Lorrie Moore is a brilliant and talented writer; a new book by her is cause for celebration. This book is about death and family and yet there is humor and absurdity as well. I wanted to love this, but I had a hard time connecting and understanding the story. Beautiful cover, beautiful writing, but this one wasn’t for me.

Thank you to Knopf and NetGalley for this ARC.

I guess there is a book for every kind of reader and I’m just not the reader that this book was written for. There is a lot of very clever humour in the text and the scenes of the letter- writing during the Civil War are very interesting.
Finn’s visit to his dying brother is rendered very movingly. But when we get to Lily,risen from the grave,the author really started to lose me. I tried but I felt as if the author had no interest in connecting with me her reader. Artists are l ways trying to reinvent the wheel-Cervantes was doing that way back when-and congratulations to Lorrie Moore for trying to rewrite the traditional novel form-her effort had little meaning to me. Through most of the journey of Finn and Lilly-and I really found Lilly to be an unpleasant character-the constant monologues of Finn reminded me of a stand-up comic desperate for another laugh. I got tired of his verbal tricks and Uzi became really tired of the narrative as a whole. The book just didn’t work for me.

Very interesting book how we put this book together. It starts out in like the eighteen seventies just after the civil war. This woman runs a boarding house. It switches over to the modern part where this man. Visit his dying brother in manhattan. Hes in hospital care, but nobody says anything. He just tells him hes in a hospital. And just tell him he's in a hospital. It's interesting how they communicate through baseball. His brother lives in ohio but has a very strange way of life there. He was a teacher but got suspended because he was involved with this girl named linda, who had a lot of health problems and mental problems. And it's interesting how he goes back in time again. Somehow the story in the past is related to the story in the future. You'll find this out especially with the name jack. Linda had a prone for suicide, and you'll find out. She kills herself and his brother goes back but doesn't realize she's dead yet. They take this road trip in imaginary way. And somehow end up in this town where the original story took place. You'll find out how everything ties together in this book in the end.

3.5, rounded up. Like George Saunders, Lorrie Moore's real strength is as a short-story writer. I Am Homeless is the strongest novel she's written, especially when compared to her last effort, 2009's overstuffed and overwrought A Gate at the Stairs. I'm a huge fan of her short stories, some of which (like the unbearably bleak "People Like That Are the Only People Here") are perfect specimens.

The comparisons between I Am Homeless and Saunders' only novel, Lincoln in the Bardo, were inescapable for me: Moore is plumbing the depths of grief as both theme and subject matter, but with the darkest of gallows humor and the bleakest of farce. She interleaves two narrative threads, and the novel's first half has unstoppable momentum.

In fall 2016, failed and broke Midwestern high-school history teacher Finn is seeing his beloved brother Max for the last time in a Bronx hospice, where he is dying of cancer with some measure of dignity. A sudden call from home pulls Finn back to Illinois, to embark upon an absurd road trip with the zombie of his recently-deceased ex-girlfriend Lily, a depressive therapy clown (yes, she wears enormous shoes) who took her own life. As he transports her vividly decomposing body to a "body farm" in Kentucky, the narrative blurs the line between the living and the dead (is Finn just as dead as Lily? who knows), and between reality and delirium, as Moore leavens the darkness with hilarious jokes, memorable one-liners, and clever puns.

In the 1870s, the proprietress of a boarding-house somewhere in Kentucky or Tennessee is writing a series of letters to her sister, using stiltedly archaic language to describe her relationship with her lodger Jack, a plummy Shakespearean actor who is trying to court and woo her. Let's just say that matters take a shockingly horrific turn, and her tragic and wordy tale eventually intersects with Finn's.

This novel might not appeal to everyone (and reviews have been decisively mixed), but the sheer audacity of the weirdness and the verve of Moore's comic prose pulled me through.

Thanks to Knopf and Netgalley for giving me an ARC of this in exchange for an honest, unbiased review.

"I am Homeless if This is Not My Home" has an intriguing story-line that drew me in. This book is about death, but more so, life that precedes it in its genuine form.. And family. I wanted to connect deeply with the characters, and while I enjoyed the book, and even more so the plot line to the stories, it left me wanting more feeling. I had a hard time connecting to some of the main characters, and wanted to explore the relationship between Max and Finn further, and did not connect with the Lily storyline.

That said, Lorrie Moore's writing is fantastic, and loved the humor and phrasing of some very sensitive and heart wrenching situations. These nuggets made me stop and think, and in those moments, I was swept away. I will go back and read more of Lorrie's works as I laughed out loud several times, re-read, and contemplated in a heartfelt way. The ability to cause a reader to both laugh and cry at the same time is a unique one, and i am grateful for the opportunity to read my first book by this author.

While not my favorite read, i did enjoy it, and would recommend to others that like literary fiction and the exploration of life and death.

Thank you to NetGalley, Knopf, and Lorrie Moore for a digital review copy, All opinions are my own.

Thank you to Knopf and NetGalley for an electronic ARC of this novel.

This is my first time reading Lorrie Moore.. I had heard good things about her writing. I started reading I Am Homeless if This is Not My Home - the first chapter was about a woman in Civil War times running a boarding house. I wasn't sure if that would be the whole novel. Abruptly, the next chapter switches to modern day, with Finn, who is visiting his brother Max, who is dying of cancer and is in hospice care. Throw in a suicidal ex-girlfriend Lily that Finn is still obsessed with and I guess you have a novel?

I really wanted to like this. But the narratives didn't connect as much as I wanted them to. I would have been happy with a story about the brothers, or the Civil War woman, but definitely not the brother and the ex-girlfriend - that storyline got super weird. It was well written but just not to my taste.

Thank you to NetGalley, Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage, and Anchor for letting me read this book early in exchange for my honest review.

"I Am Homeless If This Is Not My Home" by Lorrie Moore takes you on a slow-burning road trip through purgatory. It's an in-depth examination of death in all its forms. The book's narrator, our fellow traveler, brings us into his journey. There are times we find ourselves resonating with his insights, and other times, sharing his sense of perplexity.

At moments, the narrative reminded me of the quirkiness of "Beetlejuice," along with the grave dialogues found in Cormac McCarthy's 2022 works. The darkness in this book is pervasive, sometimes overwhelming everything else. But within this darkness, the novel reveals its emotional power. It's in these rare, hard-won moments of connection where the narrative finds its gravitas.

Backgrounding this journey, Moore turns the unlikely public events of 2016 into a form of magic realism, lending an intriguing spark to the story. My first introduction to Moore's work was through her classic short story collection
"Birds of America," particularly the moving autofiction piece, "People Like That Are The Only People Here." Fans of "Birds of America" might find this book a challenging read due to its endless descriptions of a decaying undead body.

This book isn't for the faint-hearted. It demands a willingness to journey into its encompassing darkness. But for those who dare, it's a ride worth taking. With its pyrotechnic prose and quotable lines, I give it a solid four out of five stars. Although the central road trip may at times feel aimless, by its close, the book assuredly reaches its intended destination.

I don't get Lorrie Moore like others get Lorrie Moore. I can appreciate the wittiness of the banter, but I don't connect to her storytelling the way I wish I did.

I was entranced by Lorrie Moore's new book. At 192 pages, it read very quickly, I hated putting it down.
With two story lines, eventually briefly crossing paths, the voices of all the characters were so distinct even though they were all ruminating on death and how it affected them. The writing was so poetic and lyrical, I had to read Eliz's letters out loud to really appreciate how beautiful and funny the writing was. It's an out there kind of book but one I think anyone could really enjoy, the humor, the writing, the characters, and themes. There's even a murder. Reading it without knowing anything about it was the perfect way. 10/10 No notes. well, maybe that it was just a smidge longer. Although 192 pages has a lot of stuff crammed in.

Finn, a suspended high school teacher, is visiting his dying brother in New York when he receives a text suggesting that his suicidal ex-girlfriend Lily has finally succeeded in departing this world. Or has she?
This is one of those books that is wonderfully hard to describe and I want this to be spoiler-free so you’ll just have to read it yourself to find out what happens. But you’ll likely be asking yourself questions along the way: Is it all really happening? Is it a dream or a delusion? I suppose the reader gets to decide.

This book was weird in the most wonderful way. I could never quite decide if I thought it was all really happening or an elaborate hallucination but either way I enjoyed it. The main character’s voice was one of the most unique and captivating voices I’ve ever read. The main story is interspersed with old letters from another character which I found a little distracting, but other than that I really liked this book.

Thanks to NetGalley and Knopf Doubleday for the advance copy of this book.

Super unique. Touched on death in a way I can’t quite put words to… it felt different than other books I’ve read with grief themes. This will be with me for awhile.

There were three interesting stories here but I didn't fully appreciate/understand how they connected. I was especially drawn to the story of Finn's brother who is in hospice care and their relationship. Lorrie Moore is an author who I have meant to read for years and I will make sure to read some of her short stories soon because she is a gifted writer.

It pains my heart to DNF this one. I am a big fan of Lorrie Moore's writing (I still recommend Birds of America often) and was ecstatic to see that she had a new book out. My main issues were characters I didn't care about and the disjointed plot. We begin the novel with a woman writing to her sister during post-Civil War times and then shift to the present day when a man, Finn, is visiting his terminally ill brother in the hospital. (There are some turns of phrases in these scenes that feel reminiscent of Moore's brilliant short story "People Like Us Are the Only People Here" as Moore captures very well the feeling of being in the hospital with a dying loved one.) But from there, the plot goes a bit off the rails. Finn's (girlfriend? wife?) Lily has died -- or maybe she hasn't, from what I read of other reviews. There's also another woman/love interest who happens to be the wife of the headmaster at the school where Finn teaches, and she's gotten him suspended or something.

Throughout these pages I was waiting for some glimmer of connection -- anything! -- to the previous story, the post-Civil War woman writing to her sister. By the 40% mark, I was impatient and becoming less invested. From other reviews I read, we do eventually discover the connection but it sounds tenuous and forced, at best.

I wasn't a fan of Moore's previous novel, A Gate at the Stairs and I'd hoped this would make up for that disappointment. Sadly, it didn't.

Thank you, Netgalley and Knopf, for the advanced reader's copy. I'm sorry this wasn't more favorable.

Finn, a high school teacher fond of conspiracy theories, visits his terminally ill older brother Max in hospice in the Bronx. They reminisce and Finn ponders over the impending loss of his brother and how they had drifted apart in their adult years. In the course of his visit, he receives disturbing news concerning his ex Lily, a therapy clown by profession who had been struggling with mental issues and whom he still loves. Finn leaves his brother watching the World Series confident that his brother will be alive the next time he visits and returns to Chicago fearing the worst. What follows is a most unusual cross-country road trip that has Finn reflecting on the ups and downs of his relationship with Lily and how they treated one another and themselves while they were together. Lily and Max are the most important people in his life and Finn’s journey as he grapples with his reality is one of love, loss, acceptance and learning to move on.

Interspersed throughout the novel are a few letters written by a woman named Elizabeth who ran a boarding house, to her sister in the post-Civil War years. The contents of the letters comprise a story in epistolary format, revolving around a guest in the boarding house who sparks Elizabeth’s interests. But when she begins to suspect his true identity, she is compelled to take matters into her own hands.

Imaginative and unique, with elegant prose in a dream-like narrative, I Am Homeless if This is Not My Home by Lorrie Moore is an absorbing read touching upon themes of family, life, death, loss, mental health and grief. In turn absurdist and bizarre laced with dark humor yet insightful and heartbreaking, this is an unusual novel, but I mean that in a good way. The two narratives are somewhat disjointed, intersecting briefly and though I can’t say that I felt they were much impacted by one another, I did enjoy the boardinghouse story for its humor and intrigue and ultimately its message. I would have liked it if the segment on Max and Finn had been explored in more depth, but overall I found this short novel to be an impactful read.


Many thanks to NetGalley and Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage, and Anchor for the digital review copy of this novel. All opinions expressed in this review are own.

Thank you Knopf and Net Galley for the opportunity to read the dazzling “I Am Homeless If This Is Not My Home.“ If I were told that a novel involved a hapless young man who takes a road trip with his dead ex-girlfriend, I would pass; however, this is a novel by literary titan Lorrie Moore who masterfully takes a zombie-ish premise to craft a compelling tale of grief. The novel opens with a letter from the proprietress of a boardinghouse to her sister. Elizabeth confides that she is smitten with her lodger who “is keen to relieve me of my spinsterhood,” but is a bit discouraged when he claims that she has inner beauty, remarking, “I wish it would strike outward [as] it’s best to have things come to the surface.” The letter concludes and the reader is whisked from Reconstruction to 2016 where Finn, a high school teacher who may have been suspended because he spurned the advances of the headmaster’s wife rather than because he drifted from the curriculum, has driven from Illinois to the Bronx to be with his brother, Max, who is languishing in hospice.

Finn intends to regale Max with amusing tales, such as the plumbing salesman who encouraged Finn to try out the different toilets on display in a showroom but, instead, shares that his ex girlfriend Lily, a therapy clown, is suicidal: “Her whole condition was one big Anna Karenina.” The dying Max replies, “I feel sorry for you, man.” Finn receives an unexpected call and learns that Lily has succeeded in killing herself. When he arrives at her grave, she stands there waiting, wearing her death shroud, her mouth full of dirt.

Finn drives through the South accompanied by his spectral co-pilot — Lily’s walking, talking and desiccating corpse. Despite the grim set-up — a beloved elder brother dying in hospice and a suicidal former girlfriend for whom the protagonist still aches — there is a laugh out loud bon mot in every paragraph. Finn observes that the greeter at Tiffany’s wore a tight-fitting suit “that caused grown men to look like they were fourteen-year-olds outgrowing their clothes” and, after singing “Moon River,” decided that he “would be everybody’s friend. In a Huckleberry way.” The novel is fantastical, but the writing is so sharp, stunning, and witty that it perfectly captures the disorientation of grief.

Before Bill, there was Mel. Melville. When I adopted him at the animal shelter, he looked right at me and called out. We were inseparable ever since.

Mel grounded me, gave me unconditional love, and would get so excited to see me when I came home from work that he would run to the door and start meowing as soon as he heard the doorknob turn.

He had his own personality in that he really loved being close to me, but he didn’t want to sit on me. He also hated being picked up. When it was finally time for bed at the end of the day, I would call him, and he would faithfully follow, giving little meows of acknowledgement as his little paws went pattering next to mine.

We had ten amazing years together.

After a lengthy illness, he died.

And his death destroyed me. Every single day, I would cry, pretty much nonstop from the time I awoke until bedtime. Once I saw a flash of a little grey cat tail outside, and I ran outside so fast, never able to locate this mysterious cat.

The world was going on, but my life was stuck. The world was forever changed, but everyone was carrying on as business as usual. Eventually, I ended up going to grief counseling, and I had a great Death Guide.

Outside my house, I have a memorial tree. Right around the anniversary of Mel’s death, the cherry tree blooms in a spectacular fashion.

There can be beauty, mystery, and magic in death.

However, I Am Homeless If This Is Not My Home failed to capture that.

The book centers on Finn who is going through a rough time: his brother is in hospice, and his ex-partner, Lily, is battling with severe depression.

The beginning of the book is quite promising. The author has a great vocabulary, and the story felt built up around some really strong quotes.

The downfall of this book is the characters and some of the author’s choices. Personally, I didn’t connect with Lily. The relationship was too fraught and depressing. The author needed to give us a little bit of hope and light.

When Lily and Finn embark on a journey together, I was wondering, “Where is the suspense? Is Finn trying to beat a clock? What are his thoughts? Could Finn fix everything?”

The story that I connected to more strongly was the relationship with the brother, but I was displeased with the off-page resolution.

The potential for an amazing story is there, and the author clearly has a strong command of the English language, but this feels more like a rough draft. It hasn’t fully morphed into a magical moving piece.

There is more beauty in my cherry tree. Love you, Mel.

*Thanks, NetGalley, for a free copy of this book in exchange for my fair and honest opinion.

At one point in this short novel, one character asks another, "Don't you like farce?" And I had to ask myself if the novel was telling me that what I've been reading is farcical rather than a wrenching examination of griefs of all kinds. Because I think that's what I got out of it, around the slapstick dialog, a deep well of loneliness and loss. Finn is a late middle-aged teacher whose romantic partner Lily has been suicidal for a long time. The story is set right before the calamitous election of 2016, years before Covid, too, though I felt ghosts of oncoming loss from that terrible first year seep in through the prose, as well. Finn is visiting his dying brother in a hospice and gets word he must come home and deal with Lily. How much to give away here? I am not going into the plot, but it takes a bizarre turn from realism to what feels like a fevered dream of a road trip.

And the OTHER part of the novel is a series of letters from the post-Civil War era from a boardinghouse owner to her sister, mostly about her troublesome tenant, a la Faulkner. I do not know that those parts of the story did anything for me but distract from Finn and Lily's swansong. There are some gorgeous passages that carried me along, but I'm still trying to figure out if there was something I missed. I love Lorrie Moore's short stories and wish this were more like those.

Thanks to NetGalley and Knopf for an advanced review copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

I Am Homeless If This Is Not My Home, Lorrie Moore’s new novel, is funny, strange, and deeply moving. In other words, utterly human. At its heart, this is a story about how we let go – of the past, of relationships, of people – if we ever do. And with any letting go, there must inevitably be a moving on. But that’s not what Moore seems interested in. Because in letting go, there’s always the question of what, exactly, is it that we are letting go of – how that person or relationship shaped us, gave us direction or purpose, or created meaning in our life. That’s where the real story is.

The novel opens with Finn, a teacher, who has been suspended for his very independent teaching style, visiting his brother at hospice. Finn is bloated with memories, nostalgia, longing, and regret…the gifts that an impending death keeps giving. Until he’s called away by something more – compelling isn’t the right word here, urgent might be better – concerning Lily, the woman he was in a long-term relationship with but now is not because she needed “time to think.” Finn isn’t nearly over it. Lily is a professional therapy clown who wears her clown shoes even when she’s not being a therapy clown. She also wants to die.

Most of I Am Homeless is a road trip; in Finn’s car; with Finn, Lily and a litter box sliding along the back seat. Though this isn’t like any road trip you’ve ever taken before. And not because of the litter box. That said, I thoroughly enjoyed sharing the ride with them. They’re interesting and fun. They’re not making small talk. Finn and Lily reveal themselves to each other and to us, even as they’ve lost each other.

Moore knows how to fill the open road. The dialogue snaps. It’s smart and sarcastic. Finn and Lily are entertaining each other but mostly they’re holding onto each other in their own ways. Deep within the memories, jokes, puns, and song lyrics is the work of caring between two people who show up for each other as best as they can. And, believe me, there are limits.

Some might see this as a ghost story. Adding to the ghostly atmosphere are the letters that punctuate the narrative written in the nineteenth century by a woman to her dead sister. The letters tell their own tale, which is interesting enough, though they seem out of place in Finn’s story. The road trip brings clarity to their relevance.

Is there really a ghost here? Or is it some aberration of grief? More importantly, do we need to know that? Do we have to find an explanation for what’s happening in order to enjoy the story?

My advice is this – if you start to wonder whether what’s happening with Finn is real, pull back. That’s not the point. In a compelling and imaginative way, Moore makes us feel the meaning in this loss. It’s ephemeral, yet deeply embodied. That’s classic Lorrie Moore irony and you’ll enjoy the ride.

Early on, Finn is remembering trips he took as a child with school groups or family, “and now he could feel again the vague terror and strange adventure of a world happening simultaneously and separately from the world he was from.” Seeing our own reality can be hard enough. A reminder of another world or even from another world can be clarifying.

Reader she lost me. This novel (or is it a novella) might have some beautiful language but the plot, such as it is, is odd, to say the least. Equally importantly, I didn't care for or about any of the characters. I know that Moore is beloved and that this has terrific advance reviews but it wasn't for me. Thanks to Netgalley for the ARC. For Moore's fans and those who like literary fiction.

Thanks to Netgalley and Knopf for the ebook. A teacher, recently put on leave for speaking his mind, goes to visit his dying brother in New York. As they reminisce about their lives, a call comes in about the teacher’s old love. She’s recently died and the teacher goes back home, takes her from her grave and takes her for an extended road trip. Is this a ghost story? A dream? This slender book is filled with the author’s trademark humor and sharp eyed analysis of relationships.