When you live in Minnesota, you don’t like to wish the summer away. We all know that soon enough it’ll be so cold your eyes weep the minute you step outside. That being said, I still cannot wait for some of the upcoming fall releases. And as much as it might pain school kids and teachers, I can’t help but thing hurry up September and get here already! Here’s why:
Sometimes when I think about a new novel from Lorrie Moore I get so excited I have to close my eyes and clutch at my chest like Redd Foxx in “Sanford and Son.” I know I say this a lot, but Lorrie Moore might be my favorite short story writer ever (ignore that I also say that about Mary Gaitskill and Jean Thompson too).
I keep a copy of her collection Self-Help under my pillow. Literally. Because there are some nights where you just need to read How to Become a Writer to ward off the doubt and bad dreams. And really, that’s not even her best story. Of course there are too many to list, you should just go get Birds of America right now and read it over and over again. You can thank me later (with cookies).
The Gate at the Stairs is set to be released on September 1.
Other upcoming releases that are really pumping my nads (note The Breakfast Club reference):
- Await Your Reply by Dan Chaon: I remember being vaugely disappointed by his first novel You Remind Me of Me but it’s been so long since I read it I can’t remember why. In the meantime I’ve read two of his short story collections and they are both solid, solid reads.
- Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger: The only thing that scares me more than the movie version of The Time Traveler’s Wife is this second novel by Niffenegger.
- Last Night in Twisted River by John Irving: Irving’s novels are like that boyfriend who started out treating you like a queen (Garp, Owen Meany) and gradually he lost interest and began to treat you poorly (Son of the Circus, The Fourth Hand), but then suddenly he’d be nice again (A Widow for One Year) and go right back to dogging you (Until I Find You). You swear you’re done, you won’t let him weasel his way back into your heart. And then. . .