The View From Castle Rock

I was afraid I'd picked a dud for book club. Our turns roll around every 6-8 months or so and so I've usually thought of something that I think everyone will enjoy or benefit from but that they wouldn't necessarily pick for themselves. I hadn't given it too much thought so picked A View From Castle Rock by Alice Munro, a book my mom had loved and passed along to me. I'd tried it awhile back but couldn't get into it so put it aside. I thought having the book club read it would be good incentive. And ultimately it was, but it was a rough time getting there.
Ms. Munro bases these loosely connected short stories on her family's emigration from Scotland to America. She starts with a very great grandfather's journey in the 18th century by boat to Canada. Following stories tell of her pioneering family taming and settling woods. Husbands, wives and children die and someone passes the stories along orally or in journals and letters. Ultimately the stories become more connected to Ms. Munro: her parents meeting and raising fur foxes, her own forray into love and employment and finally her own brushes with death of those most close to her.
About half way through the book I figured out why my mom loved it, and why I ultimately would love it. It's my family history. And just as Ms. Munro's interest in her family history was piqued as she grew older, my interest in the book piqued as generations passed and I started to feel connected to them. I understood the quite austerity of this family of Presbyterians and identified with them. I smiled at their value of education, but not at the expense of hard work.
My grandma happened to call right after I'd finished the book, saying she had been looking through pictures and letters and thought of me. I immediately told her of A View From Castle Rock and said I'd send it to her. It's our kind of story.