When I found out I'd be moving to southwest Ontario, I thought I should finally read some Alice Munro and probably start with her first collection. It took a few tries, but I eventually got past the first story after about a year and was already settled in Ontario.
The prose, I suppose, is near flawless, but there's a such thing as being too quiet. Never thought I'd say it, but I am saying it. The collection reminds me a bit of Eudora Welty's stories minus all emotion and minus all reason for existing. I need story to balance the ability to craft a sentence. I NEED STORY.
In the end, it was all just a big shrug to me and a bunch of "why should I care?" on top of that. Maybe I'll try a later collection, but maybe not.