Lorrie Moore, I think, has some really nice lines. For example, from “How”:
He is living rooms and turkey and mantels and Vicks, a nip at the collarbone and you do a slow syrup sink into those arms like a hearth, into those living rooms, well hello Mary Lou.
Personally, I think that’s pretty compelling. It conjures up images of domesticity and comfort and a quintessential American middle class life. Or, take this from “How to Talk to Your Mother (Notes)”:
Think about your mother. Sometimes you confuse her with the first man you ever loved, who ever loved you, who buried his head in the pills of your sweater and said magnificent things like “Oh god, oh god,” who loved you unconditionally, terrifically, like a mother.
This quote implies lots of things about what a mother ideally is like, and its similarities with first love, and also the intensity of these experiences, free of disillusionment. By themselves, these sort of snippets already have emotions attached and a certain amount of impact. The thing is, though, I feel, is that Moore tries to do this way too often, and ends up with stories full of interchangeable lines. Sure, there are some things that would need to stay consistent in order for the story to retain its plot, but so much could be moved around and the story would still keep its feeling. In a way, it seems a bit uninspired.
Speaking of uninspired, another descriptor that I think could fit Moore’s writing (at least in Self-Help), would be lifeless. Her characters are often in perhaps relatable situations (divorce, infidelity, death or sickness of a loved one, etc.), and yet they’re sort of unrelatable. Sure, you can recognize the similarities in your experiences and theirs, and perhaps even shared feelings, but you can’t really feel for them much. There isn’t a whole lot of sympathy you can give them. Maybe it’s because they seem just a slightly bit detestable?
Sometimes I get a bit confused because I’m not sure of Moore’s intentions. I’m not certain if she’s purposefully making her characters pretentious or apathetic or dislikable, and is trying to say something with that, or if she just doesn’t mind and doesn’t really have anything more interesting to say. I suppose it might be similar to being an English teacher and trying to find deeper meanings in your students’ work. Most of the time, in that case, though, there really isn’t anything to find, and the student is astonished when the teacher somehow manages to draw some obscure connections into something meaningful (I’m mainly thinking of Dr. E to be honest).
If you’re the sort of person who brings up things like your partner not knowing what supercilious means or who Coriolanus is in efforts to make them seem lesser, you can take a hike. Same if you care more about the ‘art’ and ‘creativity’ and ‘intelligence’ and ‘defiance’ of your death than actually planning it out well and self-reflecting on what you really want and why you’re really doing what you’re doing. I mean, yeah, I guess I’m also offended by how Moore portrays her characters. Usually, in books, you might have main characters who seem sort of morally corrupt or unlikable or what have you, but they also have some redeemable qualities. Or, the author is skilled enough to make us aware of their intentions and sympathize with the main character.
I guess it’s just a strange experience reading this different stuff.
