More Lorrie Moore: ten years and worth the wait A Contrary review by Shaindel Beers A Gate at the Stairs Lorrie Moore 2009, Knopf Lorrie Moore is a writer’s writer, with a cult following that has inspired a Facebook Fan Group named “Hey, Lorrie Moore! Please publish a new book for us this decade!” and a review by Tao Lin entitled, “Lorrie Moore Destroying Relationships,” in which Lin admits to cutting ties with anyone in his life who doesn’t love Lorrie Moore. If Republicans want to believe that there are death panels in Obama’s proposed health bill, perhaps liking Lorrie Moore should be the deciding factor. “Are you a Lorrie Moore fan?” “Who?” “Dead!” I, personally, think that would be a fine arrangement. Moore’s novel A Gate at the Stairs should solidify her status as one of the greatest living American writers. In her previous five books, Moore has fallen prey to two main criticisms, (1) that she is more of a short story writer than a novelist, and (2) that she is “too funny for her own good.” Both of these critiques are not without some merit, however. Moore’s book Anagrams, which is categorized as a novel, can seem more like a short story collection, and Moore, with her acerbic wit, is perhaps the funniest writer writing today. But Moore’s humor is necessary to make it through the bleak realities of her stories—which include pediatric cancer wards, children with cystic fibrosis, and less traumatic bleak realities like unrequited love. Moore is a writer who understands human nature, and much of human nature is not pretty. A Gate at the Stairs follows Tassie Keltjin, a college freshman, through the second half of her first year of college as she spends her January and spring term working as a nanny for an adoptive couple. Tassie is new to the larger world off her family’s potato farm, and much of Moore’s signature humor comes from Tassie’s innocence and awkwardness at navigating her new life. Tassie’s first meeting with Sarah Brink, her employer, is a scene that illustrates Moore’s skills perfectly: “Oh, for the love of God, look at these poor dogs,” she said. We stood there, watching. The dogs next door were being kept in the yard by an invisible electric fence. One of them, a German Shepherd, understood the fence but the other one, a little terrier, did not. The German Shepherd would get a game of chase going around the yard, and lead the terrier right to the electrified border and then stop short, leaving the terrier to barrel on ahead into the electricity. The stunned terrier would then come racing back, shrieking with pain. This amused the German Shepherd, who continued to do this, and the shocked terrier, desperate for play, would forget, and get started again, and barrel on into the electricity again, yowling. “This has been going on for a month,” said Sarah. “Reminds me of dating,” I said, and Sarah spun her head, to size me up again . . . Heat flew to my face. Dating? What did I know of it? 
 The first half of the novel might drag for some readers. Fans of Moore’s writing will be buoyed along by her uncanny insight into human nature and her rapier wit, but much of the first half involves Tassie’s self-discovery as she begins spending time with a family not her own, grows accustomed to the loneliness of college apartment life, and revels in the attentions of her first college boyfriend. This novel, divided into five parts, hits an unstoppable stride in the third section, when Tassie’s life begins to unravel at breakneck speed. Revealing any one of these events would spoil the novel for a reader, but I can assure you, from this point on, the previously sometimes sleepy novel is a tour de force. There is an old writing adage, “Things can always get worse,” which writers are supposed to keep in mind to heighten tension in their novels. The theory is that once readers are attached to a character, they will become more and more attached as the character alternately is knocked down by and triumphs over hardships. Moore uses this theory with textbook exactness; the first half of the novel is devoted to readers becoming enamored with Tassie, the goofy, unsure country girl who is new to campus, and the second half is spent watching Tassie overcome more hardships in less than a semester than one should have to deal with in a lifetime. Tassie’s adeptness at describing these moments is profound: I went on two geology field trips, both times as a quasi-zombie . . . I was reduced. I was barely there. When misfortune accumulated, I could feel now, it strafed you to the thinness of a nightgown, sheared you to the sheerness of a slip: Light seemed to shine right through your very hands, your blood no longer red: your skin in the breeze left billowing like a jellyfish. Your float through the day had the reality of a trance, triggering distant memories though not actually very many. The passing of time was the lightest of brushes. Life was ungraspable because it would not stay still. It skittered and blew. It was a mound of random trash, even as you moved through the hours like a ghost briefly invited to enjoy a sparkling day at the beach. Readers who stick with A Gate at the Stairs to the end will not be disappointed. I hope that Lorrie Moore doesn’t take another decade to grace us with another novel, but if she does, my bet is it will be well worth the wait. Shaindel Beers is Contrary’s poetry editor. Index of Reviews...>Reviews.htmlshapeimage_1_link_0
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AUTUMN 2009 COVER THE EMPTY ARMCHAIR CYNTHIA NEWBERRY MARTIN DARWIN: THREE POEMS MARILYN KALLET WINTER MICHELLE CACHO-NEGRETE TRAVELOGUE HILARY DOBEL DON’T BREATHE, DON’T DIE RAMESH AVADHANI NO FURTHER NEED FOR NICETIES EDWARD MC WHINNEY ON A DRY STREET MRB CHELKO FROM THE EDITOR REVIEWS J.M. COETZEE LORRIE MOORE MOLLY HASKELL RAYMOND ARSENAULT MARK RAYNER THE WATCHFUL HEARTAutumn-2009.htmlArmchair.htmlArmchair.htmlDarwin.htmlDarwin.htmlWinter.htmlWinter.htmlTravelogue.htmlTravelogue.htmlBreathe.htmlBreathe.htmlNiceties.htmlNiceties.htmlDry_Street.htmlDry_Street.htmlRobinson_Jeffers.htmlReviews.htmlCoetzee-2.htmlHaskell.htmlArsenault.htmlRayner.htmlWatchful_Heart.htmlshapeimage_5_link_0shapeimage_5_link_1shapeimage_5_link_2shapeimage_5_link_3shapeimage_5_link_4shapeimage_5_link_5shapeimage_5_link_6shapeimage_5_link_7shapeimage_5_link_8shapeimage_5_link_9shapeimage_5_link_10shapeimage_5_link_11shapeimage_5_link_12shapeimage_5_link_13shapeimage_5_link_14shapeimage_5_link_15shapeimage_5_link_16shapeimage_5_link_17shapeimage_5_link_18shapeimage_5_link_19shapeimage_5_link_20shapeimage_5_link_21shapeimage_5_link_22