Lately, I’ve been instagramming all the books I read. Is it redundant to cross-post the same thing on two different social media platforms? Meh.
It’s a strange thing to re-read a book you fell in love with years ago. When my MA advisor recommended Lorrie Moore’s first collection of short stories, I had never heard of the author and dove in, finally discovering a writer whose voice was so close to what I hoped to do with my own. On re-read, it fell short of my memory. Sure, “How to Be an Other Woman” is probably one of my favourite short stories ever, and Moore’s wit and wordplay still makes me smile, and often there are sentences that are so perfect that I have to stop, pause, and re-read them. But, this isn’t the same book I fell in love with. It’s still a wonderful collection of often second-person stories offering cheeky advice on being a mistress, talking to your mother, and becoming a writer, but I don’t think Moore really hit her stride until her follow-up, Birds of America, which is probably my favourite book of short stories ever. Eight and a half slightly off-kilter thirtysomethings out of ten.