A book I’ve been meaning to read for years, discovered some time ago in a little library and recently rediscovered in a box mid-unpacking.
And, unlike The Grapes of Wrath, not a book I carry vague memories of from high school.
Just a few pages in, I’ve already had my hair blown back a few times by the writing, the style, and the structure.
And, yet again, I’ve been fascinated (to say the least) to see how much and how little has changed in the intervening not-quite-100 years.
P.S., a plug: I also renewed my subscription to the Oxford American. The sticky beginnings of summer bring back the old urge for Southern literature … and now feels like a good time to vote with my dollars for as many small businesses and cultural institutions as possible.