For this story, as for most literature, this format works exceptionally well. What we have to glean from the text is the author's intent. The title of the story clearly spells out, particularly after reading, that the intent is to map the course of the relationship and observe how it went wrong and how it continued to go wrong. In essence, the story is a monologue that focuses primarily upon what is inevitable, what the author cannot change about herself or about her experiences. Indeed, her awareness of her own inability to achieve intimacy with others is particularly keen, "A week, a month, a year. Tell him you've changed...the two of you are incongruous together." She wants two things from this text, to explain herself without actually discussing her own faults, fears, and problems; and to convince us that because she can talk about these kinds of relationships with such seeming clarity and authority, that there won't be a next time. The problem is, however, and that is made evident by the absolute lack of any note of hope, that the narrator will not be breaking the cycle anytime soon as long as the guy in the story doesn't change.

To understand how this story is told, we have to put ourselves in the author's shoes. How to craft a story that reveals everything and nothing all at the same time? How to entertain the reader while giving them something to chew on?

The answer is found in giving us a one-sided discussion with someone so frighteningly inept at managing her relationships that we cannot help but feel a similar form of ambivalence toward her as she does toward the boyfriend.

The author also knows that we are a wickedly voyeuristic society that thrives on the misery of others. In this, then, the author...

She is telling us that we are no better than the narrator herself - we will treat our entertainment, our involvement with her and this story, in the same manner.
But, is the author actually conscious of this fact? Is she aware of the duplicity inherent in this form of story telling? That is unclear. For many authors, the process of conveying a message is often secondary or even subconscious to the actual writing - what occurs on the page is what came out of their mind without filtration or craft.

Unlike traditional "message" pieces, however, How, does not hold up to the kind of broad cultural teaching tales that seek to evangelize a particular aspect of humanity. The author's connection to external powers, to broader history, is not present at all. In fact, what we are seeing is an amazingly effective conversation that could even be internal dialogue that takes place in a matter of minutes.

What the author succeeds in doing is bringing us into a world of self-indulgent misery and the fun of reading directly into a hopeless future. This "cautionary" tale entertains and teaches. but, what does it teach? That we are rather sick for enjoying someone else's misery, that the author has little hope for healthy relationships, that we are quite possibly in the same boat if we read the entire thing through, and that life is miserable unless you actively take control. We are entertained and educated at once. Lorrie Moore weaves an exceptionally grim tale here and it is one that achieves the goal of literature - to make the reader think and ruminate on what has been said, to give us a vicarious experience into something that, once seen, we never want to have.