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Moth; Or How I Came to Be with You Again
"Thomas Heise has written a deeply moving account of loss, migration, and memory that blurs the line between poetry and prose" ( Montreal Review of Books ).
The narrator in Thomas Heise's adventurous novel tries to fuse together his present and past, abandonment by his parents, childhood in an orphanage, and a strong sense of disconnection from his adult life. The story is written in columnar, densely lyrical sections, looping and vertiginously dropping into the speaker's past, across several cities in Europe. W.G. Sebald, Samuel Beckett, and Michelangelo Antonioni's films come to mind, especially L'Avventura and Red Desert . Heise's language is precise (dirigibles "no larger than a fennel seed") and his lush, unfolding sentences offer a great, gorgeous pleasure. Moth is a haunting, one-of-a-kind novel that will stay with the reader for a long, long time.
"Neither memoir, poem, nor novel, Moth is somehow all three--an effusive ramble through the space of language and the language of memory . . . Heise seems capable of doing anything with words." -- Publishers Weekly
"It's impossible to convey in a few lines the enormous pleasures of this book--the beauty of the design, the incandescent prose, its rigor and intelligence. A deeply melancholic and moving work of art." --Carole Maso, author of The Room Lit by Roses
"The silence between the words, between the pages is terrific." --Michael Martone, author of The Blue Guide to Indiana
The narrator in Thomas Heise's adventurous novel tries to fuse together his present and past, abandonment by his parents, childhood in an orphanage, and a strong sense of disconnection from his adult life. The story is written in columnar, densely lyrical sections, looping and vertiginously dropping into the speaker's past, across several cities in Europe. W.G. Sebald, Samuel Beckett, and Michelangelo Antonioni's films come to mind, especially L'Avventura and Red Desert . Heise's language is precise (dirigibles "no larger than a fennel seed") and his lush, unfolding sentences offer a great, gorgeous pleasure. Moth is a haunting, one-of-a-kind novel that will stay with the reader for a long, long time.
"Neither memoir, poem, nor novel, Moth is somehow all three--an effusive ramble through the space of language and the language of memory . . . Heise seems capable of doing anything with words." -- Publishers Weekly
"It's impossible to convey in a few lines the enormous pleasures of this book--the beauty of the design, the incandescent prose, its rigor and intelligence. A deeply melancholic and moving work of art." --Carole Maso, author of The Room Lit by Roses
"The silence between the words, between the pages is terrific." --Michael Martone, author of The Blue Guide to Indiana
- GenresFiction
178 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 14, 2013
1 person is currently reading
50 people want to read
About the author
Thomas Heise
7 booksThomas Heise is the author of four books: "The Gentrification Plot: New York and the Postindustrial Crime Novel" (2022), which is part of Columbia University Press's highly regarded "Literature Now" series; the experimental novel "Moth" (2013), which was nominated for the Foreword Book of the Year; the interdisciplinary literary study "Urban Underworlds: A Geography of Twentieth-Century American Literature and Culture" (2011), which is part of the Mellon-funded American Literatures Initiative; and Horror Vacui: Poems (2006), whose title poem won the Gulf Coast Prize in Poetry. His work has appeared in numerous magazines and journals, including Modern Fiction Studies, Twentieth Century Literature, Arizona Quarterly, The Journal of Popular Culture, Gulf Coast, Columbia: A Journal of Literature and Art, Ploughshares, and others. He's a faculty member at Penn State (Abington) and lives in Manhattan.
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
February 12, 2014
This is one of the most consistently beautiful books I've read in the past few months (forays into Steve Erickson, who I think Heise would benefit from reading for both inspiration and guidance, aside), but (consequently?) I'm not sold on its description as a 'novel.' In no way is it a traditional novel -- but -- in its pseudo-memoir, rambling-sentence, temporality-eschewed way -- it never really attempts to be, so I'm not sure why it's marketed as such. It's, essentially, beautiful prose -- a love affair with language (while cheating on language with the concept/theme of memory). Not to say that it's exclusively beautiful prose, though -- there were passages where I was absolutely positive Heise had tapped into something purely fundamental about humanity. I don't usually shove quotations in my reviews but this one had me dumbfound:
"I remember the promise of lyricism, which over years was reduced to a plain recounting of facts and this left us in crisis, trapped in the hard architecture of the actual we ourselves had built, what had begun only as a single room to store our certainties like pressed flowers and ornate bottles of perfume we no longer wore but could not bring ourselves to discard when the essence was gone, and almost imperceptively this expanded until the conviction the here-and-now was all there ever was congealed into our new truth, that we would never love again." (109)
Yeah, the prose is difficult to parse -- but unlike Women as Lovers and Vienna OO, the liberties with grammar didn't bother me at all. They feel natural, honest, like the genuine flow of memory Heise seems to be trying to replicate here. To be fair, there were moments of self-indulgence and inexperience (moments Steve Erickson, writing in a similar manner/style, avoids completely -- and, due to style if not content, I can't help but compare the two) ----- but as a rule, the book moves just as it claims it will -- on its own terms, in its own temporal and sensical universe.
The weirdness for this comes from the fact that I did my undergrad in English at McGill, where Heise taught then and teaches now (and where I'm currently studying as an Education grad student), and that palpably affected my reading experience ---- I never took a class with him, but there's something seriously surreal about reading the inner narrative of a man with whom I could easily walk down a hill to chat. It's immediate, unsettling -- just like Moth, and just like Moth intends to be, I think.
Ideal Soundtrack Song: The Boxer by the Editors
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9T5wTl...
"I remember the promise of lyricism, which over years was reduced to a plain recounting of facts and this left us in crisis, trapped in the hard architecture of the actual we ourselves had built, what had begun only as a single room to store our certainties like pressed flowers and ornate bottles of perfume we no longer wore but could not bring ourselves to discard when the essence was gone, and almost imperceptively this expanded until the conviction the here-and-now was all there ever was congealed into our new truth, that we would never love again." (109)
Yeah, the prose is difficult to parse -- but unlike Women as Lovers and Vienna OO, the liberties with grammar didn't bother me at all. They feel natural, honest, like the genuine flow of memory Heise seems to be trying to replicate here. To be fair, there were moments of self-indulgence and inexperience (moments Steve Erickson, writing in a similar manner/style, avoids completely -- and, due to style if not content, I can't help but compare the two) ----- but as a rule, the book moves just as it claims it will -- on its own terms, in its own temporal and sensical universe.
The weirdness for this comes from the fact that I did my undergrad in English at McGill, where Heise taught then and teaches now (and where I'm currently studying as an Education grad student), and that palpably affected my reading experience ---- I never took a class with him, but there's something seriously surreal about reading the inner narrative of a man with whom I could easily walk down a hill to chat. It's immediate, unsettling -- just like Moth, and just like Moth intends to be, I think.
Ideal Soundtrack Song: The Boxer by the Editors
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9T5wTl...
April 7, 2014
A stunning, and stunningly beautiful exploration of the counterpoint of lyric and narrative. Heise kept me riveted to the page not primarily through tensions of story (those these did emerge), but through the kind of fascination one finds in venturing into an unknown landscape.
"I think two thoughts at once and the impossibility of expressing them as one is where anxiety and later eros originate." pg. 64
The dualities of the book multiply as the complexities of language and insight deepen. I was pulled through the pages as if across a tightrope of reflections, humors, ethers, journeys, cities real and imagined— barely held in balance against the empty air of loss and grief.
I am very grateful for this deeply moving book.
"I think two thoughts at once and the impossibility of expressing them as one is where anxiety and later eros originate." pg. 64
The dualities of the book multiply as the complexities of language and insight deepen. I was pulled through the pages as if across a tightrope of reflections, humors, ethers, journeys, cities real and imagined— barely held in balance against the empty air of loss and grief.
I am very grateful for this deeply moving book.
September 13, 2025
This might be my all time favorite book. I couldn't put it down, and when I had to, all I could think of was picking it up again.
June 21, 2018
"Moth; or, how I came to be with you again," by Thomas Heise, is a work that will leave the reader questioning the paths leading to their existence and the circumstances dictating their present reality. Deeply moving and reflective, Heise captures a wistful life in his work through densely written prose cut with lyrical passages that test the boundaries of the written word and highlight the dream-like state of the narrator’s mental temperament.
"Moth" is a memoir many wish they possessed the courage to write, but that so few can honestly commit to paper for fear of exposing their selves to the world. Heise delves into this intimate fear that is part of the human condition, pondering to the reader, “who does not want to be pursued, to be laid claimed to, knowing that one’s existence was a matter of dire consequence for another?” In a haunting voice that is stirring in its beauty and candor, Moth challenges the conventional framework in which life is viewed.
"Moth" is a memoir many wish they possessed the courage to write, but that so few can honestly commit to paper for fear of exposing their selves to the world. Heise delves into this intimate fear that is part of the human condition, pondering to the reader, “who does not want to be pursued, to be laid claimed to, knowing that one’s existence was a matter of dire consequence for another?” In a haunting voice that is stirring in its beauty and candor, Moth challenges the conventional framework in which life is viewed.
August 8, 2015
I was under the impression this was a book of poetry, but I was delighted to discover it was a novel, and oh, what a novel. What Moth is about hardly seems relevant and for readers looking for a plot with a capital p you will need to look elsewhere. This book, which explores memory, delusion and obsession, is about journey. If you are like me–drunk and enthused by the careful music of well-crafted prose and haunting imagery, then abandon yourself to the flow of the dreamlike lyricism of this book. Heise's narrative is gratifyingly strange, sensual, brave and evocative. I was reminded of Mood Indigo, a Belgian movie released in 2013, based on the book L'Ecume des Jours by Boris Vian. You travel the landscape of Moth as if in a movie, and indeed, the author confirmed this was his intention. A delicously lovely read.
September 3, 2015
Thomas Heise's "Moth" partakes of Borges's sacramental quotidian, the dazed certitude of Raymond Carver, and the pellucid melancholy of Chekov's flash fiction. In short, I don't know what genre or exactly what kind of document it is, which makes me love it all the more.
July 6, 2013
what a strange and haunting book!
September 8, 2013
The author is obviously a craftsman par excellance. I am still looking for something being said above the level of the plot.
December 14, 2018
Beautifully written. I thought this was a memoir when I picked it up, but have since seen it described as a novel. Whatever. Lyrical prose and melancholy keep it engaging.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews