One of the more controversial bits of information coming out along with the revelations, first made in the Toronto Star this past week, that author Alice Munro knew about her husband’s sexual interference with her daughter and chose to say and do nothing about it, is that, as the Star reported, this is something “everybody knew.”

By “everybody” what I think is meant is anyone with any interest in the matter. Including, as further reporting has turned up, Munro’s biographer, her publisher, and other parts of the Canadian media. Robert Thacker, an academic who wrote a biography of Munro, was interviewed by the Washington Post and had this to say in his defence:

“Clearly she [Munro’s daughter, who had told him of the matter] hoped — or she hoped at that time, anyway — that I would make it public,” he told The Post on Monday. “I wasn’t prepared to do that. And the reason I wasn’t prepared to do that is that, it wasn’t that kind of book. I wasn’t writing a tell-all biography. And I’ve lived long enough to know that stuff happens in families that they don’t want to talk about and that they want to keep in families.”

Leaving aside the odd idea that when a family member approached Thacker wanting to make a story public, he saw this as an example of something that families didn’t want to talk about and make public, I want to focus on his claim that he was not writing “that kind of book.”

Hm. What “kind of book” would that be? Here’s the publisher’s description of Thacker’s Alice Munro: Writing Her Lives: A Biography:

This is the book about one of the world’s great authors, Alice Munro, which shows how her life and her stories intertwine.

For almost thirty years Robert Thacker has been researching this book, steeping himself in Alice Munro’s life and work, working with her co-operation to make it complete. The result is a feast of information for Alice Munro’s admirers everywhere.

By following “the parallel tracks” of Alice Munro’s life and Alice Munro’s texts, he gives a thorough and revealing account of both her life and work.

Let’s flag this bit: “working with her co-operation to make it complete.” How much confidence does that inspire that you’re going to read a complete, or thorough and revealing, bio?

But to return to “not that kind of book.” Where had I heard that before? Might it have been when Peter Biskind was attacked for not mentioning anything about Harvey Weinstein’s predatory habits (a pattern of conduct that “everybody knew” about) when Biskind had been writing a book on Weinstein? As I wrote previously: while admitting he knew about these rumours Biskind never raised them with Weinstein, saying “I never asked him about it because . . . I didn’t feel it was relevant to what I was doing.” Not that kind of book, you see.

Well, I’ve said it before. And then again. And then again and again. Munro’s name even came up in one of those earlier posts, and her attempts to “control the narrative” by cutting off another academic who was writing about her. This was not a mistake Thacker was going to make. From the Post story: “Thacker said that he and Munro spoke about the matter in 2008, when they met in a restaurant for an interview. Munro asked him to turn off his recorder.” Which I assume he did. “Working with her co-operation . . .” If you want to see an author raked over the coals, try dipping your toe in the comment thread following the Post story online.

So just to repeat the key takeaway: access always comes with strings attached, which turns the job of biographer into that of publicist. As the old saying goes, if you’re not reading something that somebody doesn’t want you to read, you’re reading an ad.