Flannery O’Conner “Three by Flannery O’Conner”
This was another gift from a co-worker after I wrote about not having many books written by females. She gave this to me about two years ago.
But hell, what do you expect? It’s an anthology of three different books, meaning that I have to read the equivalent of three books, but it’s only going to count as one.
This is not good time management.
So, Flannery O’Conner, quoting from the back cover, is a “strong, fiercely comic” writer steeped in the southern rhythm, ala Faulkner, whom I haven’t read. In the 26 page introduction, Sally Fitzgerald harps on this point a lot.
You know when you need 26 pages to discuss a writer’s style, you’re in for a tough read, right?
But the thing is, O’Conner really isn’t hard to read. But it’s so incredibly dated in its presentation that it’s no longer funny. Making fun of drunk southern preachers may be good fodder for Hee Haw, but it’s hardly comic genius in this day and age. That’s what the introduction seemed to be trying to put across. “No really! This is funny stuff! See, if you put it in context with the time it was written, you can see how Buddy Epson and Jerry Lewis found their niche!”
For this we should be grateful?
Like I said, there were three books converged into one for this book. The first two Wise Blood and for The Violent Bear It Away, were so similar that O’Conner, if she were still alive, could easily make formulaic teen sex comedies — if said sex comedies were set in the South and featured a preacher. The final book, Everything that Rises Must Converge, a title that ensures hilarity and hijinks, turns out to be a group of short stories.
Her short stories are better, but not by much. No wonder the South lost.
Here’s hoping it doesn’t rise again.
