I’m reading Lorrie Moore’s latest, Bark. It’s a collection of short stories that are unmistakably her. She has this off kilter sensibility that makes me both raise an eyebrow and relate thoroughly. I’m not exactly sure how she does this.
She’s funny, too. But she writes about sad a lot. One of the most memorable stories I’ve ever read ever, ever, ever, was in the New Yorker in 1997. It was called People Like That Are The Only People Here. It’s about a couple finding out their baby has cancer. It’s a punch to the gut, with some zingers. I looked up the author and have been a groupie since. But the writing in that particular story knocked my doors from their hinges. It has literally stayed with me for 17 years. Like I read it five minutes ago. That’s writing.
I’ve read everything Lorrie. Here’s a link to all of her books. Having this new book makes me feel like I have a secret stash of happy. And like a I do with a good piece of chocolate, I will try and read slowly to make it last.