Bark: Stories by Lorrie Moore
By Lorrie Moore
In those 8 masterful tales, Lorrie Moore, in an ideal mix of craft and bewitched spirit, explores the passage of time, and summons up its inevitable sorrows and hilarious pitfalls to bare her personal beautiful, singular wisdom.
In "Debarking," a newly divorced guy attempts to maintain his wits approximately him because the usa prepares to invade Iraq, and by contrast ominous second, we see-in all its impossible to resist hilarity and darkness-the perils of divorce and what can stick to in its wake…In "Foes," a political argument is going grotesquely awry because the occasions of Sept. 11 without notice occur at a fund-raising dinner in Georgetown…In "The Juniper Tree," a instructor, visited by way of the ghost of her lately deceased good friend, is compelled to sing "The Star-Spangled Banner" in a type of nightmare reunion…And in "Wings," we watch the unraveling of 2 once-hopeful musicians who neither held quickly to their desires nor struck out alongside different paths as Moore deftly depicts the intricacies of useless ends and the workings of regret…
Gimlet-eyed social remark, the private and non-private absurdities of yank existence, dramatic irony, and enduring half-cracked love wend their manner via every one of those narratives in a heartrending mash-up of the tragic and the laugh-out-loud-the hallmark of Lorrie Moore-land.
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Additional resources for Bark: Stories
Little black flies swarmed around the fruit. Sam stretched out one arm and grabbed a banana, and the monster trembled. He pulled but the banana wouldn’t break loose. He glanced down and around at the townsfolk. Everyone was silent, watching him, waiting, he thought, for him to make a mistake and fall. Crazy Sam Briggs. “Okay,” he said. ” He jerked at the banana, once, twice, and it came away in his hand. She groaned. Where the banana had been attached, bright red blood gathered and fell in slow drops to the dusty street below.
He let them bunch up at the door behind him, then stepped aside and switched on the light to reveal a lavishly appointed dinner table. The walls of the dining room had been papered white with a faint red rose pattern. A picture Stuart had first mistaken for a big photograph mimicked a window on one wall. When he looked a little closer he saw it was a painting. Not a very good painting. He doubted even a very good painting would have chased away the overwhelming sense of being underground. It had something to do with the way light and sound behaved, something about the earthy smell of the air.
There’s still time for negotiation, Jessica,” I said. ” Jessica was doing what the nanopeople thought was Mom’s voice. I wasn’t fooled. Mom never whined. Not the old Mom anyway. At least we had the nanopeople’s attention these days. At first, Jessica had not bothered to even acknowledge our existence. Then we started pushing Mom into water over her head, and Jessica decided to talk to us. I tied the big rubber bands to Mom’s boots. “The word is bungee, Jessica,” Ada said. My sister was becoming one scary chick, I thought, what with her horse tattoo and western hat and the ever-present toothpick in the corner of her mouth.