thinking again about alice munro

This woman's writing bothers me. It really does. Because it's so darned brilliant, and yet so disturbing and dark. Some of it really does make me feel sick in the soul. And yet. That darkness too is human. And why should what is true be denied? If literature helps us to understand what it means to be human, then to insist that everything must always be bathed with light is surely to misrepresent the human condition, must surely be a falsehood. And if i were to criticise Munro for representing the darkness, than i'd be guilty of exactly the same kind of thing that i hate so much when other people do it to me. Which would be hypocrisy of the highest order.
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