At The Ladies Finger, you can catch me chortling over Munro's win

 In Munro’s writing, generations live and breathe and die in the span of a few pages. Her short stories are celebrated for achieving what novels are charged with achieving and yet rarely do. They are celebrated for lighting up the landscape of our minds and our times. The contemporary novel – that unbearably bloated creation which confuses its desires with its ideas (think Franzen and Freedom) – has nothing on Munro or her form... full story here