"Prue" by Alice Munro

“Prue” by Alice Munro is a story so uneventful that the tone itself succeeds in providing a layer of characterization for its titular character. A small act of defiance fights its way through the midst of flatness, however, as Prue takes random objects and puts them in a tobacco tin— but she never quite actually does something. It is an act so passive that it can be said that it is too silly, too trivial of an act for Prue to be taken seriously. 

 At first, the story introduces her simply as being a likable character. She also happens to be an expert in helping other people cheer up, and laughs occasionally herself— the fact that the only thing she ever complains about is her name leaves us to wonder if not taking herself seriously is supposed to be a positive side of her. 

 But as Prue barely even reacts to Gordon’s obviously careless treatment of her, it becomes apparent that under her mask of indifference lies a layer of hurt that she knowingly or unknowingly hides. In fact, it's almost as if she told herself to stop feeling a certain way so many times that she ended up burying her feelings deeper than they could be felt. And it isn’t hard to see where she is coming from. The problem isn’t so much in how she treats herself, but in how others do. It’s difficult to treat yourself seriously when everyone else around you doesn’t, either. 

And maybe Alice Munro wants us to know that this isn't only Prue's problem. A woman constantly being treated as a lesser being, who starts to treat herself as such— it sounds oddly familiar. Prue is in the women around us, overshadowed by their husbands, their brothers, and finally their children. Unable to overturn a hierarchy that has existed for millennia, they are silently morphed into the ideal submissive woman before they are given the chance to break out of it.