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Birds of America: Stories
A long-awaited collection of stories--twelve in all--by one of the most exciting writers at work today, the acclaimed author of Who Will Run the Frog Hospital? and Self-Help. Stories remarkable in their range, emotional force, and dark laughter, and in the sheer beauty and power of their language.
From the opening story, "Willing", about a second-rate movie actress in her thirties who has moved back to Chicago, where she makes a seedy motel room her home and becomes involved with a mechanic who has not the least idea of who she is as a human being, Birds of America unfolds a startlingly brilliant series of portraits of the unhinged, the lost, the unsettled of our America.
In the story "Which Is More Than I Can Say About Some People" ("There is nothing as complex in the world--no flower or stone--as a single hello from a human being"), a woman newly separated from her husband is on a long-planned trip through Ireland with her mother. When they set out on an expedition to kiss the Blarney Stone, the image of wisdom and success that her mother has always put forth slips away to reveal the panicky woman she really is.
In "Charades," a family game at Christmas is transformed into a hilarious and insightful (and fundamentally upsetting) revelation of crumbling family ties.
In "Community Life,"a shy, almost reclusive, librarian, Transylvania-born and Vermont-bred, moves in with her boyfriend, the local anarchist in a small university town, and all hell breaks loose. And in "Four Calling Birds, Three French Hens," a woman who goes through the stages of grief as she mourns the death of her cat (Anger, Denial, Bargaining, Haagen Dazs, Rage) is seen by her friends as really mourning other issues: the impending death of her parents, the son she never had, Bosnia.
In what may be her most stunning book yet, Lorrie Moore explores the personal and the universal, the idiosyncratic and the mundane, with all the wit, brio, and verve that have made her one of the best storytellers of our time.
Willing --
Which is more than I can say about some people --
Dance in America --
Community life --
Agnes of Iowa --
Charades --
Four calling birds, three French hens --
Beautiful grade --
What you want to do fine --
Real estate --
People like that are the only people here --
Terrific mother
From the opening story, "Willing", about a second-rate movie actress in her thirties who has moved back to Chicago, where she makes a seedy motel room her home and becomes involved with a mechanic who has not the least idea of who she is as a human being, Birds of America unfolds a startlingly brilliant series of portraits of the unhinged, the lost, the unsettled of our America.
In the story "Which Is More Than I Can Say About Some People" ("There is nothing as complex in the world--no flower or stone--as a single hello from a human being"), a woman newly separated from her husband is on a long-planned trip through Ireland with her mother. When they set out on an expedition to kiss the Blarney Stone, the image of wisdom and success that her mother has always put forth slips away to reveal the panicky woman she really is.
In "Charades," a family game at Christmas is transformed into a hilarious and insightful (and fundamentally upsetting) revelation of crumbling family ties.
In "Community Life,"a shy, almost reclusive, librarian, Transylvania-born and Vermont-bred, moves in with her boyfriend, the local anarchist in a small university town, and all hell breaks loose. And in "Four Calling Birds, Three French Hens," a woman who goes through the stages of grief as she mourns the death of her cat (Anger, Denial, Bargaining, Haagen Dazs, Rage) is seen by her friends as really mourning other issues: the impending death of her parents, the son she never had, Bosnia.
In what may be her most stunning book yet, Lorrie Moore explores the personal and the universal, the idiosyncratic and the mundane, with all the wit, brio, and verve that have made her one of the best storytellers of our time.
Willing --
Which is more than I can say about some people --
Dance in America --
Community life --
Agnes of Iowa --
Charades --
Four calling birds, three French hens --
Beautiful grade --
What you want to do fine --
Real estate --
People like that are the only people here --
Terrific mother
308 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1998
About the author
Lorrie Moore
62 books2,447 followersLORRIE MOORE is the Gertrude Conaway Vanderbilt Professor of English at Vanderbilt University. She is the recipient of a Lannan Foundation fellowship, as well as the PEN/Malamud Award and the Rea Award for her achievement in the short story. She is a member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters. She lives in Nashville, Tennessee.
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April 25, 2021
De una cosa estoy seguro, Lorrie Moore es una escritora inteligente, muy inteligente, tanto que en ocasiones tal exhibición de inteligencia llega a hacérseme pornográfica. Este hecho, incuestionable, me ha hecho sentir en no pocas ocasiones como alguien indefenso, desconcertado, desorientado. Un ejemplo:
Llegué a espetarle algo que ella puso en boca de un personaje en uno de sus cuentos: “A mí me va mejor con mujeres que trabajan a tiempo parcial”.
Bueno, no es del todo cierto, claro, muchos de sus relatos me han gustado, algunos mucho. Es notorio mi inclinación por los perdedores, por aquellos, como es el caso de muchos de los personajes aquí representados, que en un momento de su vida no se reconocen, que no saben ni cómo ni cuándo se desviaron de su trayectoria ni en qué momento se hizo imposible volver a ella. Personajes que hacen lo peor que pueden hacer o lo único que en el fondo son capaces de hacer o simplemente fue la vida la que les pasó por encima o fueron los demás los que se fueron alejando y les dejaron solos. Gente como tú o como yo, que se aburre, se siente sola o se desespera.
Pero también están esos otros cuentos que no me llegaron. El problema con estos, acabé pensando, se debía a mi inevitable tendencia a buscar el tema, la columna vertebral. Y en esa búsqueda me centré, posiblemente demasiado, en la anécdota cuando el suceso narrado no parecía ser sino un pretexto para las lucubraciones, los comentarios, los chascarrillos, las sentencias y frases lapidarias, aunque, de paso, también me mostrase su incuestionable valía como escritora, su personalísimo estilo. Era eso o volver a sentirme idiota y ya empezaba a estar un poco harto de sentirme idiota. En fin, que tal despliegue de medios al servicio únicamente de ese comentario ingenioso, de esa observación punzante me dejaban frío. Cada frase tenía que ser brillante, cada diálogo ocurrente. Todo ello no hacía otra cosa que transmitirme una cierta sensación de artificio, de juego, de un placer que empieza y acaba con la gran frase, lo que tampoco es que esté mal per se, pero acaba sabiendo a poco.
Los que me gustaron:
Dispuesta . Una actriz de mediana edad quiere huir de la imagen de sex simbol en la que se ha convertido y lo deja todo para acabar sometiéndose a un hombre vulgar.
Uno de los cuentos especialmente humorístico es La agencia inmobiliaria . Una ama de casa que sabe de todas y cada una de las veces que su adinerado marido la ha engañado (“con sus comienzos dulces y apremiantes, y un final agradecido de manos cogidas, lo peor del matrimonio estaba en el centro: era siempre un lío, una ruina, un campo intransitable”) y que acaba de superar un cáncer (“el oncólogo de Chicago le había dado un cincuenta por ciento de posibilidades... ¡qué mezquindad no mentir y decirle que las posibilidades eran de sesenta contra cuarenta!”) decide que el cambio que su vida necesita no es una aventura como le aconseja su amiga Carla (“Las aventuras son para los jóvenes, es como tomar drogas o saltar de precipicios. ¿Por qué querrías saltar de un precipicio? Oh, dijo Carla. Es obvio que no has visto algunos de los precipicios que he visto yo.”) es mudarse de casa... los dos juntos (“cada casa es una tumba... Lo cual hace que mudarse de casa sea una resurrección.”) La casa tiene muchos problemas y prácticamente al final del relato son asaltados mientras dormían. La mujer es quién mata al asaltante, “Dios santo, dijo su marido. Supongo que esto es lo que siempre has deseado: un hombre muerto en el suelo del dormitorio.”
Y, por último, el relato más famoso del libro … y con toda la razón, Gente así es la única que hay por aquí: farfullar canónico en oncología pediátrica . Un andar en la cuerda floja, un caminar por el filo de la navaja, un tour de forcé, etc. Un relato intenso, doloroso, que en manos de un cualquiera podría haber supuesto un fracaso estrepitoso. Una madre descubre sangre en el pañal de su bebé. El diagnóstico: cáncer; el tratamiento: operación y quimioterapia. Soberbio, no digo más.
"… una aflicción en sus ojos, algo triste y perdido que a veces le apuñala: el temor a una vida gastada en vano, o la incertidumbre sobre dónde dejó las llaves."Llego a sentirme idiota con frases como esta. ¿La habré entendido? ¿Sí? ¿No? ¿Es simplemente producto de un capricho ocurrente del momento? ¿Una llamada de atención, un eh, tú, despierta y pon más atención a lo que estás leyendo? ¿Contiene algo fundamental del relato o es pura tontuna? Por cosas así no llegaba a decidirme entre el odio y el amor por esta escritora. Acabé por hacer las dos cosas, a veces al mismo tiempo.
Llegué a espetarle algo que ella puso en boca de un personaje en uno de sus cuentos: “A mí me va mejor con mujeres que trabajan a tiempo parcial”.
Bueno, no es del todo cierto, claro, muchos de sus relatos me han gustado, algunos mucho. Es notorio mi inclinación por los perdedores, por aquellos, como es el caso de muchos de los personajes aquí representados, que en un momento de su vida no se reconocen, que no saben ni cómo ni cuándo se desviaron de su trayectoria ni en qué momento se hizo imposible volver a ella. Personajes que hacen lo peor que pueden hacer o lo único que en el fondo son capaces de hacer o simplemente fue la vida la que les pasó por encima o fueron los demás los que se fueron alejando y les dejaron solos. Gente como tú o como yo, que se aburre, se siente sola o se desespera.
Pero también están esos otros cuentos que no me llegaron. El problema con estos, acabé pensando, se debía a mi inevitable tendencia a buscar el tema, la columna vertebral. Y en esa búsqueda me centré, posiblemente demasiado, en la anécdota cuando el suceso narrado no parecía ser sino un pretexto para las lucubraciones, los comentarios, los chascarrillos, las sentencias y frases lapidarias, aunque, de paso, también me mostrase su incuestionable valía como escritora, su personalísimo estilo. Era eso o volver a sentirme idiota y ya empezaba a estar un poco harto de sentirme idiota. En fin, que tal despliegue de medios al servicio únicamente de ese comentario ingenioso, de esa observación punzante me dejaban frío. Cada frase tenía que ser brillante, cada diálogo ocurrente. Todo ello no hacía otra cosa que transmitirme una cierta sensación de artificio, de juego, de un placer que empieza y acaba con la gran frase, lo que tampoco es que esté mal per se, pero acaba sabiendo a poco.
Los que me gustaron:
Dispuesta . Una actriz de mediana edad quiere huir de la imagen de sex simbol en la que se ha convertido y lo deja todo para acabar sometiéndose a un hombre vulgar.
"Había momentos en que la falta de vitalidad era total, y entonces contemplaba su vida y se preguntaba: ¿Qué he hecho? O todavía peor, cuando se sentía cansada y no podía acabar la frase: ¿Qué?"Danza en Estados Unidos . El más triste de todos los cuentos, en el que un padre y una madre asisten impasibles a la grave enfermedad de su hijo causado por la improbable existencia en ambos del gen que la provoca.
"lo que hay que recordar de las historias de amor (...) es que son como tener mapaches en la chimenea (...) un día tratamos de ahuyentarlos con humo. Encendimos un fuego, aunque sabíamos que estaban ahí, porque esperábamos que el humo los hiciera salir disparados hacia arriba y que no volvieran nunca más. En cambio, se incendiaron y cayeron estrellándose en la sala, todos chamuscados y en llamas corriendo desesperados por aquí, hasta que murieron."Charadas . Desde la perspectiva de una de las hijas, asistimos a una fiesta familiar con el juego de películas incluido (no exactamente de películas, pero sí el mismo juego) a la que todos vinieron con sus parejas y con la esperanza de encontrar el nexo que en algún momento se perdió o que quizás nunca existió.
"De joven fue una madre frustrada y mezquina, y se alegra cuando sus hijos se comportan como si no se acordaran".Junto a esa inteligencia que mencionaba al principio, el otro aspecto sobresaliente del libro es su tono humorístico. Hay mucho humor en casi todos los relatos, humor inteligente, por supuesto.
Uno de los cuentos especialmente humorístico es La agencia inmobiliaria . Una ama de casa que sabe de todas y cada una de las veces que su adinerado marido la ha engañado (“con sus comienzos dulces y apremiantes, y un final agradecido de manos cogidas, lo peor del matrimonio estaba en el centro: era siempre un lío, una ruina, un campo intransitable”) y que acaba de superar un cáncer (“el oncólogo de Chicago le había dado un cincuenta por ciento de posibilidades... ¡qué mezquindad no mentir y decirle que las posibilidades eran de sesenta contra cuarenta!”) decide que el cambio que su vida necesita no es una aventura como le aconseja su amiga Carla (“Las aventuras son para los jóvenes, es como tomar drogas o saltar de precipicios. ¿Por qué querrías saltar de un precipicio? Oh, dijo Carla. Es obvio que no has visto algunos de los precipicios que he visto yo.”) es mudarse de casa... los dos juntos (“cada casa es una tumba... Lo cual hace que mudarse de casa sea una resurrección.”) La casa tiene muchos problemas y prácticamente al final del relato son asaltados mientras dormían. La mujer es quién mata al asaltante, “Dios santo, dijo su marido. Supongo que esto es lo que siempre has deseado: un hombre muerto en el suelo del dormitorio.”
Y, por último, el relato más famoso del libro … y con toda la razón, Gente así es la única que hay por aquí: farfullar canónico en oncología pediátrica . Un andar en la cuerda floja, un caminar por el filo de la navaja, un tour de forcé, etc. Un relato intenso, doloroso, que en manos de un cualquiera podría haber supuesto un fracaso estrepitoso. Una madre descubre sangre en el pañal de su bebé. El diagnóstico: cáncer; el tratamiento: operación y quimioterapia. Soberbio, no digo más.
“Todo el mundo nos admira por nuestra valentía, no tienen idea de lo que están diciendo. La valentía requiere opciones.”¿Y los pájaros? Pues alguno hay en cada uno de los relatos, quizás sea esa la simple y única razón del título, pues su papel no es nunca relevante. Aunque también puede ser que la desorientación que sufren sus personajes en algún momento le recordó a Moore a aquella paloma del poema de Alberti.
“Cuando un bebé tiene cáncer, incluso parece hasta estúpido haber dejado de fumar. Cuando un bebé tiene cáncer, piensas, ¿de quién nos estamos burlando? Pongámonos todos a encender cigarrillos. Cuando un bebé tiene cáncer, piensas, ¿a quién se le habrá ocurrido la idea? ¿Qué desenfreno celestial dio lugar a esto? Ponme una copa para que me pueda negar a brindar.”
July 25, 2007
Birds of America is a story collection by one of the most talented (but minimal) writers around, Lorrie Moore. The stories here are not big or grand or epic, but work simply as little one-act plays, exposing the inherent complexities and dramas in the everyday lives we all lead.
Moore's writing style is subtle, and laced with a fantastic sense of wit; witness, for example, her slight mocking of the health fad craze in the names she creates for juice bars; or her sly commentary about the misnomer of "busy bee" in the story "Whatever You Want, Fine." Added to this wit is a keen sense of what it means to be on this earth and to interact with someone else (I'm being cliche here, because I'm no Lorrie Moore), to have an effect upon someone's life simply because you happen to walk a similar road together for awhile, and it is the way in which she explores this truth that gives her stories the weight they need to avoid being simple comic pieces.
The three best stories, in my opinion, are "Four Calling Birds, Three French Hens," "People Like That Are The Only People Here," and "Which is More Than I Can Say About Some People." The first story deals with a woman who has a wonderfully loving husband and a great daughter, but can't get over the loss of her cat, and so decides to undergo therapy that guarentees to "cure her by Christmas or the last session is free!" The second deals with pediatric oncology in a harrowing and moving way, about the distance illness brings between people, and the last deals with a mother and daughter, on a road trip through Ireland, and the ways in which revelations of character don't end simply because you know someone for years and years.
These are wonderful, wonderful stories, the kind that make you think about your own life, examine it in the ways the characters are examined here, that affirm realizations you yourself have come to or guide you toward ones you haven't, and I don't think you can ask for much more than that from a book.
Moore's writing style is subtle, and laced with a fantastic sense of wit; witness, for example, her slight mocking of the health fad craze in the names she creates for juice bars; or her sly commentary about the misnomer of "busy bee" in the story "Whatever You Want, Fine." Added to this wit is a keen sense of what it means to be on this earth and to interact with someone else (I'm being cliche here, because I'm no Lorrie Moore), to have an effect upon someone's life simply because you happen to walk a similar road together for awhile, and it is the way in which she explores this truth that gives her stories the weight they need to avoid being simple comic pieces.
The three best stories, in my opinion, are "Four Calling Birds, Three French Hens," "People Like That Are The Only People Here," and "Which is More Than I Can Say About Some People." The first story deals with a woman who has a wonderfully loving husband and a great daughter, but can't get over the loss of her cat, and so decides to undergo therapy that guarentees to "cure her by Christmas or the last session is free!" The second deals with pediatric oncology in a harrowing and moving way, about the distance illness brings between people, and the last deals with a mother and daughter, on a road trip through Ireland, and the ways in which revelations of character don't end simply because you know someone for years and years.
These are wonderful, wonderful stories, the kind that make you think about your own life, examine it in the ways the characters are examined here, that affirm realizations you yourself have come to or guide you toward ones you haven't, and I don't think you can ask for much more than that from a book.
March 18, 2021
I don't usually read short story collections but picked up this one for a book club.
Moore's stories are well-written and insightful, and she can write humorous scenes, but overall I thought the book was somewhat depressing. In the end I was left with the impression that it's almost impossible for two people to have a fulfilling relationship and almost everyone is unhappy in one way or another. Though this may very well be true it's still dispiriting to read about.
In some of these stories characters hook up with the wrong people because they're lonely and needy - and then are disappointed.
In other stories characters have dishonest and/or unfaithful partners and have a hard time dealing with it (throw the bum out would be my view - but this may be easier said than done).
One story is about parents coping with a baby who's stricken with cancer. Another is about a woman who was holding a friend's baby when an accident occurs, killing the child; of course the woman blames herself and can hardly go on.
I think my favorite story is about an unhappy spouse who learns to use a gun, then gets to shoot a nutcase who breaks into people's homes to make them sing. For me this was the most satisfying tale.
It's a good book but you'll probably need something light and fun after reading it.
You can follow my reviews at https://reviewsbybarbsaffer.blogspot....
May 4, 2021
I’m not a huge fan of short stories, and I feel like I was rather fooled by the cover of this book into tackling it. I have worked with the Whooping Crane reintroduction program here in Calgary, exercising young crane chicks, and I simply couldn’t resist the pretty cover with the Whooping Crane on it. Plus that alluring title (for a birder), Birds of America. How either the image or the title relate to the stories within remains a mystery to me.
Moore’s stories are rather bleak views of human relationships—told from all kinds of angles but with similar disappointments to go round. As in this dinner party exchange:
I don’t believe I’ve ever had a love affair which ended quite so spectacularly. Apparently, I am doing it wrong.
Moore’s stories are rather bleak views of human relationships—told from all kinds of angles but with similar disappointments to go round. As in this dinner party exchange:
"The thing to remember about love affairs," says Simone, "is that they are all like having raccoons in your chimney."
"Oh, not the raccoon story," groans Cal.
"Yes! The raccoons!" cries Eugene.
I'm sawing at my duck.
"We have raccoons sometimes in our chimney," explains Simone.
"Hmmm," I say, not surprised.
"And once we tried to smoke them out. We lit a fire, knowing they were there, but we hoped that the smoke would cause them to scurry out the top and never come back. Instead, they caught on fire and came crashing down into our living room, all charred and in flames and running madly around until they
dropped dead."
Simone swallows some wine. "Love affairs are like that," she says. "They all are like that."
I don’t believe I’ve ever had a love affair which ended quite so spectacularly. Apparently, I am doing it wrong.
October 11, 2019
The stories in this book hit upon universal themes; loss, loneliness, love, finding acceptance, overcoming fears- in short: LIFE.
There is so much sadness and heartbreak in these stories, but there is also humour. By the end of the book, I must admit I couldn’t recall one truly happy story.
Lorrie Moore is a master of the short story. Each story felt complete. I found her to be very clever with her words.
“ Her mother had given her the name Agnes, believing that a good looking woman was even more striking when her name was a homely one.”
“ Perhaps, she thought, that was where affection began: in an unlikely phrase, in a moment of someone’s having unexpectedly but at last said the right thing.”
My favourites in the collection were: Four Calling Birds, Three French Hens; Which is More than I Can Say; People Like That Are the Only People Here: Canonical Babbling in Peed Onk; and Charades, which is honestly the funniest story as well. ( Christmas family squabbling humour!)
I recommend this book to anyone who enjoys short stories. Lorrie Moore is an excellent writer and will not disappoint you:)
There is so much sadness and heartbreak in these stories, but there is also humour. By the end of the book, I must admit I couldn’t recall one truly happy story.
Lorrie Moore is a master of the short story. Each story felt complete. I found her to be very clever with her words.
“ Her mother had given her the name Agnes, believing that a good looking woman was even more striking when her name was a homely one.”
“ Perhaps, she thought, that was where affection began: in an unlikely phrase, in a moment of someone’s having unexpectedly but at last said the right thing.”
My favourites in the collection were: Four Calling Birds, Three French Hens; Which is More than I Can Say; People Like That Are the Only People Here: Canonical Babbling in Peed Onk; and Charades, which is honestly the funniest story as well. ( Christmas family squabbling humour!)
I recommend this book to anyone who enjoys short stories. Lorrie Moore is an excellent writer and will not disappoint you:)
September 30, 2007
One of my main strategies for dealing with life is, "If I don't laugh, I'll cry."
I think Lorrie Moore's strategy is to make me do both.
I think Lorrie Moore's strategy is to make me do both.
January 9, 2023
Sidra, a minor movie star for whom life has "taken on the aspect of a terrible mistake," Agnes, the failed writer whose meeting with a man triggers a painful flash of clarity. Or even Aileen, who can't get over the death of Bert, his cat; Ruth and her implacable humor, Adrienne, so moving in her distress; Mack, this father who had separated from his child. Through all these characters, a little offbeat, lost, and sometimes marginal, Lorrie Moore paints a portrait of America today.
Oscillating between hope and despair, both crazy and tragic, these men and women, so different, so endearing in their quest for distant happiness, are animated by an irresistible sense of humor. For them, distress is chased away with jokes, incessant puns, bursts of laughter, and mockery.
Oscillating between hope and despair, both crazy and tragic, these men and women, so different, so endearing in their quest for distant happiness, are animated by an irresistible sense of humor. For them, distress is chased away with jokes, incessant puns, bursts of laughter, and mockery.
February 3, 2023
As with any short story collection, I liked some of these stories more than others. I especially liked the last three, as my personal preference runs more toward the 'serious.' But I appreciate the wit in this collection, not many can do it or do it so well. And in each story there are passages that ache with beauty, as beneath the humor, there is pain, survival and even triumph.
Read
April 8, 2023Video review: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z1lmQ...
April 13, 2023
Adrienne gets to accompany her husband, a research economist, to a posh artist-academic retreat where food and studios are provided while you pursue your writing or art with two dozen or so other guests. You must, however, dress for dinner. The seating is carefully arranged for "the cross-pollination of ideas." You might hear words like Heideggerian and ideological while munching salsiccia alla griglia con spinaci, but Adrienne has to gird herself when there's a discussion of peptides and rabbit tests or learning that lobsters have what's called a hemipenis. What the mischief is Adrienne doing there? "I married my husband," she asserts, "because I thought it would be a great way to meet guys."
Ah, you've never spent a month or two at such courtesy colonies? Adrienne is at what I assume to be the rather hoity Bellagio Center (Rockefeller funded) on Lake Como in Italy. There are several such places, not so fancy, of course, in the northeast US, and, indeed, I did time at one some years ago, longing to return to the confusion of NYC where I can really find my own serenity -- without the distraction of other colonists, who all bored me to death and, unlike the Bellagio, where the food was forgettable. I skipped breakfast, which stopped long before I awoke at the crack of ten or eleven, and lunch came in a picnic basket discreetly delivered to your studio. When I heard the put-put car motor of Little Red Riding Hood I'd jump to my desk and start typing. But dinner, where you had to mingle and chat, was fairly unbearable, as Adrienne also discovered. "I don't believe in casual sex," she deadpans to a friend, "I believe in casual marriage." Then I met a new arrival, the novelist Iris Owens, aka Harriet Daimler, and we'd huddle together wondering which guests were screwing each other (there was a lot of that) and down vodkas from the bottle she conveniently toted, which helped digestion.
Moore's story, "Terrific Mother," is Lorrie Moore at her very best. It's a laugh out loud sendup of such retreats or colonies, and I highly recommend to anyone with a conquering sense of humor. Adrienne lands at her retreat, you see, because she accidentally killed a friend's baby---. Ok, I stop here.
Many of Moore's stories deal with some terrible illness or disability: cancer, cystic fibrosis, Down Syndrome or just plain blindness. Death hovers. But her sad-funny writing always prickles. Admittedly, her women are usually depressives or needy, but then dropping a baby on stone is not exactly a fender bender, or is it?
Ah, you've never spent a month or two at such courtesy colonies? Adrienne is at what I assume to be the rather hoity Bellagio Center (Rockefeller funded) on Lake Como in Italy. There are several such places, not so fancy, of course, in the northeast US, and, indeed, I did time at one some years ago, longing to return to the confusion of NYC where I can really find my own serenity -- without the distraction of other colonists, who all bored me to death and, unlike the Bellagio, where the food was forgettable. I skipped breakfast, which stopped long before I awoke at the crack of ten or eleven, and lunch came in a picnic basket discreetly delivered to your studio. When I heard the put-put car motor of Little Red Riding Hood I'd jump to my desk and start typing. But dinner, where you had to mingle and chat, was fairly unbearable, as Adrienne also discovered. "I don't believe in casual sex," she deadpans to a friend, "I believe in casual marriage." Then I met a new arrival, the novelist Iris Owens, aka Harriet Daimler, and we'd huddle together wondering which guests were screwing each other (there was a lot of that) and down vodkas from the bottle she conveniently toted, which helped digestion.
Moore's story, "Terrific Mother," is Lorrie Moore at her very best. It's a laugh out loud sendup of such retreats or colonies, and I highly recommend to anyone with a conquering sense of humor. Adrienne lands at her retreat, you see, because she accidentally killed a friend's baby---. Ok, I stop here.
Many of Moore's stories deal with some terrible illness or disability: cancer, cystic fibrosis, Down Syndrome or just plain blindness. Death hovers. But her sad-funny writing always prickles. Admittedly, her women are usually depressives or needy, but then dropping a baby on stone is not exactly a fender bender, or is it?
November 24, 2012
"The thing to remember about love affairs," says Simone, "is that they are all like having raccoons in your chimney."
"Oh, not the raccoon story," groans Cal.
"Yes! The raccoons!" cries Eugene.
I'm sawing at my duck.
"We have raccoons sometimes in our chimney," explains
Simone.
"Hmmm," I say, not surprised.
"And once we tried to smoke them out. We lit a fire, know-
ing they were there, but we hoped that the smoke would cause
them to scurry out the top and never come back. Instead, they
caught on fire and came crashing down into our living room, all charred and in flames and running madly around until they
dropped dead."
Simone swallows some wine. "Love affairs are like that," she says. "They all are like that."
-------------------
So anyway, the story "People Like that are the only people Here" is great, every word skewered onto the page, and half way through I thought This Is No Mere Story, which Wikipedia confirmed was correct, it was autobiographical. But - the very next story "Terrific Mother" was so awful I thought I had to retire this book for a long time & finish it later. 40 pages of mind numbing couldn't give a flying fcuk about these people. 40 pages about a couple at a retreat for academic writers and the lass goes for a massage regularly and they decide they love each other or they don't and I could care a whole lot more about that.
"Oh, not the raccoon story," groans Cal.
"Yes! The raccoons!" cries Eugene.
I'm sawing at my duck.
"We have raccoons sometimes in our chimney," explains
Simone.
"Hmmm," I say, not surprised.
"And once we tried to smoke them out. We lit a fire, know-
ing they were there, but we hoped that the smoke would cause
them to scurry out the top and never come back. Instead, they
caught on fire and came crashing down into our living room, all charred and in flames and running madly around until they
dropped dead."
Simone swallows some wine. "Love affairs are like that," she says. "They all are like that."
-------------------
So anyway, the story "People Like that are the only people Here" is great, every word skewered onto the page, and half way through I thought This Is No Mere Story, which Wikipedia confirmed was correct, it was autobiographical. But - the very next story "Terrific Mother" was so awful I thought I had to retire this book for a long time & finish it later. 40 pages of mind numbing couldn't give a flying fcuk about these people. 40 pages about a couple at a retreat for academic writers and the lass goes for a massage regularly and they decide they love each other or they don't and I could care a whole lot more about that.
April 21, 2008
I really liked Lorrie Moore's "How To Be an Other Woman" (from the love stories collection I read) but I was not wowed by this book. The stories all seemed very similar - isolated, lonely people (mostly women) dealing with husbands and families and communities. I just looked at the overwhelmingly glowing reviews here on goodreads, and hmm, I just don't get it.
5 stars - "Four Calling Birds, Three French Hens"
4 stars - the joke in "Beautiful Grade" about the professor writing Flannery O'Connor articles ("A Good Man Really IS Hard To Find," "Everything That Rises MUST INDEED Converge," "The Totemic South: The Violent ACTUALLY DO Bear It Away")
-"Real Estate" (I thought I didn't like this one much until I got drunk and analyzed it)
3.5 stars - a mix of "Agnes of Iowa" and "Community Life". I felt like these two were especially similar but nearly great.
-"People Like That are the Only People Here"
2 stars - basically everything else
1 star - "What You Want To Do Fine" and "Charades"
5 stars - "Four Calling Birds, Three French Hens"
4 stars - the joke in "Beautiful Grade" about the professor writing Flannery O'Connor articles ("A Good Man Really IS Hard To Find," "Everything That Rises MUST INDEED Converge," "The Totemic South: The Violent ACTUALLY DO Bear It Away")
-"Real Estate" (I thought I didn't like this one much until I got drunk and analyzed it)
3.5 stars - a mix of "Agnes of Iowa" and "Community Life". I felt like these two were especially similar but nearly great.
-"People Like That are the Only People Here"
2 stars - basically everything else
1 star - "What You Want To Do Fine" and "Charades"
January 9, 2023
I’d read a few of Moore’s works before and not grasped what the fuss is about; turns out I’d just chosen the wrong ones to read. This collection is every bit as good as everyone has been saying for the last 25 years. Amy Bloom, Carol Shields and Helen Simpson are a few authors who struck me as having a similar tone and themes. Rich with psychological understanding of her characters – many of them women passing from youth to midlife, contemplating or being affected by adultery – and their relationships, the stories are sometimes wry and sometimes wrenching (that setup to “Terrific Mother”!). There were even two dysfunctional-family-at-the-holidays ones (“Charades” and “Four Calling Birds, Three French Hens”) for me to read in December.
I’ll single out four of the 12 as favourites, though, really, any or all would be worthy of anthologizing in a volume epitomizing the art of the short story. “Which Is More than I Can Say about Some People” has a mother and daughter learning new things about each other on a vacation to Ireland. “What You Want to Do Fine,” another road trip narrative, stars an unlikely gay couple, one half of which is the flamboyant (and blind) Quilty. “People Like That Are the Only People Here” is so vivid on the plight of parents with a child in the paediatric oncology ward that I feel I should check whether Moore lived through that too. And the best of the best: “Real Estate” (not least because she dared to print two full pages of laughter: “Ha!”), which turns gently surreal as Ruth and her philandering husband move into a house that turns out to be a wreck, infested by both animal and human pests.
Moore is as great at the sentence level as she is at overarching plots. Here are a few out-of-context lines I saved to go back to:
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
I’ll single out four of the 12 as favourites, though, really, any or all would be worthy of anthologizing in a volume epitomizing the art of the short story. “Which Is More than I Can Say about Some People” has a mother and daughter learning new things about each other on a vacation to Ireland. “What You Want to Do Fine,” another road trip narrative, stars an unlikely gay couple, one half of which is the flamboyant (and blind) Quilty. “People Like That Are the Only People Here” is so vivid on the plight of parents with a child in the paediatric oncology ward that I feel I should check whether Moore lived through that too. And the best of the best: “Real Estate” (not least because she dared to print two full pages of laughter: “Ha!”), which turns gently surreal as Ruth and her philandering husband move into a house that turns out to be a wreck, infested by both animal and human pests.
Moore is as great at the sentence level as she is at overarching plots. Here are a few out-of-context lines I saved to go back to:
She was starting to have two speeds: Coma and Hysteria.
In general, people were not road maps. People were not hieroglyphs or books. They were not stories. A person was a collection of accidents. A person was an infinite pile of rocks with things growing underneath.
Never a temple, her body had gone from being a home, to being a house, to being a phone booth, to being a kite. Nothing about it gave her proper shelter.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
March 20, 2019
Some stories are awesome, others are lackluster…but some are awesome...
Like this one
Like this one
November 15, 2019
4.5 rounded down
It took a little while for me to warm to the style but in all honesty there’s not a weak story in this collection. Moore can write dialogue and convey human emotions and her character’s thoughts in a way nobody else can.
It took a little while for me to warm to the style but in all honesty there’s not a weak story in this collection. Moore can write dialogue and convey human emotions and her character’s thoughts in a way nobody else can.
December 4, 2019
I liked this book so much I got two copies because as I recall there were several different dustjackets for the book. I have two different birds....they are stickers...that's the way they must have done it. You can tell what a master of the short story she was by where they (the stories in this collection) were published: The Paris Review, The New Yorker, Harpers, Elle.
April 22, 2020
Nelabai gerai žinau šiuolaikines JAV rašytojas, tuo labiau tas, kurios nėra Strout. Visai nežinojau, ko tikėtis iš Moore. Anotacijoj knyga vadinama jos finest kūrinių rinkiniu; pusę jo skaičiau nei šiaip, nei taip - disinterested. Apsakymai visai nieko, bet tokie sykiu ir apie nieką. Parašyti gražiai, šmaikščiai, apie nesusikalbėjimus, gyvenimiškas situacijas. Tai labai skiriasi nuo LT dramatinės novelės, kur nuo dalgiu įpjautos rankos laša kraujas ir iš ten turi atsekti visą pokario tragediją, sovietmečio absurdą, kaimo gelmę ir vsio takoje. Moore nėra ezopiška, nėra dramatiška, vietom jai patinka paradoksai arba tiesiog liūdni įvykių susidėstymai. Labai panašiai kaip su Munro: skaitai kai kuriuos (kaip man buvo su ankstyvesniais), nieko nevyksta, tik ta labai gerai pakeliama būties įdomybė, skaitai ir nesupranti, kame tas hype'as, bet whatever, gal čia šiaip dėl to, kad nesi baisiai jautrios sielos asmenybė. Nu ir ką!
O tada perskaitai TĄ apsakymą ir pamiršti visus savo "not impressed" įspūdžius. Ir paskui beveik viskas yra vis geriau.
Man taip buvo su Munro, buvo ir su šita Moore knyga. Iki pusės skaičiau greitai ir atsainiai, o tada likusioj pusėj - trys jos apsakymai, tokie gražūs, kad kitų galėjo šiaip ir nebūti.
- Vienam iš tų trijų - pagyvenęs aklas advokatas ir statybininkas tinkuotojas-dažytojas, vis dažniau užsilaikantis pas tą advokatą, skausmingai reaguojantis, kai draugai advokatui aiškina, kaip dažytojas nudažė ne tik jo namą, bet ir krūmus mėlynai (šiaip tai biški aptaškė). Galiausiai jie kažkaip tarsi nejučia susimeta, nebeišsimeta ir pradeda gyvent kartu. Apsakymas ilgas, rodo keletą metų - kaip jie keliauja, kaip į tą santykį įeina daugybė kitų dedamųjų - klasinė ir išsilavinimo nelygybė (entelektualas vs commonfolkas), šeimyninė padėtis (statybininkas turi seniai nematytą mažą sūnų), negalia, šiaip asimetriškas santykis. Skaičiau ir galvojau: kaip viskas būtų persunkta klišių ir standartinių išeičių, jei būtų įprasta pora vyras+moteris. O sykiu ir kaip kitaip aš pati skaityčiau, kiek mažiau ar kaip tik daugiau ko matyčiau. Gražu.
- Antras - kaip mažas vaikas, dar beveik kūdikėlis, suserga vėžiu ir tėvai gulasi su juo operacijai. Just that, tas vienas epizodas iš gyvenimo. Kaip tas epizodas turi pradžią, taip turi pabaigą (nespoilinsiu kokią), tai grynai tik ligos epizodas. Žiauriai buitiškas, čto vižu to poju, bet būtent tuo paprastumu labai skausmingas. Priminė Barneso prozą iš geresnio (ankstesnio) laikotarpio, dar tuo piktumu turi kažką iš Coetzee's. Gal tiesiog tai piktas, persiutęs kartėlis, kuris kyla iš bejėgiškumo, negalėjimo nieko padaryti, kai bent ką nors padaryti taip norisi (nu tai siunti).
- Trečias - kaip jauna moteris per balių draugų sode paima palaikyti jų kūdikį, neišlaikiusi pusiausvyros nukrenta ir.. vaikas žūva. Ir.. ji gyvena toliau. Išteka, vyras akademikas, išvažiuoja į Italiją, kažkokią mokslininkų rezidenciją, sunkiai pakelia visokias Akademines Diskusijas prie stalo. Ir visą laiką gyvenime ją seka tas mažutis vaiduokliukas, jau lyg biški paaugęs; jis nebūtinai yra pačiame tekste - bet mes žinom kad yra, ir tuo žinojimu visas apsakymas ir nuspalvintas.
Tie pradiniai apsakymai - pamirštami, bent aš greit pamiršau, bet tuos paskutinius norisi skaityt vis iš naujo, cituot, atsiminti. Norėčiau dar kada jos paskaityti.
Stiliukas:
Tas apie vaiko vėžį:
O tada perskaitai TĄ apsakymą ir pamiršti visus savo "not impressed" įspūdžius. Ir paskui beveik viskas yra vis geriau.
Man taip buvo su Munro, buvo ir su šita Moore knyga. Iki pusės skaičiau greitai ir atsainiai, o tada likusioj pusėj - trys jos apsakymai, tokie gražūs, kad kitų galėjo šiaip ir nebūti.
- Vienam iš tų trijų - pagyvenęs aklas advokatas ir statybininkas tinkuotojas-dažytojas, vis dažniau užsilaikantis pas tą advokatą, skausmingai reaguojantis, kai draugai advokatui aiškina, kaip dažytojas nudažė ne tik jo namą, bet ir krūmus mėlynai (šiaip tai biški aptaškė). Galiausiai jie kažkaip tarsi nejučia susimeta, nebeišsimeta ir pradeda gyvent kartu. Apsakymas ilgas, rodo keletą metų - kaip jie keliauja, kaip į tą santykį įeina daugybė kitų dedamųjų - klasinė ir išsilavinimo nelygybė (entelektualas vs commonfolkas), šeimyninė padėtis (statybininkas turi seniai nematytą mažą sūnų), negalia, šiaip asimetriškas santykis. Skaičiau ir galvojau: kaip viskas būtų persunkta klišių ir standartinių išeičių, jei būtų įprasta pora vyras+moteris. O sykiu ir kaip kitaip aš pati skaityčiau, kiek mažiau ar kaip tik daugiau ko matyčiau. Gražu.
- Antras - kaip mažas vaikas, dar beveik kūdikėlis, suserga vėžiu ir tėvai gulasi su juo operacijai. Just that, tas vienas epizodas iš gyvenimo. Kaip tas epizodas turi pradžią, taip turi pabaigą (nespoilinsiu kokią), tai grynai tik ligos epizodas. Žiauriai buitiškas, čto vižu to poju, bet būtent tuo paprastumu labai skausmingas. Priminė Barneso prozą iš geresnio (ankstesnio) laikotarpio, dar tuo piktumu turi kažką iš Coetzee's. Gal tiesiog tai piktas, persiutęs kartėlis, kuris kyla iš bejėgiškumo, negalėjimo nieko padaryti, kai bent ką nors padaryti taip norisi (nu tai siunti).
- Trečias - kaip jauna moteris per balių draugų sode paima palaikyti jų kūdikį, neišlaikiusi pusiausvyros nukrenta ir.. vaikas žūva. Ir.. ji gyvena toliau. Išteka, vyras akademikas, išvažiuoja į Italiją, kažkokią mokslininkų rezidenciją, sunkiai pakelia visokias Akademines Diskusijas prie stalo. Ir visą laiką gyvenime ją seka tas mažutis vaiduokliukas, jau lyg biški paaugęs; jis nebūtinai yra pačiame tekste - bet mes žinom kad yra, ir tuo žinojimu visas apsakymas ir nuspalvintas.
Tie pradiniai apsakymai - pamirštami, bent aš greit pamiršau, bet tuos paskutinius norisi skaityt vis iš naujo, cituot, atsiminti. Norėčiau dar kada jos paskaityti.
Stiliukas:
In her life, she had been given the gift of solitude, a knack for it, but now it would be of no professional use. She would have to become a people person.
"A peeper person?" queried her mother on the phone from Pittsburgh.
"People." Abby said.
"Oh, those," said her mother, and she sighed the sigh of death, though she was strong as a brick. (p. 27)
"You assume they're over and gone," said her friend Carla, who, in Ruth's living roomm was working on both her inner child and inner thighs, getting rid of the child but in touch with the thighs; Ruth couldn't keep it straight. (p. 180)
Tas apie vaiko vėžį:
"I cannot believe this is happening to our little boy," he says, and starts to sob again. "Why didn't it happen to one of us? It's so unfair. Just last week, my doctor declared me in perfect health: the prostate of a twenty-ear-old, the heart of a ten-year-old, the braing of an insect--or whatever it was he said. What a nightmare this is."
What words can be uttered? You turn just slightly and there it is: the death of your child. It is part symbol, part devil, and in your blind spot all along, until, if you are unlucky, it is completely upon you. Then it is a fierce little country abducting you; it holds you squarely inside itself like a cellar room--the best boundaries of you are boundaries of it. Are there windows? Sometimes aren't there windows? (p. 220)
The Tiny Tim Lounge is a little sitting area at the end of the Peed Onk corridor. There are two small sofas, a table, a rocking chair, a television and a VCR. There are various videos: Speed, Dune, and Star Wars. On one of the lounge walls there is a gold plaque with the singer Tiny Tim's name on it: his son was treated once at this hospital and so, five years ago, he donated oney for this lounge. It is a cramped little lounge, which, one suspects, would be larger if Tiny Tim's son had actually lived. Instead, he died here, at this hospital and now there is this tiny room which is part gratitude, part generosity, part fuck-you.
Sifting through the videocassettes, the Mother wonders what science fiction could begin to compete with the science fiction of cancer itself--a tumor with its differentiated muscle and bone cells, a clump of wild nothing and its mad, ambitious desire to be something: something inside you, instead of you, another organism, but with a monster's architecture, a demon's sabotage and chaos. Think of leukemia, a tumor diabolically taking liquid form, better to swim about incognito in the blood. George Lucas, direct that! (p. 229-230)
March 20, 2021
Leer los relatos de Lorrie Moore es introducirse en el mundo de personajes de ficción tan reales como los de carne y hueso.
La inteligencia de esta escritora encanta y abruma por momentos, porque no escribe de una forma exhibicionista, complaciente, sino que es cruda y realista, y esto se ve en la forma cómo sus personajes entienden y abordan su propio mundo.
La melancolía que los acompaña hace que uno sienta que en el trasfondo están al borde de una crisis existencial, que la esperanza como definición no existe, solo está la vida, representada sin adornos ni cursilerías.
De este libro hay historias que me gustaron más que otras. Si bien el ambiente casi es en medio de una situación sombría, hay pasajes y diálogos con ingenio, sarcasmo y genialidad que le dan ritmo a las historias.
La inteligencia de esta escritora encanta y abruma por momentos, porque no escribe de una forma exhibicionista, complaciente, sino que es cruda y realista, y esto se ve en la forma cómo sus personajes entienden y abordan su propio mundo.
La melancolía que los acompaña hace que uno sienta que en el trasfondo están al borde de una crisis existencial, que la esperanza como definición no existe, solo está la vida, representada sin adornos ni cursilerías.
De este libro hay historias que me gustaron más que otras. Si bien el ambiente casi es en medio de una situación sombría, hay pasajes y diálogos con ingenio, sarcasmo y genialidad que le dan ritmo a las historias.
March 5, 2015
She's an excellent story writer - this is her best I think. I treasure my signed copy!
just come across some notes on this from a 1998 notebook:
her stuff can hit like a brick round the head. She recounts bruising, tiresome relationships fearlessly, picking the right moments out. Bitterness, the brutality of what we can think and feel, and how we can't forgive ourselves. In 'Real Estate' a death from lung cancer, intertwined with a story of a burglar who makes his victims sing and writes down the words, but can't recall the tunes when he gets home. The singing night, the spaceship like a set of lit teeth in the sky; the page and a half of Ha's! In Peed Onk a community of pain the mother doesn't want to join, but can't help. And the last one about a woman who accidentally kills a baby, marries an academic who is patient, awkward with her, takes her to Italy for a month with other academics. Great stuff.
just come across some notes on this from a 1998 notebook:
her stuff can hit like a brick round the head. She recounts bruising, tiresome relationships fearlessly, picking the right moments out. Bitterness, the brutality of what we can think and feel, and how we can't forgive ourselves. In 'Real Estate' a death from lung cancer, intertwined with a story of a burglar who makes his victims sing and writes down the words, but can't recall the tunes when he gets home. The singing night, the spaceship like a set of lit teeth in the sky; the page and a half of Ha's! In Peed Onk a community of pain the mother doesn't want to join, but can't help. And the last one about a woman who accidentally kills a baby, marries an academic who is patient, awkward with her, takes her to Italy for a month with other academics. Great stuff.
November 7, 2017
The writing is very smart and I like the dark humor, the wisecracks. But the stories themselves are too much alike, the main characters are more or less of the same type and there is not too much happening. Good to read a single story once and a while but not an entire collection.
December 13, 2024
Nadie escribe diálogos tan lapidarios como Lorrie Moore. Van más allá de lo que en apariencia dicen las palabras. Y también están llenos de gracietas ("—Una pastectomía—dijo Aileen—, al pobre Bert lo que le extirparon fue la pasta.") Y creo que nadie pinta como ella el universo femenino de fin del siglo XX; atrás quedó la rigidez moral de las mujeres de Alice Munro. Tan solo con unas líneas de diálogo participas como lectora de múltiples perspectivas sobre la mujer, una mujer en general estafada en las cosas sencillas, en las relaciones convencionales, con los padres, hijos, amigos, amantes: actrices desencantadas y bailarinas en declive, hijas sombrías y madres dispuestas (que buscan de viaje por Irlanda —como en el cuento que más me ha gustado—, el don de la elocuencia), bibliotecarias solitarias y juezas nostálgicas, esposas dolientes y engañadas... Toda una constelación femenina que metafóricamente se encierra en jaulas, que escapa del nido familiar, que se expresa volando libre, que se estrella contra el cristal. Imposible olvidar el cuento titulado Gente así es la única que hay por aquí: farfullar canónico en oncología pediátrica en el que una madre escritora ficciona la circunstancia de su bebé con cáncer tirando de ironía para sobrellevar el duelo. Te ríes y te conjelas al mismo tiempo. Sí, al igual que en el resto de cuentos. La impronta dejada es esa: mucho dolor, pero camuflado bajo el humor.
October 1, 2024
"Hayatta başa çıkamayacağı kadar çok şey yüklenmişti. Tanrı onu başkasıyla mı karıştırmıştı?"
2022'nin Aralık ayında Julian Barnes'ın Penceremden adlı deneme derlemesini okumuş, bir dolu övgü düzdüğü Lorrie Moore kitabı Amerika Kuşları'nı epeyce merak etmiş, Türkçeye çevrilmediğini görüp üzülmüştüm. Bundan sadece birkaç ay sonra, Şubat 2023'te Holden Kitap bu kitabı yayımlayıverdi - edebiyat tanrılarının çağrılarıma kulak verdiği kutlu bir olaydı, mutlu bir şaşkınlık hissetmiştim. Kitabı hemen aldım ama ancak okuyabildim. Sonuç: Julian Barnes haklıymış.
Amerikan edebiyatıyla inişli çıkışlı ilişkimin çıkışlı anlarından birini yaşadım bu kitapla, mutluyum. 1957 doğumlu yazarın somut olarak kuşlar, soyut olaraksa annelik, ilişkiler, yalnızlık ve ölüm ekseninde birbirine bağlanan öykülerini, kullandığı alaycı ama hüzünlü dili, incelikli iç görülerini sahiden çok sevdim. Hikayelerin her birinde muhakkak metinden geçiveren kuşlar var, kiminde bir anlığına, kiminde daha uzun rol alıyor kuşlar ama hep oradalar, kitabın adı buradan mütevellit.
Bu görünen bağlantı. Bir de tematik olan var elbette. Kitaptaki on üç öykünün sayfalarından geçen insanların her biri fena halde yalnızlar. Tuhaf, ruhlarına sinmiş, kalabalıklarla tedavi edilemeyen bir yalnızlık onlarınki. Partnerlerinin yanında yalnızlar, çocuklarının yanında, ebeveynlerinin yanında. Bir tanışamama hali hâsıl tüm öykülerde, birbirleriyle bir türlü tam tanışamamış insanları okuyoruz. Ancak ölümle daha kol kola giden son üç öykü hariç kasvetli metinler değiller bunlar, Moore'un dilinde tuhaf bir alaycılık var, hayatın en karanlık anlarında bile orada bir yerde duran mizahı bulup çıkarıyor, bu da öyküleri aynı anda hem ağır, hem hafif kılıyor.
Bu incelemeyi, beni bu kitapla tanıştıran Julian Barnes'in sözleriyle bitireyim madem: "Onun yaşında biri için 'bilge' sıfatını kullanmakta tereddüt ediyorum. Ama bir yazarın tam olgunluğa eriştiğini görmek her zaman heyecan vericidir. Kanatlarını çırparak havalanmak eğlendirici olabilir ama bir sanatçının göklerde süzüldüğünü görmek insana kıvanç veriyor."
2022'nin Aralık ayında Julian Barnes'ın Penceremden adlı deneme derlemesini okumuş, bir dolu övgü düzdüğü Lorrie Moore kitabı Amerika Kuşları'nı epeyce merak etmiş, Türkçeye çevrilmediğini görüp üzülmüştüm. Bundan sadece birkaç ay sonra, Şubat 2023'te Holden Kitap bu kitabı yayımlayıverdi - edebiyat tanrılarının çağrılarıma kulak verdiği kutlu bir olaydı, mutlu bir şaşkınlık hissetmiştim. Kitabı hemen aldım ama ancak okuyabildim. Sonuç: Julian Barnes haklıymış.
Amerikan edebiyatıyla inişli çıkışlı ilişkimin çıkışlı anlarından birini yaşadım bu kitapla, mutluyum. 1957 doğumlu yazarın somut olarak kuşlar, soyut olaraksa annelik, ilişkiler, yalnızlık ve ölüm ekseninde birbirine bağlanan öykülerini, kullandığı alaycı ama hüzünlü dili, incelikli iç görülerini sahiden çok sevdim. Hikayelerin her birinde muhakkak metinden geçiveren kuşlar var, kiminde bir anlığına, kiminde daha uzun rol alıyor kuşlar ama hep oradalar, kitabın adı buradan mütevellit.
Bu görünen bağlantı. Bir de tematik olan var elbette. Kitaptaki on üç öykünün sayfalarından geçen insanların her biri fena halde yalnızlar. Tuhaf, ruhlarına sinmiş, kalabalıklarla tedavi edilemeyen bir yalnızlık onlarınki. Partnerlerinin yanında yalnızlar, çocuklarının yanında, ebeveynlerinin yanında. Bir tanışamama hali hâsıl tüm öykülerde, birbirleriyle bir türlü tam tanışamamış insanları okuyoruz. Ancak ölümle daha kol kola giden son üç öykü hariç kasvetli metinler değiller bunlar, Moore'un dilinde tuhaf bir alaycılık var, hayatın en karanlık anlarında bile orada bir yerde duran mizahı bulup çıkarıyor, bu da öyküleri aynı anda hem ağır, hem hafif kılıyor.
Bu incelemeyi, beni bu kitapla tanıştıran Julian Barnes'in sözleriyle bitireyim madem: "Onun yaşında biri için 'bilge' sıfatını kullanmakta tereddüt ediyorum. Ama bir yazarın tam olgunluğa eriştiğini görmek her zaman heyecan vericidir. Kanatlarını çırparak havalanmak eğlendirici olabilir ama bir sanatçının göklerde süzüldüğünü görmek insana kıvanç veriyor."
April 14, 2015
To celebrate my one-year anniversary of joining Goodreads, I've decided to read and review one 5-star book from each of the five favorite new reading buddies I've met on GR. First up is
Birds of America
, a collection of 12 short stories from Lorrie Moore. It's a favorite book of my new pal Snotchocheez, a kind, wise, supportive, all-around cool guy.
Now, in 1998, when BOA was released, I was 20. I was a junior in college at Mizzou. I was fed up for life with the academic approach to analyzing literature. Call me simple (and do it slowly, with exaggerated head nods, to increase my chances of understanding you), but I like to read for enjoyment. My holy trinity is plot, character and voice, and that's all I need. I don't care about symbolism, and I don't want to spend an hour dissecting the deep meaning of a single descriptive paragraph.
BOA was a double whammy - a lofty, cerebral book designed to be cherished and studied by intellectuals that is itself densely populated with professors, writers and miscellaneous academic nimrods. It views them with the correct amount of detached irony while still being of the same mind, which to me was a blessing and a curse.
I'm glad I read BOA , and on any given page there were phrases and observations to love, with abundant sparkling wit applied toward a broad spectrum of human experiences. But this book was never a close friend or a page-turner. Its place was more in the lecture hall of my soul than the dorm room or even the dining hall. (I love the dining hall.)
This is a collection of twelve short stories, all but one of them previously published in the New Yorker, Harper's, The Paris Review , et al. The protagonists of most of these stories are restless, unsatisfied women in their thirties who distract themselves with devoted lesser men. Collectively, most of these characters are interchangeable.
Which made me think, when you have a bunch of same-ish stories that feature same-ish protagonists, why not composite them into a single novel? But then I thought, Well, because it's easier to just write a story here, a story there, get two bucks a word to publish them in a lit mag, then re-edit and compile them into a single book, get a fat check from Random House, do a nice little public-appearance tour to support it, then go back to your day job as tenured professor of English at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, where you can assign your own book to your students as required reading and then spend a semester's worth of classes talking about how good it is using nothing but Big Words. Geez, I'm cynical.
BOA gains momentum as it goes, though. The first real break from the same-ish protagonist formula is like four stories from the end, with a vacationing gay couple where one is blind and the other is actually straight, or thought he was. You'll see seriously sick little kids (like, nearing death) pop up here and there, culminating in "People Like That Are the Only People Here," the most heart-wrenching story in the book. That story tunnels further into the human psyche than I could even attempt, and has some bitter belly laughs to boot.
The last story, "Wonderful Mother," begins with its protagonist being handed a baby at a family-and-friends function, losing her balance and fatally dropping the baby on its head. So let me point out - this is the kind of premise the short-story format is perfect for. Do I want to be stuck with an accidental baby-killer protagonist for 350 pages? Nope. Will I spend 40 pages full-on engaged while she marries some professor just because he insists on it, then takes her to this nightmarish European academic retreat? You bet I will.
By the way, I'm 37, I have a bachelor's degree, I'm a server in a fine-dining restaurant, I read a lot of young-adult fiction and celebrity memoirs, and my chances of going to grad school are still hovering steady at about 18%.
Now, in 1998, when BOA was released, I was 20. I was a junior in college at Mizzou. I was fed up for life with the academic approach to analyzing literature. Call me simple (and do it slowly, with exaggerated head nods, to increase my chances of understanding you), but I like to read for enjoyment. My holy trinity is plot, character and voice, and that's all I need. I don't care about symbolism, and I don't want to spend an hour dissecting the deep meaning of a single descriptive paragraph.
BOA was a double whammy - a lofty, cerebral book designed to be cherished and studied by intellectuals that is itself densely populated with professors, writers and miscellaneous academic nimrods. It views them with the correct amount of detached irony while still being of the same mind, which to me was a blessing and a curse.
I'm glad I read BOA , and on any given page there were phrases and observations to love, with abundant sparkling wit applied toward a broad spectrum of human experiences. But this book was never a close friend or a page-turner. Its place was more in the lecture hall of my soul than the dorm room or even the dining hall. (I love the dining hall.)
This is a collection of twelve short stories, all but one of them previously published in the New Yorker, Harper's, The Paris Review , et al. The protagonists of most of these stories are restless, unsatisfied women in their thirties who distract themselves with devoted lesser men. Collectively, most of these characters are interchangeable.
Which made me think, when you have a bunch of same-ish stories that feature same-ish protagonists, why not composite them into a single novel? But then I thought, Well, because it's easier to just write a story here, a story there, get two bucks a word to publish them in a lit mag, then re-edit and compile them into a single book, get a fat check from Random House, do a nice little public-appearance tour to support it, then go back to your day job as tenured professor of English at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, where you can assign your own book to your students as required reading and then spend a semester's worth of classes talking about how good it is using nothing but Big Words. Geez, I'm cynical.
BOA gains momentum as it goes, though. The first real break from the same-ish protagonist formula is like four stories from the end, with a vacationing gay couple where one is blind and the other is actually straight, or thought he was. You'll see seriously sick little kids (like, nearing death) pop up here and there, culminating in "People Like That Are the Only People Here," the most heart-wrenching story in the book. That story tunnels further into the human psyche than I could even attempt, and has some bitter belly laughs to boot.
The last story, "Wonderful Mother," begins with its protagonist being handed a baby at a family-and-friends function, losing her balance and fatally dropping the baby on its head. So let me point out - this is the kind of premise the short-story format is perfect for. Do I want to be stuck with an accidental baby-killer protagonist for 350 pages? Nope. Will I spend 40 pages full-on engaged while she marries some professor just because he insists on it, then takes her to this nightmarish European academic retreat? You bet I will.
By the way, I'm 37, I have a bachelor's degree, I'm a server in a fine-dining restaurant, I read a lot of young-adult fiction and celebrity memoirs, and my chances of going to grad school are still hovering steady at about 18%.
May 1, 2021
Lorrie moore me vuelve a dejar sobrecogido con su peculiar manera de escribir.Con esa combinación de humor negro, dolor e inteligencia, nos narra la vida de personajes solitarios y perdidos, que se van diluyendo en el gran sueño americano, debido a sus decisiones, o a su mala suerte del destino. Siempre con la sensación de no ser protagonistas de sus vidas.Sin entrometer la moralidad o algún juicio social, nos muestra esa colección de accidentes que son.
De mis relatos favoritos mencionaré 5:
-Que es más de lo que puedo decir de ciertas personas
-Danza en Estados Unidos
-Charadas
-La agencia inmobiliaria
Y el último, pero que más me removió y leí con el corazón estrujado:
-Gente así es la única que hay por aquí.
Mi nuevo estupefaciente
De mis relatos favoritos mencionaré 5:
-Que es más de lo que puedo decir de ciertas personas
-Danza en Estados Unidos
-Charadas
-La agencia inmobiliaria
Y el último, pero que más me removió y leí con el corazón estrujado:
-Gente así es la única que hay por aquí.
Mi nuevo estupefaciente
December 28, 2010
Lorrie “Morbid” Moore’s book of stories were bleak and foreboding, but they appealed to me more than I’d have thought. She is a very talented writer. It’s always appreciated when you can go deep into the heads of characters to discover those remote yet recognizable elements of the way we humans can be. It’s not like the stories are relentlessly dark. There’s even some humor at times – good, sharply observed stuff. It’s just drearier in tone than I’m used to enjoying, so it surprised me when I did.
December 18, 2017
Beautiful stories, obviously. This is also the book that everyone says YOU MUST READ THIS. So, of course I am resistant to it. I did like it, but I also felt like each story hit a similar note...which is probably a good thing for a collection, but is a bad thing for a reader. All of her stories (in here, nowhere else) have this feeling of spending a day in a musty house to me...not sure if that makes sense.
February 5, 2022
This was a unique collection of short stories. The characters and scenes were well-written, and they ranged from everyday slices-of-life, to tragic, to surrealistic. I listened to the audio, and I can say the narrator spending what seemed like several minutes letting loose a barrage of sobbing laughter was one of the strangest things I've ever heard in an audiobook. I really don't think I'd like to hear it again, honestly.
September 4, 2022
Astute, witty, delightful, sincere, and at times painfully heartfelt; Moore's writings have a pleasantly gentle manner of charting life's subtle peculiarities.
This was my first from Moore, and it's definitely encouraged to check out more of their work.
_______
Reading updates.
This was my first from Moore, and it's definitely encouraged to check out more of their work.
_______
Reading updates.
April 21, 2018
I loved three of the stories in this collection: "Charades," about familial aggressions played out over a holiday game, "What You Want to Do Fine," about the breakdown of a romance between two men on endless road trip vacations across the US, and "Four Calling Birds, Three French Hens," about a married mother mourning her dead cat - which, despite sounding like it would mostly be sad, is also so deadpan funny that I laughed until I cried at one point.
I would say that I enjoyed reading about nine out of twelve stories, which is pretty good for a bigger story collection. My feeling about Birds of America reflects my feeling about Lorrie Moore's work in general. Mostly, it strikes me as funny and spot-on in terms of human oddness and and vulnerabilities, but sometimes her writing crosses over into too much quirk (contrivance?) to be relatable.
Note: I have not read this two times, I have read it once. Goodreads will not let me change it back from read twice. WTF, Goodreads.
I would say that I enjoyed reading about nine out of twelve stories, which is pretty good for a bigger story collection. My feeling about Birds of America reflects my feeling about Lorrie Moore's work in general. Mostly, it strikes me as funny and spot-on in terms of human oddness and and vulnerabilities, but sometimes her writing crosses over into too much quirk (contrivance?) to be relatable.
Note: I have not read this two times, I have read it once. Goodreads will not let me change it back from read twice. WTF, Goodreads.
Read
May 18, 2024Somewhere in the ether exists a yellow-greenish, decade-old photo of me happily showing off an autographed copy of Birds of America. Somehow the copy of Autobiography of Red that Anne Carson signed to my alter ego is the one I no longer own. Life is full of inexplicable twists.
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