Friday, June 10, 2011

A Foray into Southern Literature

I've always felt that reading and travel enhance each other. I read about witches and pilgrims in Massachusetts; when Emma Bovary pined: "What was it like, Paris?" I was on a bench in one of Paris' manicured gardens, reveling in what it was like; I laughed reading Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods beside our campfire in Smoky Mountain National Park.


To enrich our camping trip to the Deep South this fall, I'm making an effort to dig into Southern Lit. Some of the books will be frivolous and fun, like Fried Green Tomatoes; others will be weightier: Look Homeward, Angel by Thomas Wolfe and Blood Done Sign My Name. I'm even venturing into the intimidating world of Faulkner: As I Lay Dying (I've been too scared to try anything by Faulkner before, but it is time, my dear, it is time.) This reading project dovetails nicely with another ongoing one entitled "Read-all-the-books-I-didn't-finish-in-English-class-or-worse-yet,-haven't-read-at-all-and-I-call-myself-an-English-major?!"


A couple of the books on this notorious list that also correspond with my Southern project are:

Huck Finn --shockingly never read
Uncle Tom's Cabin--never finished. I blame the blue-eyed boy I met and fell in love with that semester. Worst GPA ever.

That's as far as we go with that list. It's too embarrassing to ponder further.