Self-Help by Lorrie Moore

Lorrie Moore’s writing is a score, punctuated by the staccato of wit and pithy social insight. Her words read like poetry, but lack the intemperance that is so often the sole accompaniment of such literature. I first read Self-Help as a nineteen year old going through my first heartbreak - I raided the local Waterstones of every novel that promised to indulge the very adult-like feelings I was experiencing, practically breathless in the maturity the situation demanded of an author; I found solace in John William’s ‘Stoner’ and what that tells you about my visceral response to heartbreak I’m not quite sure, but Lorrie Moore’s collection of short stories seems the slightly more obvious remedy. Stylised as a ‘self-help’ guide, but one that could only be used when navigating life’s (and more specifically in the writing’s particular context, women’s) heavier tribulations, it is Moore’s ‘idiosyncratic guide to female existence which is just as relevant today as it was 30 years ago (Faber, 2021). Searching for an answer to those tumultuous emotions that I was certain would end my female existence in some way or another (ah, young love), I found the most insightful piece of character-driven literary fiction I think I have ever read. It was the first time I had really read anything written in the second-person and the employment of the narrative style was executed masterfully, with Moore allowing you to exist as these characters in a way that is subtle and understated - something that is scarcely achieved with the style, as often you’ll find yourself suffocating on the ‘you, you, you’.

Moore writes in a fascinating, unflinching light, her use of humour having the simultaneous ability of exposition, revealing integral character flaws and striking realities. It is this quality that makes Moore such an excellent writer, her knack at towing that line between lyrical and clinical, shrouding her stories in a melancholic realism, composing them out of moments as opposed to direct scenes, drawing parallels between her written word and real life. Moore’s writing often utilises minimal linguistic components which is a testament to her writing ability, lexical and dialectical deviations contributing to this loose use of language. Every sentence uttered is entirely necessary and its impact is as such; the descriptions of a lakeside are just as crucial as confessions of a fading consciousness, the choice of music on a bus ride only a close second to the inner workings of an affair. Lorrie Moore’s writing encapsulates what it is to be alive and her ability to translate this in her prose is masterful.