There is no perfect writer, of course. (Shakespeare?) But Alice Munro was pretty close to a perfect writer. She has died at 92. I had a note about her in my column in December 2008. Google will not give me that column. But it gives me a post I wrote in 2013, when Munro won the Nobel prize. And I quote that column:

In the December 22 & 29 issue of The New Yorker, I read a short story by Alice Munro, the veteran Canadian writer. (It’s called “Some Women,” and is found here. A subscription is required.) The writing is so good, it is eye-rubbing. It is perfectly simple, without a self-conscious line in it — without an affected or too-fine or overly “literary” line in it. There is no line about which you, or she, would say, “My, what an accomplished line that is.” Instead it is good, honest writing — well-nigh perfect.

After reading that prose, I felt sort of cleansed — as though weights and encrustations and layers of goop had been taken off.

Her obit in the New York Times says, “Ms. Munro’s stories were widely considered to be without equal, a mixture of ordinary people and extraordinary themes.” Here are some more lines from the obit:

. . . Ms. Munro declined to travel to Sweden to accept her Nobel, saying she was too frail. In place of the formal lecture that winners traditionally give, she taped a long interview in Victoria, British Columbia, where she had been visiting when her award was announced. When asked if the process of writing her stories had consumed her entirely, she responded that it had, then added, “But you know, I always got lunch for my children.”

In a much-quoted remark, Cynthia Ozick called Munro “our Chekhov.”

Munro wrote short stories, not novels. She said that she “got” short stories (my word, not hers: “got”). She got how to write them: their rhythm, their shape. When she tried to stretch her stories into novels, they simply seemed too long, she said.

There are some composers who are not symphonists (Chopin, Ravel). There are some composers who are virtually only symphonists (Bruckner, Mahler). People write the music that is in them.

I remember something that Alice Munro said in an interview. She had stopped writing, she said, not because she had lost her ability: but because she was no longer willing to put in so much alone time. In her old age, she had become more social. She needed more company. Less solitude. And writing is a solitary life.

This put me in mind of Paul Johnson. Young people were always telling him, “I want to be a writer.” He would say, “Are you sure? Because that means a lot of time alone. Not everyone is cut out for that. Books and articles don’t write themselves: You write them.”

I’m glad that Alice Munro did. Write those stories.

• Let’s turn our attention to Georgia — the Republic of Georgia. The below, from RFE/RL, is ugly, but important:

Here is something else to view, to take in:

Georgia is a pivotal country. Ukraine, of course, is a pivotal country. If Russia is forced to give up its imperial dreams, it will be good for the neighbors, needless to say. But it will also be good for Russia. National greatness does not lie in conquest and oppression. It lies in other things: freedom, decency, creativity, flourishing.

• In our own country, something that should concentrate the mind:

There are lots of people determined to airbrush January 6. They should not be allowed to get away with it. But are they?

David M. Drucker has written a useful article: “From Lamentation to Adulation: Donald Trump’s Rhetorical Journey Regarding January 6.” The subheading of the article is: “The former president continues to double down on his support for January 6 rioters.”

Yes. He calls them “patriots,” “hostages,” “political prisoners.” He vows to pardon the convicted. I can imagine a scenario: Trump is sworn in at noon next January 20. He immediately pardons his “J6-ers.” The “J6 Prison Choir” arrives at the Capitol in time to sing.

(“I hear America singing,” a poet once wrote.)

• One after the other, GOP bigs troop to New York, to show their support of Trump in his time of trial (a courthouse trial). These include vice-presidential hopefuls: Vance, Burgum, et al. As pictures tell you, some of the supporters are wearing white shirts and long red ties, in imitation of their leader.

Trump, as you know, paid hush money to a porn star in the middle of a presidential campaign.

In the old days, Republicans talked of “family values.” Maybe they meant “family” in the Godfather sense?

I knew Republicans. I was a Republican. If you had said, “How about a guy who pays hush money to porn stars as the GOP standard-bearer?” they would have looked at you like you were nuts.

• A report from the Associated Press begins,

Federal prosecutors are asking a judge to impose a 40-year prison sentence on the man who broke into former U.S. House speaker Nancy Pelosi’s San Francisco home seeking to hold her hostage and attacked her husband with a hammer.

The report further explains,

The attack on then-82-year-old Paul Pelosi, which was captured on police body-camera video just days before the midterm elections, sent shockwaves through the political world.

The attacker was David DePape.

DePape admitted during trial testimony that he broke into the Pelosis’ home intending to hold the speaker hostage and “break her kneecaps” if she lied to him. He also admitted to bludgeoning Paul Pelosi with a hammer after police showed up at the home, saying his plan to end what he viewed as government corruption was unraveling.

Defense attorneys said DePape was motivated by his political beliefs and caught up in conspiracy theories.

You don’t say?

More:

Nancy Pelosi was not at the home at the time of the attack. Paul Pelosi suffered two wounds on his head, including a skull fracture that was mended with plates and screws he will have for the rest of his life. His right arm and hand were also injured.

At the time, lots of people yukked it up about this — yukked it up about this horrifying attack on an elderly man. On Fox News, they are still yukking it up:

You will notice that the lady who is yukking is wearing a cross. Of course. An encapsulation of our time.

• “Roger Corman, Hollywood mentor and ‘King of the Bs,’ dies at 98.” (Obit here.) I thought of Ronald Reagan — who quippingly called himself “the Errol Flynn of the Bs.”

• Saturday Night Live has parodied the state of American education. It is a parody, isn’t it? You decide.

• Louis Langrée has conducted his last concert as music director of the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra. He is a fine Frenchman. We have often heard him here in New York, as the leader of the Mostly Mozart Festival (R.I.P.). He concluded his tenure in Cincinnati with an unexpected piece: the Theme to Mission: Impossible. Writing on his Slipped Disc site, Norman Lebrecht says that Langrée might have been conveying a message: To be a music director, in this day and age, is a mission impossible.

Huh. Maybe Monsieur Langrée will comment at some point.

The Mission: Impossible theme was composed by Lalo Schifrin, who was born in Argentina in 1932. He is still with us, I’m happy to say. Some years ago, he was a passenger on a National Review cruise. That was something: to meet him and talk with him.

Imagine writing a few notes that are known all over the world. I discussed this in a piece a few years ago: here.

I have typed enough. Thank you for joining me, my friends. Catch you soon.

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