Summer Re-Reading

 Like most bibliophiles, my recurring complaint is "So many books; so little time." Knowing that I will never read all the books I'd like to read and that authors are going to keep writing more books, I have already accepted the ruling that before giving up on a book, a person should read 100 pages minus one's age. Even though I know books that took time for the pay-off, I still give up on more these days. I will read a book for book club I might not havre chosen for myself, but I will also choose not to read one if, partway in, I find no redeeming value.

The other challenge I face, though, is the books I have loved that I would love to revisit. Sometimes, I have a hard time justifying re-reading when I have books on my own bookshelf that I haven't read yet. I do find ways to justify re-reading, though. When I taught literature regularly, I made sure that--given the option--I selected books to teach that I would enjoy again and again. One that comes to mind is Charles Frasier's Cold Mountain. I have lost count of how many times I have read it, but it would still be a book I would take to a desert island.

This summer, knowing I am going to be teaching one of our campus's new literary inquiry classes, I have had the delightful pleasure of some favorites for the first time in several years. The course, which will be called Southern Storytelling and Song, will include different genres, so I have been tearing through the ones I have selected, and then I've read others by the same or similar authors.

I read Eudora Welty's One Writer's Beginnings in the first years I taught. I remember some details from the story--hers and those of her parents--so clearly. Returning to her story was just as pleasurable as I remembered. I will also include at least a couple of her stories I love: "Why I Live at the P.O." (particularly lovely if one can find a recording of Welty reading the story herself) and "The Worn Path," often anthologized.

I have also returned to some of the Flannery O'Connor short stories I loved teaching in AP English: "A Good Man Is Hard to Find," "The Life You Save May Be Your Own," "Good Country People," and "Revelation." I never ceased to be surprised when I see myself in some of her "grotesque" characters. Last summer, we visited friends who had retired and moved from Atlanta suburbs to Milledgeville, Georgia. We visited Andalusia, O'Connor's home, where the peacocks have outlived her.

My selections also reflect some of my favorite current authors. I had not read Tony Earley's Jim the Boy since it was new, though I have picked up everything else he has written since. Having just finished Niall Williams' This Is Happiness, I found the parallels between the stories uncanny, both so beautifully told.

I have been a huge fan of Ron Rash's writing since his novel One Foot in Eden won recognition at Charlotte's Novella Festival.  For the class, I am including his short story collection Burning Bright. No writer I know does a better job of creating unforgettable scenes and images in his stories (what poet Cathy Smith Bowers calls the "abiding image"). I know I will also include some of his poetry in the course, which means I get to read those collections again this summer too.

I have noticed that my list of authors weighs heavily toward North Carolina writers. Earley teaches at Vanderbilt now, but hails from Rutherfordton (pronounced locally with just two syllables.) Rash read at the Writers Symposium at Caldwell Community College while I was teaching there and also presented at our state English teachers conference, as did Clyde Edgerton. I am still vacillating between Raney, his first novel, and Walking Across Egypt, another favorite. 

When I re-read a copy of a book I have read (or taught) before, I often find myself turning to the back cover to make note of passages I love, only to find I had marked the same sections before. 

I realize that this re-reading streak also helps me justify keeping books on my shelf long after I finish them. Who knows? I might want to revisit those other books. too.

Summer Re-Reading

Southern Literature Challenge

I just saw a post "My Assignment: Pick 12 Southern Writers" from Dannye Romine Powell, poet and long-time columnist for the Charlotte Observer, announcing that she had been asked by a by a local book club to recommend works by Southern writers. She shares her list, which includes some works I've read (such as Eudora Welty's short story "A Worn Path" which came up in a conversation I had today) some works I haven't read by authors I have (Josephine Humphreys, for example), and others with which I was unfamiliar.

She finishes with a mention of a short list of writers she'd omitted--in this particular list at least: William Faulkner, Walker Percy, Pat Conroy.

Anyone knows--Powell knows--such list a highly debatable. Isn't that what makes them fun? I'm going to take a day or two for my own list I would have assigned to the same request, but I'd love to hear yours.

Southern Literature Challenge

Mississippi Mecca

One of the perks of teaching English, for me, is the chance to attend conferences across the country.  I've always found myself rejuvenated and energized after spending a few days sharing teaching ideas, brainstorming solutions to our common challenges, and yes--talking about books with people who love books and encountering authors who might have written the next good book I might teach in class.

Mid-February I went to Jackson, Mississippi, with four of my teaching colleagues to attend the conference of the Southeast Region of Two-Year College Associate (TYCA). The local committee had obviously worked hard to put together a great conference. Since the organization was celebrating its 50th birthday, we were invited to "Party Like It's 1965."

In addition to the sessions, the conference featured authors.  Husband-and-wife team Tom Franklin and Beth Ann Fennelly read from their novel The Tilted World, and Jessmyn Ward, whose novel Salvage the Bones won the National Book Award in 2011, read from The Men We Reaped, the story of the death of brother and three other young black men from the same town.

Since the other four members of my group had not been to Mississippi before and weren't sure they'd have a chance again, we planned our trip so that we'd have time to visit sites connected to two very important American authors.

We visited the home of Eudora Welty the day we arrived and were treated to a wonderful tour, with a most excellent docent Cynthia Lyons provided plenty of stories and details along the way.  I felt quite at home, especially with the stacks of books on every conceivable surface, a decorating trend I much prefer.

I've always been as much a fan of Welty's superb memoir One Writer's Beginnings as of her fiction, so the memorabilia and the film that wrapped up our tour satisfied nicely.  Ms. Lyons told us that as long as Miss Welty was in good health, she was often seen at her front door.  In fact, as long as she could, she would sign books people brought by, and when health prevented such generous hospitality, people would leave their books on the porch, and she would sign and leave them for retrieval later.

My musician friends from nearby Madison also met us at Brent's Drugs, the little soda shop that appears in the movie The Help, and later showed us other areas from the movie.

At the end of our conference, we rode north toward Oxford to visit Rowan Oak, the home of William Faulkner, that other literary giant of Mississippi.  We were lucky enough to have my friend B.C. Crawford joining us, pointing out other sites of local interest in Oxford as well.

We arrive at Rowan Oak during a deluge.  We had to scurry up the tree-lined drive to the house. Inside we were given a little brochure and told to guide ourselves.  Evidently, the surviving members of Faulkner's family have been less generous with details and artifacts, so the home was a bit more sparse than Welty's.  In our group, we discussed the potential of producing a podcast for the house tour, especially when we saw the pictures from Faulkner's daughter's wedding and recalled the apocryphal story that he had told her, nodding toward the crowd assembling for her nuptials, "You know they're here to see me, not you. Right?"

Of course, a visit to either Jackson or Oxford would have been incomplete without visits to the two wonderful independent bookstores. Since I've been a "First Editions Club" member at Lemuria Books for years, I was pleased to see the actual brick and mortar store in Jackson. Then in Oxford, after a perfect lunch at Ajax Diner, we visit Square Books, taking time to look at all the signed author photographs.

I wonder sometimes what math teachers or science teachers do at conferences. Do they stand in line at book signing? Make pi jokes?  Share scantron tips?  They can't have as much fun as we English instructors do when we're out on holiday.

Mississippi Mecca

Centennial Celebration

I'd be remiss to let the week pass without acknowledging the one hundred anniversary of the birth of Eudora Welty yesterday, April 13. I have loved her short stories and her longer works of fiction--especially "Why I Live at the P.O.," which is best experienced by hearing the author read it herself. My favorite of all her works, though, is her memoir, One Writer's Beginnings.

I remember reading it when I was traveling with the Mars Hill debate team in one of my first years of teaching. The book is so small I read it between rounds. She works such magic with her narrative that when I went back to the book to find my favorite part, I found that what I remembered seamlessly had actually been woven throughout the book. The strongest image is her discovering of her mother's keepsakes--particularly a long braid and a pair of nickels that she learned had been placed on her dead brother's eyes. I also remembered the story of the set of Dickens novels that had arrived in a crate and were saved from a house fire.

I never saw Miss Welty in the flesh, but I've met so many people who have their stories. One woman in my hometown had lived for several years in Mississippi a neighbor to Welty. Dori Sanders, the charming South Carolina author, tells a story of attending a presentation once when she knew Eudora Welty would be in attendance. She arrived early enough to get an aisle seat, but Sanders' mothers teaching wouldn't let her sit there. After she moved down to leave the aisle seat vacant, she revealed, "Miss Eudora came and sat by me." The last, indeed, shall be first.

When I heard the news of Welty's death, I felt an inexplicable sadness, but then I started getting emails from all over, mourning the loss to the literary world. Oxford American ran a special section of tributes to her in the next issue. She may not have lived to celebrate this 100th birthday, but I feel sure her stories will have staying power.

Centennial Celebration