Mixed Feeling About Doree

After reading Dimension by Alice Munro I must admit that I had some mixed feelings. I was most confused on the character Doree. She seemed to me to be fitting the typical stereotype of a woman who is being beaten but can't seem to get up enough courage to leave her abusive husband. This character mold always irritates me. I completely understand that a lot of times this situation of not leaving the husband seems to happen, but at the same time I would like to see a stronger woman presented in some of the novels telling a story like this. Where is the woman who hits back? Where is the woman who after the first slap immediately packs up and leaves? Why do we always tend to read about these frail women who stay and never get even?

Even though Doree did eventually leave him for good it was not by choice but by law. She left him due to the fact that she had to because her husband was insane and went to jail. And to make Doree seem even weaker the author chooses to make her character continually visit him fully knowing what he has done to her family.

Of course, there are some cases when fighting back may not be and option. However, this is fiction we are reading so I ask the authors to please, just make it up. Give me a women character with enough balls to leave and not stand for the abuse. Maybe if some authors would involve characters like that then it could inspire other real life women in the real life situation to follow after that character and leave.

Alternate Ending, Sort of

I actually like the ending of happiness. I think that Edwin leaving Jack on the mountain smiling an laughing is a perfect way to end. Simple and sweet. So, my new ending isn’t really an ending, it’s a middle part towards the end. It begins just after Jack had written How to be Miserable.


Edwin sat in his cubicle facing the empty walls. Still having not been promoted after all of this to an actual office, Edwin sat in his chair, a blank look on his face. He was thinking of Meg. Thinking of how he missed her, her lips, her essence…but mostly her lips. Since Jenni has left him he had been spending a lot more time at the office, or at the pub. No use in spending time in an empty house with a cat he didn’t even like. As of now though that cat was the only friend he had. May had quit her job at Panderic and moved across the country. She got another job, a promotion, and a new shade of lipstick.

Edwin was miserable. But this was okay because so was everyone else. The world again was the way it should be. Unhappy, full of addicts and consumers, and many who were just as unfulfilled as Edwin.

Mr. Mead called Edwin into his office. “Edwin, I have a new project for you to work on,” he huffed. His ponytail now long and thick, Mr. Mead presented Edwin with the new project. “Panderic, Edwin, is going to be heading in new direction. After the whole What I Learned on the Mountain debacle we have been looking for a new way to make as much money as that book. So I want you Edwin to start looking for the ultimate Children’s Book.”
“Children’s book sir,” said Edwin, an almost mystified look on his face. Edwin did not expect this. He was thinking the ultimate erotica novel, or home gardening book, but not this. “I don’t exactly think I am the one to be handling this new direction.”
“And why not?” huffed Mr. Mead.
“Well sir, with all do respect I don’t even like kids, let alone their books, so why would I be the one chosen to do this?”
“Just do it Edwin. Oh, and I am also going to be starting to work on my auto biography. I think everyone would be interested in hearing about what Woodstock was really like. And who better to tell them, right?”
“uh huh” exhaled Edwin.
“So I will also need your help with editing that.” And with that Mr. Mead motioned Edwin to leave.

Silently Edwin Stood up and returned to his cuticle. When he retuned he found a letter on his desk. The mailman must have just delivered it. Edwin immediately recognized the handwriting. Meg. He slid into his seat and opened it.

Dear Edwin,
How are you? I have been doing well myself, although I do sometimes miss getting coffee delivered to me every morning. I must say that you really surprised me with your wit to make Soiree write a book opposite of the original. Oh, Edwin, I honestly don’t even know why I am writing to you. If nothing else I just want you to know that I didn’t mean it when I said “Razbliuto”.

Meg
P.S. I saw Jenni the other day. She has gained quite a bit of weight actually, and looked a bit ragged.


Right after inserting this I would have the phone ring regarding Jack and Edwin would begin his journey to go and see him.

Self-help or Self-doubt?

Today it is almost impossible to escape walking through the self-help isles in our bookstores. The seemingly never ending lanes now dominate the stores floor and one can find anything, on any topic, from Its Not You, Its Me and Why Men Love Bitches to Shrink Yourself: the Ultimate Program to End Emotional Eating and The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands. These so called “self-help” books are merely wolves draped in sheep’s clothing. They preach to help when nine times out of ten they tend to insight problems rather then cure them. Todays self-help books should be renamed self-doubt books. To illustrate this image yourself walking down one the like fourteen self help isles, just browsing, not really looking for anything in particular, and then you see it. A self-help book titled How to Have a Good Relationship with Your Parents. You pause, tilt your head a bit, and slowly pull the book from its shelf. Prior to seeing this book you never considered yourself to have a bad relationship with your parents but upon seeing this book it strikes. Doubt! Your start thinking that maybe your missing something, maybe your relationship isn’t as good as you think it is. You then read the back cover and discover that you and your folks show none of the “15 signs of a good relationship”. Oh no! Your relationship doesn’t embody one of the 15 signs (and of course there is only 15 possible signs because that’s how many the author says there are) and so that is telling you that you and your parents relationship is a poor one. Self-help books are doubt igniters, creating problems in our minds and lives that we would have never even thought of if we hadn’t of seen the book.

I think Edwin has got the right idea. Most self-help books are crappy, repeats of every other self-help book, whose purpose is more to entertain than to solve. Every person knows how to fix their problems and they don’t need a books help. We have become a nation of dependents. We depend on simple media to help us solve and construe our personal issues. I wait for the day when we will be able to look at ourselves through our own point of view and rely on our own intuition to solve our problems.