In one of the final stories Munro wrote, a story told in the first person called “Dear Life,” these were the last sentences: “We say of some things that they can’t be forgiven, or that we will never forgive ourselves. But we do - we do it all the time.”
Thank you, Peter. I appreciate your cogent assessment of how we can separate/reconcile the artists from their art. I taught Munro's work for several years in my Canadian Literature class and these revelations have necessarily changed the way I will be reading her work from now on.
Mary, thank you. You know Munro's work far, far better than I, so I'm very pleased you thought this was a fair and sensible way to approach a difficult question.
In one of the final stories Munro wrote, a story told in the first person called “Dear Life,” these were the last sentences: “We say of some things that they can’t be forgiven, or that we will never forgive ourselves. But we do - we do it all the time.”
Mary, thank you for sharing that. Hard to imagine that such a thoughtful writer would write a pair of sentences like that without full awareness of how they applied to her own life.
Really appreciate this article. It's similar to a dilemma I've wrestled with for a long time, although in my case it's often with regard to the use of hymns in corporate worship that are written by people with moral failures or serious doctrinal errors. I've more or less come to the same point as you - the failures or errors are only relevant insofar as they show up in the song itself - although with the added nuance that in corporate worship leaders should be sensitive to the consciences of their particular congregants when picking songs. As a congregant, I find it hard to worship with songs by contemporary artists who have fallen away from Christ, because it's so discouraging to remember their stories as I sing. Some congregations, without congregants who are attuned to happenings in the private lives of composers, might be able to sing such songs easily.
David, thanks, and I appreciate the analogous example. Your last comment about using songs in a particular congregation adds a slightly different angle. I was focused mainly on my responsibility to the artist and her work, evaluating it fairly, not denying the literary or artistic quality because of personal failings, but also not foreclosing the possibility that the art might sometimes prove colored by those failings. You are in a sense turning me back outward, not toward the artist, but toward the receiving community and the implications my use of the art (literature, songs, etc.) might have for its members.
In one of the final stories Munro wrote, a story told in the first person called “Dear Life,” these were the last sentences: “We say of some things that they can’t be forgiven, or that we will never forgive ourselves. But we do - we do it all the time.”
Thank you, Peter. I appreciate your cogent assessment of how we can separate/reconcile the artists from their art. I taught Munro's work for several years in my Canadian Literature class and these revelations have necessarily changed the way I will be reading her work from now on.
Mary, thank you. You know Munro's work far, far better than I, so I'm very pleased you thought this was a fair and sensible way to approach a difficult question.
In one of the final stories Munro wrote, a story told in the first person called “Dear Life,” these were the last sentences: “We say of some things that they can’t be forgiven, or that we will never forgive ourselves. But we do - we do it all the time.”
Peter, I think the words I quoted from Munro’s ’Dear Life’ in my earlier response affirm the accuracy of your approach to her work.
Mary, thank you for sharing that. Hard to imagine that such a thoughtful writer would write a pair of sentences like that without full awareness of how they applied to her own life.
Really appreciate this article. It's similar to a dilemma I've wrestled with for a long time, although in my case it's often with regard to the use of hymns in corporate worship that are written by people with moral failures or serious doctrinal errors. I've more or less come to the same point as you - the failures or errors are only relevant insofar as they show up in the song itself - although with the added nuance that in corporate worship leaders should be sensitive to the consciences of their particular congregants when picking songs. As a congregant, I find it hard to worship with songs by contemporary artists who have fallen away from Christ, because it's so discouraging to remember their stories as I sing. Some congregations, without congregants who are attuned to happenings in the private lives of composers, might be able to sing such songs easily.
David, thanks, and I appreciate the analogous example. Your last comment about using songs in a particular congregation adds a slightly different angle. I was focused mainly on my responsibility to the artist and her work, evaluating it fairly, not denying the literary or artistic quality because of personal failings, but also not foreclosing the possibility that the art might sometimes prove colored by those failings. You are in a sense turning me back outward, not toward the artist, but toward the receiving community and the implications my use of the art (literature, songs, etc.) might have for its members.