Larry Brown tribute

Though he died in 2004, this year's Conference for the Book (at my alma mater) was devoted to Larry Brown. While he was/is thought of as a legitimate Southern writer, I was surprised to see this honor bestowed on him this soon after his death. Regardless, I think it was a nice choice and I am especially pleased to see that the conference wasn't populated solely by academic blowhards (not that I have anything against academic blowhards). From the New York Times:

Like his characters Mr. Brown, a firefighter and largely self-taught writer, loved to drive around the county chain-smoking and drinking beer. On his car stereo he played Southern singer-songwriters like Robert Earl Keen, Alejandro Escovedo and Vic Chesnutt. As his fame grew, his passion was reciprocated. He became a patron saint and friend to alt-country, anthem-folk, hillbilly, banjo-picking, Southern soliloquizing, bourbon-poisoned, frat-boy-followed and/or cop-chased musicians. Tom Waits and Kathleen Brennan wrote a song, “Long Way Home,” inspired by Mr. Brown’s stories, and the country star Tim McGraw optioned some for movies.

On Thursday Mr. Keen, Mr. Escovedo, Mr. Chesnutt and others gathered here [Oxford] to celebrate Mr. Brown, play music in his honor and, as they say down here, tell stories on him.

Read the whole thing, if you can. I wanted to get this up today before the Times puts the story behind its "pay only" wall, but I'm not sure if it'll work. If you're a big Larry Brown fan and you can't read it, let me know and I'll try to figure out a way around it.

Anyway, what originally caught my eye was the opening to the story. Though the Times takes a lot of flak these days, they still employ some pretty good writers. Ms. Dewan opens and closes with one of Oxford's most baffling quirks -- the fact that stores (in the city limits) can sell beer, but they can't sell COLD beer. Here's the opening:

The minimarts in this town are not allowed to sell cold beer, and anyone familiar with Larry Brown or his fiction might reasonably think that he is the reason. Mr. Brown, who grew up in this area, wrote stories with many a compulsive drinker, many a winding road and nary a designated driver.

And here's the close:

Mr. Keen, who is from Texas, sprawled in the back seat of the van and grinned. The title of one of his songs, “The Road Goes on Forever,” is engraved on Mr. Brown’s tombstone. The song itself is about Sherry, a waitress with a reputation, a dollar in her tip jar and a pot-dealing, Navy-reject boyfriend.

It could easily have been one of Mr. Brown’s stories, except in the song, the six-pack she buys is cold.

Though some might consider it a little too "cute", I like it. The only objection I have is that the stores in Oxford would NEVER be called minimarts!