In an exclusive story published on July 7 by the Toronto Star’s Deborah Dundas and Betsy Powell, accompanied by a personal essay by Andrea Robin Skinner, revelations that Skinner was sexually abused by her stepfather, Gerald Fremlin, the second husband of Nobel laureate Alice Munro, have cast a pall over the famous writer’s reputation. The story was reported widely in the international press – from the New York Times and the Guardian, to Le Figaro, The Times of India, and Argentina’s La Nacion – and in the country that has been so proud to have one of its own acclaimed as one of the world’s great short story writers.

In the Toronto Star articles, Skinner reveals that she was sexually assaulted as a nine-year-old while visiting her mother and her new husband in Clinton, Ontario, in the summer of 1976, as well as Fremlin’s sexual abuse that continued until she was a teenager. In 1992, at age 25, Skinner revealed to her mother what she had been subjected to. Munro left Fremlin briefly, but ended up reconciling with her husband and remained with him until his death in 2013. “Alice wasn’t able to sustain being alone and being apart from him,” Sheila, one of Skinner’s sisters, is quoted as saying in the piece. “She told me that she couldn’t live without him.” The drama of the time is described by Skinner as being all about Munro and Fremlin, and after Munro’s reconciliation with her husband, her family’s silence about what they knew and their acceptance of Munro’s choice increasingly left Skinner feeling like she had been sacrificed for her mother’s benefit.

Nine-year-old Skinner told her stepmother about the abuse on her return to B.C., but the family, including Skinner’s father, James Munro, protective of Munro’s growing literary reputation, decided to shield the writer from the knowledge. “I don’t think he could even comprehend (the story),” Skinner’s sister Jenny says in the article, with regard to James Munro. “I try and give him the benefit of the doubt, but it was a huge mistake, obviously. I know he loved Andrea. It was just that he couldn’t go near this.”

The abuse and the betrayal impacted Skinner deeply throughout her life, and when she became a mother herself, in 2002, she distanced herself from Munro and Fremlin, and ultimately her whole family. In 2005, devastated by Munro’s statements about her husband’s importance in her life, Skinner contacted the Ontario Provincial Police with letters Fremlin had sent the family in the aftermath of her revelations in 1992, in which he fully admitted to what he had done, while justifying his actions by calling his young stepdaughter a “homewrecker.”

Fremlin was charged with indecent assault in a Goderich, Ontario, court in 2005, and was given a suspended sentence and probation. While the court case was on public record, and there were whispers (the Washington Post’s headline read: “‘I knew this day was going to come’: Alice Munro associates say they knew of abuse”), it was never made public and the family, out of shame and loyalty to Munro, continued to engage with Fremlin. Munro died in May 2024, and the family decided to come forward with the story.

The article states that Munro’s children want “the world to continue to adore Alice Munro’s work. They also feel compelled to share what it meant to grow up in her shadow and how protecting her legacy came at a devastating cost for her daughter.” Skinner writes, “I also wanted this story, my story, to become part of the stories people tell about my mother.”

While the revelations cast a shadow on Munro’s reputation, will it have a major long-term effect? Certainly for some readers, what Skinner calls Munro’s lack of “moral scruples” will significantly impact the appreciation of her writing. On social media, some who said they find Munro’s style aloof or disengaged have found confirmation of her character, and the reason for her style, in these revelations of her actions. Others said the revelations would temper, but not deter, their admiration for her work.