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Who Will Run the Frog Hospital? by Lorrie…

Who Will Run the Frog Hospital? (original 1994; edition 2004)

by Lorrie Moore (Author)

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1,071347,805 (3.73)40
Title:Who Will Run the Frog Hospital?
Authors:Lorrie Moore (Author)
Info:Vintage (2004), Edition: Reprint, 147 pages
Collections:2017, Your library, eBook

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Who Will Run the Frog Hospital by Lorrie Moore (1994)


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Showing 1-5 of 34 (next | show all)
Excellent, as are all of Lorrie Moore's books. She is like an Alice Munro for my generation; when I read her books I get the same little bursts of empathy, like "Wow! Other people feel like that too!". ( )
  EnidaV | Oct 11, 2016 |
Beautifully written, intelligent, and often very moving novella of a teen friendship. In the outer frame of the story Benoit-Marie (Berie) is in Paris with her husband, Daniel, a medical researcher, and their marriage is on the rocks. She remembers the intense relationship she had with Sils, both of them 15 and working a summer job at an amusement park in a small American town just over the border from Canada.

The unspoken question for me: what if the most important and intense relationship of your life is the one you leave behind when adolescence ends: how do you live the rest of your life? ( )
1 vote bibliobibuli | Apr 9, 2015 |
So brief, so carefully done, so much rue. ( )
1 vote Laura400 | Jun 22, 2014 |
A beautifully written story of "the soul saving friendship of two adolescent girls poised to become women" in a small town in upstate New York in the sixties and early seventies. It's a tale of friendship, loyalty, change, and love.

Told as remembered from middle age by Berie, now in a loveless and unrewarding marriage and visiting Paris with her husband, Daniel, it is heart achingly sad in places, but also sprinkled with wit and understated humour. The sections about Berie and Sils are far superior to the short ones concerning Berie and Daniel, and it doesn't quite all hang together, but the stunning prose, astute observations and raw honesty more than make up for that.

My first exposure to Lorrie Moore, and I'm impressed. ( )
2 vote crimson-tide | Feb 18, 2014 |
On a trip to Paris years later with her husband, Daniel, Berie reminisces about her adolescent years in Horsehearts, a town in upstate New York, and especially about her relationship with Sils, her best friend in those years. In Paris, Berie’s acerbic wit is at times withering, at times desperate. But back in Horsehearts, when she was an underdeveloped teen, she was wide-eyed and naïve, though perhaps already inured to life’s irony given the summer jobs that she and Sils have working at a down market fairy-tale theme park. Sils is fifteen but looks twenty. So perhaps naturally it is Sils who takes the lead - with boys and booze and bongs, only the latter two of which Berie is able to indulge. Through sexual misadventure, larceny, and the indifference of parents, Berie and Sils test the boundaries set by Horsehearts and their own hearts.

This is a wonderfully written (almost) coming-of-age novel. Moore can do more in a few sentences than many writers can muster in whole novels. Indeed the observations, even the emotions, are often so compressed, so pared down, that it sometimes feels as though this novel could expand exponentially with the merest addition of a bit of water or air or something. Or maybe that was just me wishing that it was considerably longer than it is.

In the end, there is no clear connection between the Berie we see in Paris with Daniel and the Berie we see in Horsehearts with Sils. Even a trip back to the town for a high-school reunion fails to draw the connection. In their different ways both girls have moved on. And that, ultimately, is what is saddest in this tale. For no relationship they are ever likely to have in the years ahead will measure up to the intensity of the bond they formed in youth and cannot reforge as adults. Definitely a novel that needs rereading after you read the rest of Moore’s oeuvre. Recommended. ( )
3 vote RandyMetcalfe | Dec 3, 2013 |
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How public -- Like a Frog --
To tell one's name -- the livelong June --
To an admiring Bog!
Emily Dickinson

I am thankful that this pond was made deep and pure for a symbol.
Henry David Thoreau, Walden

Well run, Thisby.
William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream
for MFB
First words
In Paris we eat brains every night.
Joni Mitchell was keening Little Green on Sils's record player. Sils listened to that song all the time now, like some woeful soundtrack. The soprano slides and oos of the song always made us both sing along, when I was there. “Little green, be a gypsy dancer.” Twenty years later at a cocktail party, I would watch an entire roomful of women, one by one and in bunches, begin to sing this song when it came on over the sound system. They quit conversations, touched people's arms, turned toward the corner stereo and sang in a show of memory and surprise. All the women knew the words, every last one of them, and it shocked the men.
I wondered whether I would ever be in love with a boy. Would I? Why not? Why not? Right then and there I vowed and dared and bet that sky and the trees -- I swore on Estherina Foster's frave -- that I would. But it wouldn't be a boy like Mike. Nobody like that. It would be a boy very far away – and I would go there someday and find him. He would just be there. And I would love him. And he would love me. And we would simply be there together, loving like that, in that place, wherever it was. I had a whole life ahead.
I can’t give my heart away to anyone but you,” Daniel said to me in the hospital.  “Not that I haven’t tried, of course. It’s just that when I do, the other organs start a letter-writing campaign.”
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"Berie Carr, an American woman visiting Paris with her husband, summons up for us a summer in 1972 when she was fifteen, living in upstate New York and working as a ticket taker at Storyland, an amusement park where her beautiful best friend, Sils, was Cinderella in a papier-mache pumpkin coach." "We see these two girls together - Berie and Sils - intense, brash, set apart by adolescence and an appetite for danger. Driven by their own provincial restlessness and making their own (loose) rules, they embark on a summer that both shatters and intensifies the bond between them."--BOOK JACKET.… (more)

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