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I remember having to read The Stone Angel by Margaret Lawrence and feeling much too young to properly appreciate a book featuring the indignities of old age and the misery of looking back on a life full of wasted opportunities.
It was typical of the sort of CanLit (Canadian Literature) assigned in highschool where I lived in the eighties or at least I have the distinct impression that a lot of CanLit books featured the dreariness of lives endured rather then enjoyed, of blocked potential and lost opportunities. Surviving not thriving. (they also tended to have either dreary or disturbing sex scenes)
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