Penny for your . . . well, feelings?

I have a sinking feeling that Lorrie Moore's popularity is connected with her lack of ideas.

Maybe I'm being unfair.  I've only read Self-Help, her first story collection.  But it's a wasteland of ideas.

"How to Be an Other Woman," the opening story, contains some memorable writing, but in terms of ideas - being a mistress is a position short on dignity; the guy is in it for the sex - the story offers nothing new.

"The Kid's Guide to Divorce," the third story, isn't even well written (it's a pointless interlude included in the collection on the basis of deeply questionable judgment) and makes the entirely unenlightened point that talking to your mom about your visit with your dad and his girlfriend isn't easy.

"How to Talk to Your Mother (Notes)" doesn't even qualify as a story from my perspective.  A list of half-page recountings of significant events over the years (in reverse chronological order), "How to Talk to Your Mother" is animated by the idea that communication with your mom is a challenge, and that the inevitable failures on both sides will infiltrate your life in elliptical and poetic ways.

"How to Become a Writer" is a tiresome hit piece about the inanity of creative writing classes.  Hardly a fresh take on the process of training writers.

If this collection is any example, Lorrie Moore is a kind of anti-Joan Didion.  Whereas Joan Didion is a "brain in a box," Lorrie Moore is a body in search of a brain.  Her writing - which (although it's obviously not to my taste) is (equally) obviously good - focuses on the visceral: the creeping way a "cold man" can crater your enjoyment of life ("What Is Seized"), the persistence of sexual desire in the throes of cancer ("Go Like This"), the physical and emotional suffering caused by a husband's infidelity ("To Fill").  In Self-Help, Moore is interested in portraying a state or condition - if it's a familiar state or condition, easily recognizable and accessible for the reader, all the better.

For this reason, Lorrie Moore is a "serious" writer who is nonetheless easy to read.  Her prose can be enjoyed without any troubling cerebral engagement to spoil the escapism and, in light of the ubiquitous female protagonists, women can nod agreeably at the way Moore's scenarios resonate with their own experiences.  Female readers needn't appreciate the quality of Moore's writing to appreciate that the stories make them feel part of a community - "heard" - as if they'd been gossiping with a sympathetic friend.

This audience response doesn't diminish Moore's stature as a good writer.  But it reflects a poor use of a good writer by a reading public that probably doesn't know what to do with her.  Perhaps Moore should have written a story about "How to Become a Reader."

(Image courtesy of The Telegraph)