The first R

All over the blogosphere, two topics stand out today: New Orleans and gas prices. My thoughts on those topics: the scene in New Orleans is one of total and complete devastation and I saw $2.99 a gallon at lunch today (up even from this morning). Not to be flippant, but others out there are documenting the hurricane damage and I have nothing to offer on the gasoline front, so I'm going to steer clear of both. Instead, I'll do a book blog.

As some of you may know, I have had the opportunity to review a few books for the local paper. One I gave an above average, one I deemed should be used only to level a wobbly table, and one received an absolutely outstanding! You can read my thoughts using the preceding links, but I want to say a few words about the last book.

I am viewed as a VERY critical reader. It takes a lot to impress me when it comes to the written word, but Nanci Kincaid did it. As Hot as It Was ... is a wonderful book. My biggest complaint with most Southern Lit these days is that many authors seem to think if they were born in, ever lived in, or maybe just passed through the South that makes them a Southern writer. Oh, and throw race into the book, preferably in a heavy-handed way, and you've written a Southern novel. Truth is, it's not that simple. Ms. Kincaid does it right.

I loved everything about this book -- the opening passage about trying to find a cool spot in the summer, the presence of a "yard cat", the story behind the title, even the polite competition between the Baptists and the Methodists in town. Well, I wasn't so fond of the episode with all the snakes, but then again people tell me my fear of snakes is a tad extreme. They're wrong, but that's what they tell me. Anyway, if you like the works of Eudora Welty, Lewis Nordan, Carson McCullers, etc., you need to read this book. Some folks have compared it to Mockingbird, but that's not really fair. Mockingbird occupies such an iconic place (deserved or not) in the pantheon of Southern Lit that no book will fare well in comparison. Still, there are similarities.

This summer was kind of busy, so I didn't get to do any reviews. Plus, I have a theory that the book woman at the Daily has it in for me. Seriously, I called one week to ask about 3 books and she claimed all 3 were gone! Still, I have plenty to read in St. Caffeine's personal library.

Right now I'm reading William Kennedy's Alabany books. I tried to watch the movie version of Ironweed once and got so frustrated that I never picked up the book. Thanks to a used bookstore in Charleston, WV, I'm now attempting to correct that mistake. Sor far I've almost made it through the first book and I'm very pleased. I know this is high praise, but it reminds me of Fitzgerald or Hemingway. The characters are larger than life and they get into and out of larger than life scrapes. There's none of this "let's sit around and analyze our hopes and dreams" that is so prevelant in modern lit. No, these guys go out and live their hopes and dreams. Plus, there's no guarantee of a happy ending. The similarities to Gatsby in the first book obviously are intentional, but that's okay with me. Rip off a classic if you will, but you really need to do a good job if you're going to attempt that.

On a more topical note, ... I don't read a lot of nonfiction, but I recently read one that made a deep impression on me. Bayou Farewell is the story of the disappearing marshes in southern Louisiana. Parts of the book describing how the reduced marshland provides less hurricane protection for New Orleans seem particularly prescient today. Essentially, though, this is a book about a disappearing country and a disappearing way of life. Not only is the land flat out disappearing, the folks down there live such a singular lifestyle that they can't simply pack up and move somewhere else. They are tied so closely to the land/water that moving them will eliminate the culture.

Mike Tidwell is a journalist and at times he goes a tad overboard with the maudlin descriptions of the noble fisherman, etc. For the most part, though, he keeps that in check. Instead, he simply tells their stories. He spent time (a year? parts of a couple of years? I don't remember exactly.) simply living among the people. He didn't set up an anthropologist's laboratory to observe, he just showed up with a backpack and asked if anyone needed a deck hand or if they'd simply be willing to give him a lift to the next town down the bayou.

Furthermore, he doesn't go off on a rabid environmentalist screed. I firmly believe in protecting the environment and I belong to several environmental organizations, but I'm also an economist who recognizes the concept of opportunity cost and careful analysis (see yesterday's post). Hence, I don't have much patience with the folks in "the sky is falling, progress is bad" movement. Tidwell, for the most part, steers clear of that. He does mention global warming a bit, but he focuses on the proximate causes -- oil company canals through the marshes and the extensive levee system built to protect New Orleans and the lower Mississippi from (river) flooding.

As I said, it is a topical read given recent events AND I think it's a very well written book. Hopefully the authorities will listen a bit as they rebuild New Orleans. Oh, if you wish to help the folks down that way, click here.