A Year of Southern Studies?

     In December, I wrote about 2019 being A Year of Soviet Studies.
     Well, I have continued reading but I have definitely moved away from books about the Soviet Union and Russia. It is early in the year and I have only read two books, both of them novels and both of them taking place in the South: To Kill a Mockingbird and Where the Crawdads Sing.
     Both are beautifully written gems, written be female authors and have female lead characters in their youth, and impart wisdom and insight in terms of depth with a pace that one would expect from a novel about set in the US South before they all became red states. When I say beautifully written, I mean it in a few ways. The plots of both are engaging and developed with a slow hand that intensifies as the novels progress. Both authors also are amazingly gifted at describing people and scenes poetically.
     I read Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens first. I was at a Barnes and Noble in a nearby town. I was looking for a novel to read. So, I asked the helpful folks at the information desk as they are always helpful. Before they could answer, three ladies behind me in line all said “by all means read Where the Crawdads Sing, you will love it.” I had never heard of the book but was impressed that three ladies, who did not know each other, emphatically endorsed the book. I was unaware of the author and certainly had never heard of the book. One of the ladies added, “It starts a little slow but stick with it you will not regret it.”
     They were absolutely correct. Once I got into the book, I couldn’t put it down and read it in two days. What a great book. It is a coming of age and murder mystery entwined. It is set in the Carolina marshlands and is also a celebration of nature in that part of the country. I do not want to give much away here and leave you with the recommendation that brought me to this beautiful novel, “by all means read Where the Crawdads Sing, you will love it.”
     This was the first novel for Delia Owens but not her first book. She and her husband Mark are both zoologists. In the 1980s, they moved to Africa and went into the Kalahari Desert and Savanna where they lived for seven years studying animals. Together they wrote at least three other books: Cry of the Kalahari, Eye of the Elephant, and Secrets of the Savanna. All of their books are written as travelogues, a genre I have always loved but rarely seek out. Their books, from reviews I have read, are beautifully written. The Cry of the Kalahari is an international bestseller which I have put on my reading list.
     When I finished Where the Crawdads Sing, I felt that dichotomy after reading a good book. I was fulfilled and wanted more at the same time. I then remembered that I had a copy of Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird tucked away in a drawer in my office. I was talking with my cousin in-law, Sylva, a few years ago and in the course of general chit-chat, she mentioned that she had finally gotten around to reading To Kill a Mockingbird. I mentioned that I had never read it either. A month or so later, when she finished reading it, she gave it to me.
     Anything accolades and praises I write about Harper Lee’s classic should probably evoke a big and resounding “duh” from anyone who has read the book. If you are like me and managed somehow not to have read this classic, I would recommend doing so without hesitation. It was a great novel to finish just before the Martin Luther King national holiday.

     Upon finishing the novel, I watched the 1962 film, To Kill a Mockingbird, starring Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch. Not surprisingly, I never have watched the film either. It is a very good adaptation of the book. I was glad to have watched the film after I read the book as I was happy to have Harper Lee’s well-crafted words and not the scenes from the film provide the images of the peoples and places in my mind. It was impossible to have an image of Atticus that didn’t look like Gregory Peck however.
     My wife asked me how it was possible that I had not read it in middle or high school. I had no good answer except that, we read other books. We read Mark Twain, John Steinbeck, Ernest Hemingway, Aldous Huxley, and F. Scott Fitzgerald. We read some Shakespeare as well. I never read Moby Dick until 2011. Back when I entered college, there was an assumed list of classics every student was to have read per several English and Humanities professors. Public schools including the Detroit and Livonia public schools where I went, had long before moved away from whatever was on those lists. Even though I read more classics in college, I have read many more since and will continue to do so. 

     Why haven't I read To Kill a Mockingbird on my own since graduation?  The answer to this question may be the most inane thing I have written in this blog:  I did not like the title.  There was nothing about the title that made me want to pick up the book and read it.  Oddly, when the ladies in Barnes and Noble suggested Where the Crawdad's Sing, I had the same reaction.  Yes, I am that shallow and I do judge books by their covers... er.... titles.

     There are lists all over the internet of the 25, 50, or 100 books we should read or even read before we die (like we have the ability to still read when we can no longer breathe). Depending on the list, I have read somewhere from a third to half of the books.
     If this is the year of southern studies, I may have to consider William Faulkner. Flannery O’Conner, Cormac McCarthy, or William Styron. We shall see.