The Power of the Ordinary: A Review of ‘Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage’

The Power of the Ordinary

When I reach for a novel, I’m usually chasing a twist that knocks the wind out of me, an emotional gut punch, or a story so suspenseful I completely lose track of time. So after finishing this book, I found myself… kind of underwhelmed. The characters were a bit too quiet, and the intricate descriptions dragged me down rather than pulling me in. I just couldn’t quite latch on to their lives at first.

But then, a few days later, something shifted. I started to notice the way her stories had burrowed into my thoughts, resurfacing in little moments. Turns out, what seemed ordinary on the surface was quietly profound underneath. Munro isn’t interested in drama for drama’s sake—she’s looking at the soft, pulsing heart of life itself. And somehow, she made me look at mine too.

Glimpses of Life

The title of this collection comes from one of those childhood games that pretend to predict your romantic destiny. It’s charming in that wistful, innocent way, like fate can be teased out of scraps of paper. But Munro’s stories? They remind us, gently but firmly, that life doesn’t play by such neat rules. In these nine pieces, people lose partners, stumble across past loves, and navigate new ones—sometimes in nursing homes, of all places.

She captures those moments when life blindsides us—grief, joy, regret—all tangled together. Her storytelling flows between past and present with such ease, it’s like time isn’t a line but a loop. You don’t read her stories so much as you live in them for a while. And somehow, you feel like you’ve known her characters forever, even if you just met them five pages ago.

From the Ordinary to the Extraordinary

There’s something quietly magical about how Munro can take a completely unremarkable character—someone you might pass on the street without noticing—and make their life shimmer with meaning. She’s not showing off with flashy prose or high-concept plots. She’s digging into the mess and beauty of what it means to be human.

In her hands, the mundane becomes meaningful. You recognize your own fears, your awkward moments, your little triumphs in these people. And suddenly, the ordinary starts to feel kind of… extraordinary.

A Mirror to Reality

What Munro does so well—maybe better than almost anyone—is shine a soft light on the tiny, overlooked bits of human relationships. She doesn’t sugarcoat anything, and that’s part of what makes it feel so real.

Her characters aren’t neat or tidy. They mess up. But in their flaws, we see ourselves—and that stings, but also comforts. Munro doesn’t wrap things up with a bow. Her stories often just… stop. Like a window closing, while life on the other side keeps going.

A Quiet Strength

What I didn’t get at first—but eventually grew to admire—is how Munro manages to explore such universal themes through these hushed, slow-burning stories. These aren’t beautiful stories in a glossy, fairy-tale sense. They’re beautiful because they’re real. Messy. Deeply felt.

Reading this book is like finding a soft place to land during one of life’s lonelier chapters. It reminds you that no matter how strange or separate your own path feels, you’re never truly alone. And in that quiet realization, Munro’s genius really shines.

A Personal Reflection

When I first picked it up, I’d heard Munro’s name enough times to know she was someone worth reading, so I gave it a shot. And what I found wasn’t drama in the traditional sense—but life, distilled and laid bare in its rawest, most beautiful form.

I’ll admit, it took me a couple stories to really get into the rhythm. But once I tuned into her frequency, I couldn’t stop reading. I found myself thinking about the characters long after I’d finished their stories—wondering what became of them, as if they were real people I’d met somewhere.

What I also appreciated was how unflinchingly real her characters are. They’re messy, flawed, often frustrating. But there’s no sugarcoating here—just honest, nuanced portraits of people trying to make sense of life in all its beautiful, heartbreaking complexity.

If you’re looking for a book that holds a mirror up to the subtle emotional currents of everyday life, this is it. It’s not loud or flashy—but it stays with you. And honestly, those are the stories I end up cherishing most.

So if you’re in the mood for something thoughtful and quietly powerful, give this one a read. Just be ready for it to linger.

My Favorite Alice Munro Books (So Far)

If you’re new to Alice Munro or just looking to dive deeper into her work, here are three of her books I’d absolutely recommend—each one a quiet powerhouse in its own way.

1. Dear Life

This is a collection of stories, but the last four pieces are especially striking because they’re semi-autobiographical. There’s something intimate and raw about them, like you’re being let in on something personal she’s never said out loud before.

2. Runaway

If you’re looking for stories that linger in your mind long after you finish them, Runaway delivers. The women in these stories are complicated, sometimes hard to love—but that’s what makes them feel so real.

3. The Beggar Maid (or Who Do You Think You Are?)

This book feels a bit different—it follows the life of one character, Rose, across interconnected stories. Think of it like a puzzle where each story is a piece that slowly forms a full picture. It’s sharp, sometimes funny, sometimes painful, and deeply observant. You really get to sit with a character and watch her evolve, flaws and all.