Product Description

Gerard sits, fully clothed, in his empty bathtub and pines for Benna. Neighbors in the same apartment building, they share a wall and Gerard listens for the sound of her toilet flushing. Gerard loves Benna. And then Benna loves Gerard. She listens to him play piano, she teaches poetry and sings at nightclubs.

As their relationships ebbs and flows, through reality and imagination, Lorrie Moore paints a captivating, innovative portrait of men and women in love and not in love. The first novel from a master of contemporary American fiction, Anagrams is a revelatory tale of love gained and lost.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #225301 in Books
• Published on: 2007-03-13
• Released on: 2007-03-13
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 240 pages

From Publishers Weekly
Moore, praised for her short story collection Self-Help, makes her debut as a novelist with this story about what may be the disintegration of the thoroughly modern protagonist's personality. PW called Anagrams "original and highly inventive."
Copyright 1987 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Library Journal
Who exactly is Benna, the 33-year-old poetry teacher (or singer? or aerobics instructor?) we meet in this inventive novel? It is hard to say. She hidesfrom us, from herselfbehind imaginary identities, relationships, and scenarios in which elements of character and action are transposed like the letters of those anagrams she scribbles on napkins. Her fantasies are offered as straight narrative along with a stream of wisecracks ("All the world's a stage we're going through"). For deep down, Benna is terrified of the contingencies of reality ("One gust of wind and Santa became Satan"), longs for the very continuity she mocks. This won't be everyone's cup of tea. Still, the virtuosity of Moore's widely praised Self-Help ( LJ 3/15/85) is once again evident, and when she fleetingly reveals the vulnerability beneath the sleight of hand, it is very affecting. Elise Chase, Forbes Lib., Northampton, Mass.
Copyright 1986 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Review
"An extraordinary, often hilarious novel."
—The New York Times Book Review

"From the very start, Lorrie Moore's generous gifts as a writer have been clear: A wry, distinctive voice, a gift for telling detail."
—The New York Times

“Anagrams has all the wit and inveigling playfulness of Self-Help, plus an organic sophistication astounding in a first novel.”
—The Philadelphia Inquirer

"A rare novel. . . . Its surface sparkles with wit and humor, but underneath there's a keen intelligence at work, a seriousness of purpose that's deeply touching. Read Anagrams. It will bowl you over." —The Plain Dealer

Customer Reviews

Loved the language and humor, but oh so sad
I have read three Lorrie Moore books, but missed this one so it was a treat to delve into her writing again. I enjoyed the story and laughed at the turns of phrase. It is fun to have a book that it is best to read slowly so you don't miss the unexpected anagram or wry comment about life.

Then there is the incredible loneliness and sadness threaded throughout the book. Very strong and so real. This book has a punch.

I am going to quote a paragraph that caught my attention as I read.
"You cannot be grateful without possessing a past. That is why children are incapable of gratitude and why night prayers and dinner graces are lost on them. "Gobbles Mommy, Gobbles Grandpa..." George races through it. She has no reference points. As I get older the past widens and accumulates, all sloppy landlessness like a river, and as a result I have more clearly demarcated areas of gratitude. Things like ice cream or scenery or one good kiss become objects of a huge soulful thanks. Nothing is gobbled. This is a sign of getting old."

A witty poetic genius writes a surprise.
Moore, Lorrie, Anagrams. 1986. New York: Time Warner Books, 1997.
Moore is a highly successful author and storyteller. Even so, it's the rare book that can get me chuckling, then laughing, then roaring, and then suddenly bring me to tears. This is that rare book. Benna is a teacher who used to dance at clubs. She is 33, divorced, and troubled by loneliness. She has a 6-year old daughter called Georgianne, and a large woman friend named Eleanor. She meets Gerard, a "large, green-eyed man" who loves classical music, sings tenor in opera, and plays guitar at clubs. Their relationship is the focus of the early chapters, but what strikes the reader is the play with words they engage in. Moore must be a poet! She invents words that fit: "the ruckle of the toilet paper," "oxpecker," "mingy philodendra," and she produces fantastic images: "pantcuffs misironed into Möbius strips," "reading Hart Crane in an inner tube..." There are many plays on words: "vulva or B.M., names that sounded like foreign cars." "Add a d to poor and you get droop. Add a chromosome, get a criminal. Subtract one, get an idiot or a chipmunk....'You are my honey bunch' was not usually interchangeable with 'You are my bunny hutch.'"
Benna tells us, "There was a period when I kept trying to make anagrams out of words that weren't anagrams: moonscape and menopause, gutless and guilts, lovesick and still louse...." she scrawls lovesick and evil sock on a table in a café, and then bedroom and boredom.
I could quote from almost every page of this wonderful book, but I'll finish with "'Why are we supposed to be with men, anyway? I feel like I used to know.'
'We need them for their Phillips-head screwdrivers,' I said.
Eleanor raised her eyebrows. 'That's right, she said, 'I keep forgetting that you only go out with circumcised men.'" Later, Eleanor says, "If they can send one man to the moon, why can't they send them all?"
But the novel has far deeper themes than the jokes and word play. All the characters have problems and nothing turns out the way we expect. In fact, it's a heartbreaker--a big surprise, and highly recommended by this fussy reader. Five stars plus.

Contemplate Your Navel Much?
I'm stunned that there are so many favorable reviews of Anagrams. I love wordplay and wit, and despite a few moderately amusing turns of phrase, this book doesn't cut it for me. Worse, corny "urban legends" are supposed to pass for cleverness, as with "Strings Too Short to Use." What is she going to write about next, the socks that get lost in the dryer? Ultimately, these characters are unattractive people who traipse along in a chronic low mood, holding out the no doubt false promise that if only there were SSRIs in the water supply, they might actually become active participants in life. Don't hold your breath!