Published 1998, 291 pagesCharacters: B
Writing: A-
Plot/Pacing: N/A
Poignancy: B
When I suggest that someone is or is not a good "writer", it's rather frustrating that I could easily mean one of two things (or two of two things). Writing can be successful on both a small and large scale, and the actual construction of sentences, imagery and metaphors is essentially as important as the overall impact of a piece. Writing is one of the few mediums in which the quality of the craftsmanship is immediately obvious to any observer — Dan Brown can tell a compelling story, and thus is a decent "storyteller", but seeing him struggle with the English language is as embarrassing and uncomfortable as watching a retarded blind double-amputee try to win an Iron Chef competition. So when I say that Lorrie Moore is a fantastic writer, there are a few caveats (I got caveats like Dan Brown has plot twists, buddy), but whether or not she succeeds as a storyteller is ultimately going to be up to the reader's personality and view on life.
How does this sound: stories that render ordinary, hopeless lives with astounding accuracy, scooping up many poignant details and observations along the way but, as a result of never developing any genuine conflict, ending abruptly and without payoff. Does that sound like it has the potential to be beautiful and revelatory to you, or just tedious? Being as objective as it's possible for me to be, I'd say it's a bit of both. Moore makes some truly great insights, though of the "subtle implication" sort, but she also gets a bit too caught up in what she's doing. Birds of America practically runs on metaphors and similes, which one senses are meant to carry the narrative in lieu of other more conventional propellants. This isn't a plot-heavy book, after all. It's about small characters leading pathetic lives, doing little with those lives, and reaching no real fulfillment in the end. The details they notice along the way are what's meant to endear Birds of America to us as well — and mostly, this works. Moore's writing is usually sublime and profound, and is enough on its own to push the stories forward. Unfortunately, Moore is hyper-aware that over-studied details and cute linguistic tricks are her selling-point, and she's quite relentless in making sure we get our money's worth. There were a few sentences that made me stop and stare at the page for a moment — in the very best of ways, in appreciation, understanding and a bit of jealousy — but there were also some similes so forced and stupid that I had to close the book and take a moment to recover. While the bad ones were rare, the real issue is that Moore has surprisingly little restraint for a writer dealing which such low-key subject matter. The first time she used a double or triple simile to describe something, I nodded my head in agreement and respect. Her words are undeniably powerful. But she doesn't stop. Is there a malfunctioning toaster that can be compared to a bird with a broken wing as part of a deeper metaphor for the futility of our protagonist's life? Expect at least three pretty, whimsical metaphors to follow. There's not enough happening in the background to justify getting stuck on every line, and her stories quickly run the risk of becoming over-long poems. Why am I being so harsh on her writing, when I gave it a rare "A"? Because nothing bothers me more than a writer who's become so impressed with themselves that they lose control, and with just a bit of editing and restraint (or even more variety in the actual stories), Moore's writing could be damn near perfect.
As for the larger picture, there's not a lot to say, which is another of the damn Catch 22's that seem to go hand-in-hand with Moore's writing. Moore has an exceptional command of voice, and every character in this collection is vivid and believable — however, I get the sense that I was reading the same character over and over, a bit like how Woody Allen will try to convince us that he's a sports writer in one movie and a comedy writer in the next, and you wish he'd just drop the damn pretense and play himself already. In almost every story, our third-person protagonist is a middle-aged woman with a repressed, whimsical sense of humor and a feeling of crushed pride, who faces the fact that her life has gone nowhere and that she's dating / married to some slovenly Joe Average dipshit who isn't good enough for her, although she's so passive aggressive that he ends up being the one to screw her over. There are slight variations on this theme, of course, sometimes introducing cats, children or cancer — the Big 3, innit — but ultimately, each explores a character stoically dealing with the slow, sad atrophy of their life.
Just writing this out makes it sound as if Moore has created a swan song for horribly stereotypical suburban housewives, but don't get me wrong — these stories are powerful enough to transcend their simple material and become something much more universal. And though I was overall impressed by Birds of America, it began to grate on me by the end for reasons I expect have become obvious by now. Since I didn't particularly care for any of the characters that much on their own monotonous merits, I was increasingly unmoved by their awkward revelations, their "Oh! Isn't life like that!" moments. Moore is such a good writer and observer that everything here is compellingly relatable, but it's also exhausting. I've been told that Moore's writing is "funny", and though I don't think she ever really goes for outright laughter, I can see how some might find humor in these situations. Personally, I'd describe them as "amusing" — frivolous in tone, generally placing us in awkward social entanglements without ever condescending to its characters the way that, say, The Office does. Each story on its own is a fine accomplishment, with few outright weak points, and for the right person in the right circumstances, Birds of America could be quite powerful. For others, to whom these characters aren't quite so endearing, Moore's book should at least serve as an engaging tutorial on the usage of simile and metaphor.
Writing: A-
Plot/Pacing: N/A
Poignancy: B
When I suggest that someone is or is not a good "writer", it's rather frustrating that I could easily mean one of two things (or two of two things). Writing can be successful on both a small and large scale, and the actual construction of sentences, imagery and metaphors is essentially as important as the overall impact of a piece. Writing is one of the few mediums in which the quality of the craftsmanship is immediately obvious to any observer — Dan Brown can tell a compelling story, and thus is a decent "storyteller", but seeing him struggle with the English language is as embarrassing and uncomfortable as watching a retarded blind double-amputee try to win an Iron Chef competition. So when I say that Lorrie Moore is a fantastic writer, there are a few caveats (I got caveats like Dan Brown has plot twists, buddy), but whether or not she succeeds as a storyteller is ultimately going to be up to the reader's personality and view on life.
How does this sound: stories that render ordinary, hopeless lives with astounding accuracy, scooping up many poignant details and observations along the way but, as a result of never developing any genuine conflict, ending abruptly and without payoff. Does that sound like it has the potential to be beautiful and revelatory to you, or just tedious? Being as objective as it's possible for me to be, I'd say it's a bit of both. Moore makes some truly great insights, though of the "subtle implication" sort, but she also gets a bit too caught up in what she's doing. Birds of America practically runs on metaphors and similes, which one senses are meant to carry the narrative in lieu of other more conventional propellants. This isn't a plot-heavy book, after all. It's about small characters leading pathetic lives, doing little with those lives, and reaching no real fulfillment in the end. The details they notice along the way are what's meant to endear Birds of America to us as well — and mostly, this works. Moore's writing is usually sublime and profound, and is enough on its own to push the stories forward. Unfortunately, Moore is hyper-aware that over-studied details and cute linguistic tricks are her selling-point, and she's quite relentless in making sure we get our money's worth. There were a few sentences that made me stop and stare at the page for a moment — in the very best of ways, in appreciation, understanding and a bit of jealousy — but there were also some similes so forced and stupid that I had to close the book and take a moment to recover. While the bad ones were rare, the real issue is that Moore has surprisingly little restraint for a writer dealing which such low-key subject matter. The first time she used a double or triple simile to describe something, I nodded my head in agreement and respect. Her words are undeniably powerful. But she doesn't stop. Is there a malfunctioning toaster that can be compared to a bird with a broken wing as part of a deeper metaphor for the futility of our protagonist's life? Expect at least three pretty, whimsical metaphors to follow. There's not enough happening in the background to justify getting stuck on every line, and her stories quickly run the risk of becoming over-long poems. Why am I being so harsh on her writing, when I gave it a rare "A"? Because nothing bothers me more than a writer who's become so impressed with themselves that they lose control, and with just a bit of editing and restraint (or even more variety in the actual stories), Moore's writing could be damn near perfect.
As for the larger picture, there's not a lot to say, which is another of the damn Catch 22's that seem to go hand-in-hand with Moore's writing. Moore has an exceptional command of voice, and every character in this collection is vivid and believable — however, I get the sense that I was reading the same character over and over, a bit like how Woody Allen will try to convince us that he's a sports writer in one movie and a comedy writer in the next, and you wish he'd just drop the damn pretense and play himself already. In almost every story, our third-person protagonist is a middle-aged woman with a repressed, whimsical sense of humor and a feeling of crushed pride, who faces the fact that her life has gone nowhere and that she's dating / married to some slovenly Joe Average dipshit who isn't good enough for her, although she's so passive aggressive that he ends up being the one to screw her over. There are slight variations on this theme, of course, sometimes introducing cats, children or cancer — the Big 3, innit — but ultimately, each explores a character stoically dealing with the slow, sad atrophy of their life.
Just writing this out makes it sound as if Moore has created a swan song for horribly stereotypical suburban housewives, but don't get me wrong — these stories are powerful enough to transcend their simple material and become something much more universal. And though I was overall impressed by Birds of America, it began to grate on me by the end for reasons I expect have become obvious by now. Since I didn't particularly care for any of the characters that much on their own monotonous merits, I was increasingly unmoved by their awkward revelations, their "Oh! Isn't life like that!" moments. Moore is such a good writer and observer that everything here is compellingly relatable, but it's also exhausting. I've been told that Moore's writing is "funny", and though I don't think she ever really goes for outright laughter, I can see how some might find humor in these situations. Personally, I'd describe them as "amusing" — frivolous in tone, generally placing us in awkward social entanglements without ever condescending to its characters the way that, say, The Office does. Each story on its own is a fine accomplishment, with few outright weak points, and for the right person in the right circumstances, Birds of America could be quite powerful. For others, to whom these characters aren't quite so endearing, Moore's book should at least serve as an engaging tutorial on the usage of simile and metaphor.
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