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sheila_p's review against another edition
3.0
I really liked this book but there were a couple of times that I was wondering where the story was going. The descriptive language is beautiful but at times overdone. Parts of the story read like a stream of consciousness but I could so often see myself in Tassie that I was mostly okay with it. The characters were the normal/twisted people we all know. A few elements had little relevance to the story. Not sure why we needed a quasi (Tassie's favorite word) terrorist boyfriend. I would love to know what happened to Mary-Emma but I understand why the story ended without us knowing. I would recommend this book to my reader friends and if you do pick it, up lets talk.
kristinana's review against another edition
4.0
Like other reviewers here, I am more familiar with Moore’s short stories, which I absolutely adore. Ultimately, I found the book to have the same brilliance and razor-sharp wit of the short stories even though I found it uneven.
At first, I was disappointed by this novel and found it difficult to get into because Moore was making what seemed like a series of rookie mistakes. (God, does it make me sound like an asshole to say that or what?) The first problem for me was that Moore didn’t give us enough information about the narrator before putting her into the situation of being interviewed for a job by the other main character in the book. So what happens is, we then get a rumination or further explanation from the narrator after every interview question the employer asks. The problem with this is twofold: it disrupts the flow of the conversation, and it means that we are thrust too quickly into a situation where the stakes could be high for the protagonist but we don’t yet know what those stakes are, because we don’t know the protagonist well enough. So, for example, if we had known Tassie’s background as the daughter of a potato farmer before the conversation begins, then when Sarah gets excited about the potatoes (yes, she gets excited about potatoes), it would make so much more sense and would allow us to feel something along with Tassie. Instead, we simply learn more about Tassie’s opinions on her father and the potatoes (really this does make sense in the novel) THROUGH the conversation, which maybe sounds like a good idea, but it just slows down the conversation itself and makes it hard to see how Tassie is interacting with Sarah in the moment, which should be the important thing. Then, right after that, Tassie goes home for Christmas, which has the weird effect of making you feel like Moore is stalling something. I have mixed feelings about that one, because I do understand the importance of having her go home, but it made the whole thing a little harder than it should have been to get hooked.
BUT, once I did get hooked, I was REALLY hooked! The bizarre and hilarious and poignant interviews with pregnant mothers, the critiques of the adoption industry, the commentary on America’s particular brand of racism—these were all provocative and insightful and certainly as darkly witty as any of Moore’s short stories. She does try to pack a great deal into a very short book, so in some ways it feels like the story of Tassie’s job as a nanny and the utterly tragic and heartbreaking victimization of her young charge does not gel with the story of Tassie’s family and her brother’s decision to join the army. And for me, since the story of Tassie being a nanny was so incredibly interesting, I just wanted more about that and less of the other part. But at the same time, this is a coming-of-age story, and in a sense, the story of Tassie’s brother runs parallel to Tassie’s story. Not understanding the world and not knowing what they want their place in it to be, they both enter into it with a kind of oblivious trust and optimism, to disastrous results.
This novel gets a bonus star for some nicely-done, quasi-subtle references to Jane Eyre. (The use of “quasi” in that sentence is my own reference to A Gate.)
At first, I was disappointed by this novel and found it difficult to get into because Moore was making what seemed like a series of rookie mistakes. (God, does it make me sound like an asshole to say that or what?) The first problem for me was that Moore didn’t give us enough information about the narrator before putting her into the situation of being interviewed for a job by the other main character in the book. So what happens is, we then get a rumination or further explanation from the narrator after every interview question the employer asks. The problem with this is twofold: it disrupts the flow of the conversation, and it means that we are thrust too quickly into a situation where the stakes could be high for the protagonist but we don’t yet know what those stakes are, because we don’t know the protagonist well enough. So, for example, if we had known Tassie’s background as the daughter of a potato farmer before the conversation begins, then when Sarah gets excited about the potatoes (yes, she gets excited about potatoes), it would make so much more sense and would allow us to feel something along with Tassie. Instead, we simply learn more about Tassie’s opinions on her father and the potatoes (really this does make sense in the novel) THROUGH the conversation, which maybe sounds like a good idea, but it just slows down the conversation itself and makes it hard to see how Tassie is interacting with Sarah in the moment, which should be the important thing. Then, right after that, Tassie goes home for Christmas, which has the weird effect of making you feel like Moore is stalling something. I have mixed feelings about that one, because I do understand the importance of having her go home, but it made the whole thing a little harder than it should have been to get hooked.
BUT, once I did get hooked, I was REALLY hooked! The bizarre and hilarious and poignant interviews with pregnant mothers, the critiques of the adoption industry, the commentary on America’s particular brand of racism—these were all provocative and insightful and certainly as darkly witty as any of Moore’s short stories. She does try to pack a great deal into a very short book, so in some ways it feels like the story of Tassie’s job as a nanny and the utterly tragic and heartbreaking victimization of her young charge does not gel with the story of Tassie’s family and her brother’s decision to join the army. And for me, since the story of Tassie being a nanny was so incredibly interesting, I just wanted more about that and less of the other part. But at the same time, this is a coming-of-age story, and in a sense, the story of Tassie’s brother runs parallel to Tassie’s story. Not understanding the world and not knowing what they want their place in it to be, they both enter into it with a kind of oblivious trust and optimism, to disastrous results.
This novel gets a bonus star for some nicely-done, quasi-subtle references to Jane Eyre. (The use of “quasi” in that sentence is my own reference to A Gate.)
redroofcolleen's review against another edition
2.0
A quick read that is pretentious and contrived yet thoroughly engaging, meandering, frustrating, and heartbreaking.
lisa_mc's review against another edition
4.0
“A Gate at the Stairs” starts out looking like a typical coming-of-age story, as farm girl Tassie Keltjin wavers on the cusp of adulthood a couple of years into college. The daughter of a Jewish mother and a Lutheran boutique farmer, Tassie takes a job as a nanny for a couple in the process of adopting a child. She also plunges into a passionate romance with Reynaldo, a Brazilian classmate who turns out to be something other than what he first appears.
Sarah and Edward, the eccentric couple Tassie works for, adopt Mary-Emma, a mixed-race child, and likely for the first time are confronted with the ugly realities of racism. They react by forming a discussion/support group with other parents and talking everything through on Wednesdays over wine and snacks.
Everyone in this book is in some way strained, and restrained. Reynaldo hides a large part of his life from Tassie and won't - or can't - reciprocate the depth of her feelings for him. Sarah and Edward's prickly relationship is rooted in a desperate secret of their own. Tassie's brother gives more thought than many 18-year-olds about life after high school, but doubts his choice even after he decides to join the Army. Tassie, for her part, bounces between thinking about her place in the world and aimlessly drifting, and yet the events in her life bring her to a sad cynicism: “I was realizing that all new feelings from here on in would probably be bad ones. Surprises would no longer be good.”
The plot of "A Gate at the Stairs" takes a while to get going, but it doesn’t matter because in the meantime we can leisurely revel in the magical joy of Moore’s language — like a secret or a joke, shared just between writer and reader. Moore takes images and emotions - often not beautiful ones - and beautifully describes them, incisively compares them, hauntingly dissects them.
Moore also skewers white middle-class navel-gazing on the subject of race and racism, all the platitudes and look-how-open-minded-we-are talk that go with serious discussions but woefully little experience or action. That doesn't diminish the very real exploration of race and class attitudes in the book: calm and reasoned, unafraid.
One quibble with the plot is that the story line involving Tassie's brother takes a predictable turn, and though it is written as exquisitely as the rest of the pages, one would have liked to see it turn out less obviously.
But that small flaw is only a minor detraction from this thoughtful and thought-provoking novel, the language of which is infused with a beauty so piercing readers will feel as if they should bear a scar.
Sarah and Edward, the eccentric couple Tassie works for, adopt Mary-Emma, a mixed-race child, and likely for the first time are confronted with the ugly realities of racism. They react by forming a discussion/support group with other parents and talking everything through on Wednesdays over wine and snacks.
Everyone in this book is in some way strained, and restrained. Reynaldo hides a large part of his life from Tassie and won't - or can't - reciprocate the depth of her feelings for him. Sarah and Edward's prickly relationship is rooted in a desperate secret of their own. Tassie's brother gives more thought than many 18-year-olds about life after high school, but doubts his choice even after he decides to join the Army. Tassie, for her part, bounces between thinking about her place in the world and aimlessly drifting, and yet the events in her life bring her to a sad cynicism: “I was realizing that all new feelings from here on in would probably be bad ones. Surprises would no longer be good.”
The plot of "A Gate at the Stairs" takes a while to get going, but it doesn’t matter because in the meantime we can leisurely revel in the magical joy of Moore’s language — like a secret or a joke, shared just between writer and reader. Moore takes images and emotions - often not beautiful ones - and beautifully describes them, incisively compares them, hauntingly dissects them.
Moore also skewers white middle-class navel-gazing on the subject of race and racism, all the platitudes and look-how-open-minded-we-are talk that go with serious discussions but woefully little experience or action. That doesn't diminish the very real exploration of race and class attitudes in the book: calm and reasoned, unafraid.
One quibble with the plot is that the story line involving Tassie's brother takes a predictable turn, and though it is written as exquisitely as the rest of the pages, one would have liked to see it turn out less obviously.
But that small flaw is only a minor detraction from this thoughtful and thought-provoking novel, the language of which is infused with a beauty so piercing readers will feel as if they should bear a scar.
goodcook07's review against another edition
1.0
I would call this one of my most hated books of all time. Pointless and forgettable.
latetotheparty's review against another edition
2.0
The story was interesting and some parts made me laugh out loud, but I wanted the narrator to shut up. Her POV is very stream-of-consciousness like Dave Eggers, and I didn't care for that.
saraelm's review against another edition
4.0
I'd give 4 1/2 stars if I could - wonderfully unique voice, funny and sad.
seaswift14's review against another edition
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
2.5