We'll Never Be Fragile Again

by Thomas Moore, Michael Salerno (Photography)

WHAT I SEE IS BEAUTIFUL, BUT I DON'T THINK IT'S ENOUGH.

"I’m beyond thrilled to announce that my brand new novel, WE’LL NEVER BE FRAGILE AGAIN, is ready and waiting to enter the world. It’s my sixth novel, and a book that I’m really proud of. I feel it’s the best writing I’ve done so far and I’m excited to share it with you very soon.

And again, I’m honoured that the incredible Michael Salerno has given me his miraculous skills and created such gorgeous, beautiful artwork for the book.

It’s a strange, painful book about memory, regrets, art, friendship, desire and death." -- Thomas Moore

100 pages, Paperback

Published May 18, 2025

About the author

Thomas Moore's writing has appeared in various publications in Europe and America. His novella, GRAVES (2011), and his book of poems, The Night Is An Empire(2013), were both published by Kiddiepunk. His first novel, A Certain Kind of Light(2013), was published by Rebel Satori Press. His book of poems, Skeleton Costumes, was published by Kiddiepunk in 2014 and again as an expanded second edition in 2015. His second novel, In Their Arms, was published by Rebel Satori in October 2016. A collection of poems, When People Die, was published in 2018 by Kiddiepunk. Also in 2018, Moore collaborated with visual artist Steven Purtill on their book Small Talk at the Clinic, published by Amphetamine Sulphate. Thomas Moore's third novel,Alone, was released in June 2020. His fourth novel, Forever, was published by Amphetamine Sulphate in October 2021. His new novel, Your Dreams, was published in 2023 by Amphetamine Sulphate.

Reviews

[Christopher Robinson · Rating 5 out of 5]

It’s been a long time since I last wrote a review, proper or otherwise. I usually just don’t feel articulate enough to say anything of relevance these days. When I read books, I’m mainly reading for the language anyway, so most of my reviews amount to little more than me gushing over the prose style. Which I will do here, some. But there will be a little more to it than that, I promise.

I’ve loved every Thomas Moore book I’ve read to date: Alone, Forever, Your Dreams, and now We’ll Never Be Fragile Again. I’ve read them all—this latest one included—no fewer than three times apiece. They are wonderful works all, and all of extreme, elegant brevity. You could read them all in a single longish evening, easily, if you wanted to have a deeply emotionally uncomfortable evening.

Sometimes I do. It makes me feel alive.

Anyway.

That arrives me at my main point in writing this: I finally feel I have a handle on what I love so much, or most, about Moore’s writing.

I feel as if it sees me, gets me.

This may seem an odd statement, considering how it comes from the thumbs of an extremely boring, monogamous, thoroughly heterosexual American male, as so much of what Moore writes about is inextricably concerned with life as a amorously adventurous British homosexual male. Orientational and geographical differences aside though, I’m hard pressed to think of another contemporary writer that nails modern loneliness*—particularly male loneliness—and inescapable longing as well and as directly as Moore does, and that’s why I find so much to relate to in his books. In fact, I would prefer his writing didn’t resonate with me to the extent that it does, but alas… here we are.

We’ll Never Be Fragile Again may be his loneliest, most longing-saturated book of all, which is really saying something. But accordingly, it might just be my new favorite. It makes me feel so fully with so few words that I feel I could read it at least once a year for the remainder of my life and still find new things to admire. Its surface simplicity cleverly conceals incredible depths. Far from lazy, its concision is daring. Its methods are subtle and its execution is pristine. It is the distilled essence of longing, regret, alienated modernity and obsessive despair.

It may not be to all tastes, but I’m profoundly moved and invigorated by its strange, gloomy beauty. I suggest reading it late on a loveless-sleepless evening for maximum effect, but any time of day will do. You could read it during Mardi Gras and still feel fully somber.

Needless to say: highly recommended.




* maybe its a toss-up for me between Moore and James Nulick… see Valencia, The Moon Down To Earth, and Plastic Soul. Both do similar things to my
brain, though Nulick’s prose is decidedly more lush.

[Danielle Chelosky · Rating 5 out of 5]

amazing as always

[Geo · Rating 3 out of 5]

This felt like an intimate and honest examination of a particular relationship in the author’s life told through vague vignettes. I loved it, like I love all of Thomas Moore’s work. I think that this book felt more raw and unedited in the sense that it was meant for one singular person to read it, and they may never choose to. I love the quiet tragedy found in these pages, of a dead friendship, of a love lost, of longing for a time and a union that can never be what it was. I think the author is great at capturing the quiet and jagged edges of a queer life on the outskirts of any kind of mainstream or community. I always find myself relating to things in Thomas Moore’s books, and his quiet and bleak protagonists. I think this book has a lot to say on the grief of relationships devolving and transforming over time. There’s an inherent relatability to this book concerning the deterioration of friendships and love, something all humans must unfortunately experience throughout their lives as people and their places in our lives transform. The last few pages were heartbreaking but honest, and I appreciate the author’s vulnerability in allowing this part of himself be on display for his art. This wasn’t my favourite of his works, but I think that is because this book was not meant for me, but rather the person he wrote it for. Everything else is secondary, and it was a privilege to look into this little piece of the author’s heart. The title is half jokingly lampshaded by the author saying he wanted to sound deep and profound, but it’s a sentiment that’s echoed throughout the novel and reflected back to the reader, and something I feel deeply. We are all moving forward, none of us are going back. We will never be fragile again, the kids we once were still live in us, aching and longing, but we are something else, something more now. There’s grief in that. Even if we cultivate a life far beyond anything we could have ever wanted, we will all sometimes long for a time of naivety and innocence, a part of the past that’s bright and seemingly more colourful. It’s a bad habit to look too long into the past, as none of us can see things as they truly were, but it’s something that can bring joy if done sparingly. A fond remembrance for a time long past, a happy summer day with someone you once loved, even if only for a brief moment.

[Luz · Rating 5 out of 5]

i wish you were here, and we were back then

[Ben Arzate · Rating 5 out of 5]

Full Review

While his shortest, We’ll Never Be Fragile Again may be Thomas Moore’s most affecting novel. The prose is simple, but incredibly evocative and poetic. It’s also probably his most honest and insightful examination of the pain and beauty of love. I very highly recommend this one.

[Codycvlp · Rating 5 out of 5]

similar to another persons review on here and much better said, there are a lot of things written here I connected with and understood. feelings i’ve had similarly or felt and i think anyone with an ability to feel things deeply (shouldn’t we all?) would be lying if they said they didn’t feel. really great, would love to set out and take a photo to represent each chapter.

[Luke · Rating 5 out of 5]

Damn. Every time I finish something by Thomas Moore I find myself reading its final pages over and over and over again just to kind of stay is that profoundly sad moment for a little longer.

[Laura · Rating 5 out of 5]

This man writes the way my brain works.

[Tom · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thomas Moore’s new short novel, We’ll Never Be Fragile Again, is about a middle-aged gay man trying to find contentment. The narrator is shy, filled with self-doubt and anxiety, although less given to self-abasement as the narrator of Moore’s earlier novel, Forever. Like his friends, the narrator of Fragile steadies himself with a warm bath of drugs and alcohol. Unlike his friends, he is not constantly glued to either his phone or game console. These innovations serve only to further distance his acquaintances from either other, upping their collective anxiety and making their exchanges feel forced and artificial.

Contrasting with these observations are his memories of a former lover, a short-term relationship that, for the first time, allowed the narrator to accept the fact of his homosexuality, allowed him to realize it is the only community that can understand and help him, which in turn almost allows the narrator to accept himself—unless. Unless it’s just a story he tells himself.

For more of my reviews, please see https://www.thebookbeat.com/backroom/...

[Jaret Ferratusco · Rating 5 out of 5]

"I'd send text messages that tried to sound so casual that I knew they were psychotic. Then I'd try and hide my phone for hours and not answer you in some effort to punish you when you just did all the things that I wish you would have done but with me counted in. I was fucked up and evil and I hope that's changed, not that it would matter now."

There's something almost extremely rational about the daydreaming lovelorn denial of a future in the way Thomas Moore gets his point across. In this particular quote from the book, upon reading it felt like I'd been spied on at some point in a remote and embarrassing past, one that I've since come to terms with on my own, because it was only ever my problem, and yet it felt so impossible to conclude for myself. But are we ever truly alone in the shit we do to ourselves? It's lines like this, and others, that lurch out at you with a phantom emptiness, but one that is so fulfilling. When I closed the book, I felt I had a little more respect for the awkward ways we (choose to?) connect with one another.

A beautiful book.

[D Lyons · Rating 4 out of 5]

This happened to my buddy Eric

[J L · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.8/5 really good and really short as usual for TM, feels more like it’s trying to express a feeling than a story though there is a clear story

Difficulty/10, 1

[Charlie]

Prose like the object is ten feet away, you hold a magnifying glass to your eye and move it back and forth, briefly finding the right distance for the object to come into focus, but never able to maintain it. Thomas Moore has written yet another brutally interior novel, the type of book you feel like you shouldn’t even be reading. My only gripe is that the formatting from Amphetamine Sulphate (and this is fairly common with this press) seems to be more interested in inflating the page length than using the allotted space economically. But it’s really a minor complaint and doesn’t take much away from the overall reading experience.

[Nikolaj Tange Lange · Rating 5 out of 5]

*shivers*

[Joey Pavell · Rating 5 out of 5]

Damn. What a beautiful read. I bookmarked so much, because I related to so much. Highly recommend.