songs of the south

as a college freshman in north carolina i took a class in southern literature. i was on my second major, english, and the idea of a class that graded me on reading was appealing. what i didn't expect was how much i would come to love that particular genre.

the likes of whitney otto and zora neale hurston entranced me. in their words exists a richness, a warmth and a sagacity that is incomparable in my reading experience . i could feel them. i could relate to them in an inexplicable way. the life i have lived gives me no claim to the connection i feel with these stories. i have no roots in the south, nor have i spent much time there, truth be told. and yet there is something familiar about the emotion they evoke.

for the past few years, the bulk of my reading materials have consisted of biographies and historical fiction. it has been some time since i read a piece of southern lit. but before leaving for the duck, i randomly picked up a book i thought might be a quick beach read.

i never got to it. but fortunately for me, my commute into the city over the last several days has given me an opportunity to play catch up. and i am once again astounded by the beautiful prose that exists when a southern writer puts pen to paper, or finger to keyboard.

'you don't know the south if you don't know it's summers. damp and slow, rich with the textures of life simmered down to its essence and haunted by the memories of every season past.

and hot? hell yes it's hot, but that's not the whole of it. from may to september the south takes on both a veneer and a depth you don't find in any other season, any other region. it's hopscotching over a tar road to keep from burning bare feet and the slap of ice-box cold rushing out of a grocery store door on a sweltering afternoon.

to know the south is to know the smell of all things fertile and growing. of earth and leaves. of honeysuckle and lilac. and the sweet, sticky stench of rotting fruit. if you don't know that, then you don't know the south.'