bother me a good deal because I respect his opinion. I felt I was weakening my chances by not asking him but I could not do it. The truth is I would probably have been unable to bring myself to ask anybody, when it came right down to it. This is pretty stupid, because basically I don’t feel so worthless and undeserving as all that. But thanks anyway.
    When he replies to this, Weaver says that he is “sorry you didn’t approach Woodcock” since “there was no reason for you to be shy. I’msure that he would have been quite prepared to write a letter for you; if I had thought that shyness might keep you from getting in touch with him I would have sent him a wire myself and I’m sorry now that I didn’t do it.” Weaver continues to say that “three letters should be sufficient if the Council feels any sympathy for your application.” They apparently did not: she did not get the grant.
    In the same letter in which she describes not approaching Woodcock, Munro remarks that she “had