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Longreads Guest Pick: Pravesh Bhardwaj on Alice Munro’s ‘The Bear Came Over the Mountain’

Today’s guest pick comes from frequent Longreads contributor Pravesh Bhardwaj, who recommends Alice Munro's short story, published in The New Yorker in 1999.
SOURCE:Longreads
PUBLISHED: May 6, 2013

The Eye

[Fiction] From Munro's collection Dear Life: A young girl develops a special bond with her housekeeper:

"I suppose all this was making me ready for Sadie when she came to work for us. My mother had shrunk to whatever territory she had with the babies. With her not around so much, I could think about what was true and what wasn't. I knew enough not to speak about this to anybody.

"The most unusual thing about Sadie – though it was not a thing stressed in our house – was that she was a celebrity. Our town had a radio station where she played her guitar and sang the opening welcome song which was her own composition.

"'Hello, hello, hello, everybody – '"
SOURCE:Guardian
PUBLISHED: Nov. 7, 2012
LENGTH: 16 minutes (4160 words)

Amundsen

[Fiction] A teacher ventures north for a new position:

"On the bench outside the station, I sat and waited. The station had been open when the train arrived, but now it was locked. Another woman sat at the end of the bench, holding between her knees a string bag full of parcels wrapped in oiled paper. Meat—raw meat. I could smell it.

"Across the tracks was the electric train, empty, waiting.

"No other passengers showed up, and after a while the stationmaster stuck his head out the station window and called, 'San.' At first I thought he was calling a man’s name, Sam. And another man wearing some kind of official outfit did come around the end of the building. He crossed the tracks and boarded the electric car. The woman with the parcels stood up and followed him, so I did the same. There was a burst of shouting from across the street, and the doors of a dark-shingled flat-roofed building opened, letting loose several men, who were jamming caps on their heads and banging lunch buckets against their thighs. By the noise they were making, you’d have thought the car was going to run away from them at any minute. But when they settled on board nothing happened. The car sat while they counted one another and worked out who was missing and told the driver that he couldn’t go yet. Then somebody remembered that the missing man hadn’t been around all day. The car started, though I couldn’t tell if the driver had been listening to any of this, or cared."
SOURCE:New Yorker
PUBLISHED: Aug. 20, 2012
LENGTH: 39 minutes (9798 words)

Gravel

(Fiction) At that time we were living beside a gravel pit. Not a large one, hollowed out by monster machinery, just a minor pit that a farmer must have made some money from years before. In fact, the pit was shallow enough to lead you to think that there might have been some other intention for it—foundations for a house, maybe, that never made it any further.
PUBLISHED: June 27, 2011
LENGTH: 21 minutes (5273 words)

Passion

[Fiction] When Grace goes looking for the Traverses’ summer house, in the Ottawa Valley, it has been many years since she was in that part of the country. And, of course, things have changed. Highway 7 now avoids towns that it used to go right through, and it goes straight in places where, as she remembers, there used to be curves. This part of the Canadian Shield has many small lakes, which most maps have no room to identify. Even when she locates Sabot Lake, or thinks she has, there seem to be too many roads leading into it from the county road, and then, when she chooses one, too many paved roads crossing it, all with names that she does not recall. In fact, there were no street names when she was here, more than forty years ago. There was no pavement, either—just one dirt road running toward the lake, then another running rather haphazardly along the lake’s edge.
SOURCE:New Yorker
PUBLISHED: March 22, 2004
LENGTH: 46 minutes (11526 words)