Andrea Skinner was sexually abused by Gerald Fremlin, her stepfather, starting when she was nine years old. The abuse began when she asked to sleep in the master bedroom while her mother, Alice Munro, was away. Fremlin got into her bed and sexually abused her, and the abuse continued for years, including him exposing himself and propositioning her.
Alice Munro initially left Gerald Fremlin and went to their second home on the west coast of Canada. However, she took him back within a month, explaining to Andrea that she loved him too much, was too dependent on him, and felt too old to leave. This decision deeply affected Andrea, who felt her mother prioritized her relationship with Fremlin over her daughter's well-being.
Alice Munro stayed with Gerald Fremlin due to a combination of emotional dependency, a sense of helplessness, and a belief that her writing was her primary purpose. She also internalized a misogynistic idea that it was unfair to expect a mother to sacrifice her happiness for her child. Additionally, her own traumatic childhood and patterns of abuse may have influenced her decision to stay.
In letters to Alice Munro, Gerald Fremlin bizarrely justified his actions by referencing Nabokov's 'Lolita,' claiming he was responding to a 'nine-year-old seductress' and comparing himself to the character Humbert Humbert. These letters were detailed confessions that revealed his disturbing mindset and obsession with the novel.
Alice Munro's writing seemed to take precedence over her personal life, including her response to the abuse. She viewed her art as her primary purpose, often dissociating from real-life events to observe and document them. This detachment allowed her to use traumatic experiences, including her daughter's abuse, as material for her stories, such as 'Vandals,' which directly mirrored the family's trauma.
Andrea Skinner's siblings, Jenny and Andrew, initially tried to protect their mother, Alice Munro, by keeping the abuse a secret. They believed their mother was too fragile to handle the truth and feared it would destroy her. This led to a family dynamic where Andrea felt devalued and dehumanized, as her siblings prioritized their mother's well-being over hers.
Gerald Fremlin pled guilty to indecent assault in a quick court case that excluded the press. The trial was resolved with a one-sentence admission of guilt, and Fremlin avoided significant public scrutiny. Alice Munro, who had initially planned to leave him, canceled her plans after the case concluded, likely due to the lack of public fallout.
Alice Munro's literary legacy became intertwined with the abuse scandal as readers and critics began to question the cost of her art. Her stories often explored themes of silence, trauma, and passivity, which mirrored her personal life. The revelation of her complicity in protecting Fremlin forced a reevaluation of her work, raising questions about the ethical implications of using personal trauma as artistic material.
Andrea Skinner found it particularly difficult to watch her sister, Jenny, accept the Nobel Prize on Alice Munro's behalf. She felt that her absence from the family allowed them to live in a unified reality, further erasing her own experiences and pain. The event highlighted the family's prioritization of Munro's legacy over Andrea's well-being.
Robert Thacker, Alice Munro's biographer, chose to ignore the abuse scandal, stating that it was not the focus of his book. He dismissed the significance of the abuse, claiming that 'every family has a thing like this.' This decision to omit such a pivotal aspect of Munro's life and work was criticized by Andrea Skinner, who felt it undermined the context in which Munro's stories were created.
Rachel Aviv) reports on the terrible conundrum of Alice Munro for The New Yorker. Munro was a winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature and perhaps the most acclaimed writer of short stories of our time, but her legacy darkened after her death when her youngest daughter, Andrea Skinner, revealed that Munro’s partner had sexually abused her beginning when she was nine years old. The crime was known in the family, but even after a criminal conviction of Gerald Fremlin, Munro stood by him, at the expense of her relationship with Skinner. In her piece), Aviv explores how, and why, a writer of such astonishing powers of empathy could betray her own child, and discusses the ways that Munro touched on this family trauma in fiction. “Her writing makes you think about art at what expense,” she tells David Remnick. “That’s probably a question that is relevant for many artists, but Alice Munro makes it visible on the page. It felt so literal—like trading your daughter for art.”