I heart Lorrie Moore

I finished Lorrie Moore's new novel, "A Gate at the Stairs" this morning. I usually don't write book reviews, because I can hardly ever think of anything to say except "it was good." Sometimes I just recount sections of the book, like "remember that part where she goes through the stones and back in time? That was awesome."

But this book is in my head, and the other option is blogging about the cats (who, by the way, managed to get the drawer so far out that it fell onto the floor while I was talking to Ko last night. Is this normal for cats?). Anyway, this isn't so much a book review as it is a love letter to Lorrie Moore (if you find this blog somehow, Ms. Moore - I love you).

Here's the thing about reading something Moore writes: It makes me want to write fiction at the same time it makes me dispair that I'll never be able to write fiction like her. I've been working on job applications this weekend, writing sentances like "The opportunity to teach at your institution would be a great opportunity," so I think I'm probably right to dispair. When I was a senior in college, Katy had a book of short stories that included "You're Ugly, Too." She was reading it and laughing, so eventually she had to read it out loud so that I could be in on the joke too. It was the first thing I'd ever read of Moore, and Katy and I spent the rest of the year making obscure references to that story (e.g., "Heidi wouldn't complain") that no one else understood.

Since that time I've been reading everything that she's written. I suppose it doesn't hurt that she writes a lot about isolated women in academic settings. But because her writing is so funny I find it a delight rather than being a depressing reminder of my own life. And, oh, the wordplay. I bet she can work a Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle with no trouble.

The main character in this novel is who I like to think I was in college, except that I doubt I was either as self-aware or as funny as Tassie. I'm going to miss her - I can literally say that when I read this book I both laughed and cried. Outloud. Even though I was alone in my apartment. Well, I guess the cats were there too, but they're not people. I haven't lived the spinster life long enough to get confused on that point.