Rex Tells The World My Secret
According to the blognonymous Rex L. Camino, it is undeniably true that I am a bad person. While I love to be slandered in the blogosphere, I cannot deny that I am no fan of Faulkner. I appreciate the man's technical prowess, yet I just don't get into the whole Southern literature thing--blame the 21 years of being a yankee for that.
As far as I'm concerned, Pat Conroy said it best. All Southern literature can be summarised in one sentence:
"On the night the hogs ate Willie, Mama died when she heard what Daddy did to Sister."
posted by Kat Coble @ 9:49 AM
7 comments
7 Comments:
Color me bad.
I just don't get Faulkner. The goings on of the residents of Yoknapahthnesawa County bore me silly. The only Snopes I like are the internet hoax people and the bankrobbing Snopes brothers from 'Raising Arizona'.
The incessant worshipping at the altar of Ol' Drunk Bill is one of the biggest turnoffs regarding Southern Literature since Streisand's "Prince of Tides".
Hahaha! I'm glad I wasn't taking a drink when I read that.
But I actually do love Southern literature. I just appreciate the joke too.
You mean to say that Faulkner didn't also write "Prince of Tides"? I might have him confused with someone else then.
Sorry about the confusion.
But you are still a bad person for reminding me that the hogs ate Willie. Damn you, hogs.
And damn you, Willie, for what you were doing to the hogs.
I had a buddy in the army who was referred to as The Intellectual Snob. He loved looking down his nose at the works of Pat Conroy. His favorite put down was "Oh, yeah, HE'S the new Faulkner."
Whereupon I would reply, "Nah, Faulkner couldn't write an ass-rapin' scene, near as good as this 'un."
I confess that I do have much love for Pat Conroy. The Great Santini is fantastic, and the book for PoT is in my top 10 favourites. Ass-rapin' aside, that entire book reads like the best prosaic poetry. After reading it I've always had a supreme hatred of The Junior League. If only they'd let his mama in!
His writing is superb, even if he has been co-opted by the Oprah book club types and their bored-housewifes-lookin'-for-something-to-fill-their-empty-lives-with-ilk. But as a person, he comes off as a cry-baby with Daddy issues. Just like in The Great Santini!
The less said about big O's book club the better. You did sum it up nicely.
My favourite anecdote about the famously depressive Conroy was that The Great Santini was SO autobiographical that his mom gave a copy of it to the judge presiding over her divorce as proof of her husband's violent nature.
There was an article on Conroy several years back--around the release of The Beach House that delved into his crackpottery. He's apparently so depressive that he can't leave the house to buy groceries and forgets to shower for weeks on end.
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