MORTAL COIL
The New Yorker|June 19, 2023
Loving and letting go in Lorrie Moore's new novel.
PARUL SEHGAL
MORTAL COIL

Is it possible to critic-proof a work of art? To angle it just out of the reach of our blundering hands? To render it opaque enough to resist interpretation, or maybe just to obscure our view with a shroud of baffling public utterances? Lorrie Moore has tried each of these moves. In the course of a long and celebrated career, she has maintained a cagey relationship with criticism, complicated by the fact that she herself is a frequent and accomplished practitioner. A collection of her reviews, “See What Can Be Done” (2018), begins with a line from the jazz musician Ben Sidran: “Critics! Can’t even float. They just stand on shore.

Wave at the boat.” Her clearest countermove can be seen in her decision to arrange the contents of her “Collected Stories” (2020) alphabetically rather than chronologically; as she explained, she wanted to avoid a “linear sequence that would tempt biographical and ‘artistic growth’ pronouncements.” She offers her own decorous, deeply accommodating approach as an alternative model. Reviewing a volume of Ann Beattie’s stories, she writes, “Do the characters sometimes seem similar from story to story? The same can be said of every short-story writer who ever lived. Does the imaginative range seem limited? It is the same limited range Americans are so fond of calling Chekhovian. Is every new story here one for the ages? With a book this generous from a writer this gifted, we would be vulgar to ask.”

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