Southern Bookman

Book discoveries at home during Covid-19

I'll even try to read "Howard's End."

The other day, I glimpsed a paperback of E.M. Foster's novel peeking out from my bedroom bookshelf. The book's been resting there for years unread.

Never mind that Foster's mantra "only connect" looks out-of-place in this era of social distancing. I've read through most of the other books that have been nestling dormant in my home library, so I've come to my end, as well as Howard's.

During the coronavirus pandemic, I've acquired just one new book, Nelson Algren's appreciation of Chicago, "City on the Make." Fearful of catching Covid-19 from some unmasked sneezing bibliophile, I've given up my longtime habit of going to bookstores.

My well-worn Nook e-reader stopped downloading new books and magazines, and I couldn't figure out how to change the software.

Yes, I could buy books online, but I'm boycotting Amazon, now running those absurd TV commercials about what an enlightened company it is. Besides, no recently published books interest me.

Even the libraries have been closed. The Sandy Springs Library that reopened only a couple of months before the pandemic is now doing curbside checkouts of books placed on hold, but the procedure seems as cumbersome as a Hartsfield-Jackson's TSA line.

So, I've been rediscovering books on my bookshelves, many of them I had never read or in which I lasted for only a chapter or two. I've tried to reread books I loved years before, but for some reason, I'm usually unable to return to once beloved narratives. Although I enjoyed Vivian Gornick's recent "Unfinished Business: Notes of a Chronic Re-Reader," I can't rekindle the literary flame.

Even before the pandemic, my bookstore habit had been reduced to the Peach Shopping Center's Barnes & Noble, the only bookstore left in Buckhead after the collapse of Atlanta's Oxford stores and the Borders chain. Atlanta's few remaining independent bookstores are too far away for frequent visits. Although Buckhead enjoys a profusion of supermarkets and pharmacy chains, it's a book desert.

The old Buckhead Borders, where I covered a book signing of George W. and Laura Bush and whiled away many hours, is now a Container Store. During Borders' expansive years, I also frequented a couple other of its stores. 

Oxford's flagship store in Peachtree Battle Shopping Center was one of my favorite all-time bookstores, along with the also vanished Maple Street Bookstore in New Orleans and Scribner's in New York City. I also searched for books in two other Oxford locations in Buckhead. Alas, the Oxford empire like Borders overextended, and fell when the book bubble burst. The country must have gotten dumber before electing the great unread Orange man.

As with canceled sports, I haven't missed going to the B&N, where I interviewed Rolling Stones pianist and Georgia preservationist Chuck Leavell and glimpsed Elton John flipping through the vinyl records. The Peach B&N had reduced its selection over the years, emphasizing puzzles, games and accessories. It did appear on an upswing before the pandemic arrived, but the nearness of a coughing patron in February sent my paranoia soaring.

I miss perusing literary journals and film and jazz magazines, but I receive several literary magazines and three daily newspapers at my home. I've been surprised to find Harper's and the Atlantic at my local Publix, although the latest Harper's hasn't shown up yet.

Even before the rise of Covid-19, I discovered on my shelves an engaging volume of Alice Adams short stories. Lately, I've enjoyed the late English professor and literary critic Robert Heilman's memoirs about his days at LSU during the Huey Long era and the heyday of the Southern Review under Robert Penn Warren and Cleanth Brooks.

I've recently enjoyed pleasant afternoons browsing through Mike Davis's analysis of Los Angeles, "City of Quartz," and a collection of W.H. Auden's forewords and afterwords.

While I haven't yet returned to Auden's poems, I haven't slighted poetry, delving into a collection of Paul Muldoon's collected poems my daughter won as a literary prize at Princeton and favorite poems by Richard Wilbur and others.

In a pinch, Seymour Krim and Dan Wakefield gave good doses of 1950s and 1960s New York nostalgia.

Now, "Howard's End."

 

 

AJC sportswriter Todd Holcomb looks back at Pepper Rodgers' championship season at Brown High School

AJC sportswriter Todd Holcomb gives a fascinating glimpse into Atlanta history with his article Tuesday on Brown High School's 1949 state football championship.

Legendary Georgia Tech quarterback and coach Pepper Rodgers, who died May 14 at age 88, led the Brown Rebels to the Georgia title with a 41-13 upset over Glynn Academy at Grady Stadium, which had recently opened. Rodgers also starred in basketball and baseball for the school, which opened in 1947 in Atlanta's West End.

Holcomb gives an in-depth account of Brown's season and how Rodgers and six other members of the team went on to play for Georgia Tech coach Bobby Dodd's 1952 national championship team.

A longtime chronicler and historian of Georgia high school sports, Holcomb begins his article with the 1949 death of "Gone With the Wind" author Margaret Mitchell, who was struck by a taxi while crossing Peachtree Street. Holcomb notes that much of the Atlanta of that era seems as far away as the Old South of Mitchell's novel.

Segregation remained in force - Holcomb points out that Brown couldn't play black high school Booker T. Washington's powerhouse team - and Atlanta's future as a big-league sports city lay far in the distance. The Braves still played in Boston, and Atlanta residents took the streetcar to Ponce De Leon Park, where they cheered on the minor league Atlanta Crackers. Atlanta's interstates had not been built, and the city was much smaller. The annexation of Buckhead and other areas would come in 1952.

But the city made a significant change with the opening of Brown and several other neighborhood high schools in 1947. That followed the closure of Boys and Girls High, Tech High and Commercial High, which had been in existence since the early 20th century.

Grady High, the site of the stadium where Brown won the title, is the only 1947 school still going as a high school. The other buildings have been converted to other purposes. The Brown site is now a middle school.

The 1947 schools completed in the City League, and also played Catholic power Marist, then located in downtown Atlanta. Holcomb mistakenly says that Marist was located where the Basilica of the Sacred Heart now stands. The school's site was next to the church, which opened in 1880.

In chronicling Brown's accomplishment, Holcomb quotes then Constitution sportswriter Jesse Outlar, who went on to a long career as the newspaper's main sports columnist, although The Atlanta Journal's Furman Bisher received more recognition. Holcomb also treats fans of old-style florid sportswriting with a few vintage quotes from longtime Constitution high school sportswriter Charlie Roberts.

Holcomb ends the piece with a poignant Boys of Summer look at the Brown players' lives after high school. Or. in their case, Boys of Autumn. Only two  remain. Holcomb wonderfully evokes their championship season.

 

 

 

 

College football's return unsettled

The return of college football next fall looks more and more doubtful.

NCAA President Mark Emmert recently said that football won't be played if students don't return to campus. Football "student athletes" wouldn't have even rudimentary classes to attend.

But he seemed to leave loopholes for big-time powers coming back. Would players be able to return to practice by taking online classes?

The Cal State University system announced this week that its campuses will remain closed, and classes will be given online only, with a few exceptions such as biology labs. The system said that sports will be halted without students on campus.

Three Cal State schools: Fresno State, San Jose State and San Diego State, play Division I football in the Mountain West Conference, which has said that resuming play depends upon students returning to school. Fresno State said agricultural classes in the field might be sufficient for football to kick off.

The big question is whether the SEC, ACC, Big 10, Pac-12 and Big 12 find some way to play games, even without students in classrooms. If so, football powerhouses would have even less justification for claiming their main purpose is education, rather than big-time sports. The University of California System, with Pac-12 heavyweights Cal-Berkeley and UCLA, will announce reopening plans this week..

Even if the big schools play, they are unlikely to do so before fans packing stadiums. Bands and cheerleaders probably won't be there either.

The college season might be halted abruptly if even one player tests positive for Covid-19. With cramped locker-rooms, the virus could spread through an entire team.

Football writers reported that the season might be delayed until spring 2021. So much for track, softball and baseball. Would football begin after March Madness and the Final Four, if they come back? Imagine the Rose Bowl on Independence Day.

Some pointed out that moving football to spring would disrupt players' NFL prospects. My god, the NFL draft might even be endangered.

Even before the coronavirus, football powers were fighting declining interest among students, especially when playing weaker opponents. Kids prefer drinking in the Frat House and watching on TV as Big State U hangs 60 on some hapless school no one had ever heard of before.

As the college football season appears increasingly doubtful, the NFL seems hellbent on playing, even before empty seats. The NBA is moving toward resuming play, with Florida and Arizona announcing they would host games.

If Major League baseball, the NBA, college football and the NHL remain sidelined, the already dominant NFL could be the nation's only game. But will players agree to return and risk infection?

Meanwhile, the PGA is rushing to return to action, without fans. Now players who miss the fairway won't have to worry about hitting spectators or moving back the crowd to hit a shot around a tree.

As South Korean baseball grows popular among deprived fans, MLB keeps pushing nutty schemes to resume play. But players fear MLB is using its reopening plans to impose a salary cap like other leagues have. For now, shouts of "play ball" remain dubious.

If sports are lost this fall, gamblers will resort to placing bets on when the leaves turn color.

 

 

"Where the Crawdads Sing" blends literary style, popular appeal

I'm often let down by popular novels, but I'm captivated by Delia Owens' "Where the Crawdads Sing."

Owens' book, a top bestseller for months, combines the stylistic language of "literary fiction" with mainstream popular appeal.The book's engaging cast of characters live and interact with each other in a small, special world both ordinary and magical. Part crime thriller, part coming-of-age saga and part nature study, the book offers delight for a variety of readers.

While Owens at times misfires in her personification of nature, her language gives a vivid picture of the book's North Carolina marshland and small town. The fully developed characters are true to life, as if we'd known them forever.

"Where the Crawdads Sing" appeals to young readers as well as adults. It's one of those novels that foster the love of reading, and should find a place on middle school and high school book lists.

 

 

 

 

Cecelia Watson's ode to the semicolon

Cecelia Watson's "Semicolon: The Past, Present and Future of a Misunderstood Mark" moves from a brief history of the pesky punctuation mark to a call for liberty from restrictive grammar rules.

White and Strunk's "The Elements of Style" probably has crippled more writers than encouraged them. Subverting the tyranny of usage guardians, Watson calls for writing creativity, especially in the application of semicolons.

A professor at Bard College, Watson doesn't support complete anarchy. She believes in an understanding of grammar, without allowing a slavish adherence to stifle writing.

Watson gives examples of excellent writers who have imaginatively used the semicolon beyond its common role of separating two interdependent complete statements. Passages from Shakespeare, Irvine Welsh, Rebecca Solnit and Raymond Chandler illustrate how semicolon flexibility enhances writing.

The punctuation mark, invented by the Italian scholar and printer Aldus Manutius the Elder in 1494, is shown as an essential writing tool.

She doesn't mention Saul Bellow, but I thought of his liberation from language strictures in "The Adventures of Augie March." A look at the novel's celebrated first paragraph reveals how Bellow's semicolons boost his writing.

Watson's small book, with lovely woodcut illustrations, raises enthralling questions about the philosophy of writing. Grammar purists will warn that she's opening the gates to increased language promiscuity, but her own work shows the effectiveness of elegant English.

Her treatise ends by skewering David Foster Wallace's admonition to students to conform to the standard English dialect.

I'm not sure how far she would go in allowing freedom from spelling and grammar rules. I suspect she would oppose complete abandonment of grammatical norms. However, she speaks for the value of speech outside of narrow syntactical channels. Her thorough historical analysis of how those rules developed points to their arbitrariness.

In Watson's viewpoint, semicolon mastery is a hallmark of vivid writing. Those who might think of her book as a dull pedantic exercise will discover a witty, expansive work touching upon history, philosophy, literary criticism and personal reflections. Her footnotes are like jewels in a stream.

All hail the semicolon; Watson seeks to free the funny-looking mark, and writers' thoughts. Already, I'm throwing semicolons around like doubloons from a Mardi Gras float. I don't fear the language police.

 

Alan Bennett in annual diary remembers Jonathan Miller

Noted British playwright Alan Bennett in his latest diary in the London Review of Books pays homage to fellow "Beyond the Fringe" member Jonathan Miller.

For years, Bennett has brightened the new year with his annual chronicle of the previous 12 months, published in the LRB. Bennett's record of his life in 2019 runs in the LRB's Jan. 2 issue.

The polymath Miller, who died Nov. 27, excelled in medicine, the theater and television. He was especially known for his opera productions, and hosting the TV documentary "The Body in Question."

Rising from their college days at Oxford and Cambridge, Miller and Bennett joined Dudley Moore and Peter Cook in the satirical revue "Beyond the Fringe," which eventually played on Broadway.

Along with serene depictions of the London literary world and unhurried life in suburban Yorkshire, Bennett can be cutting in his views. An entry in his 2019 diary gives a chilly assessment of Miller.

"Ours was a not unrivalrous relationship, with neither particularly generous about the other's work," Bennett says. He confesses to never seeing one of Miller's operas, and suspects Miller never watched one of his plays.

Bennett ends on a warmer, regretful note. "Now that he's gone I feel remorse as well as sorrow. But, jokes apart, it was a question of survival. I needed to write. Jonathan needed one to listen."

The diaries increasingly chronicle Bennett's aging. This year's entries often reference Bennett lying on his couch or in bed, suffering from severe arthritis. He also gives an alarming account of a fall on his bicycle, from which he suffered bruises but no broken bones or head injuries.

A disturbing sign of Bennett's looming mortality is that the diary is much shorter this year; he missed several months during the spring and summer because of open-heart surgery.

With all of his suffering, the diary is again a treat of refined thinking, with references to obscure films, actors and British writers. The diaries reflect his cultured life in suburban Yorkshire, where he enjoys gardening, old houses and reading. Bennett's at times fussy writing reveals a disgust with conservative politics, an enjoyment of small town life and an appreciation for small pleasures.

His diaries mirror my own aging, giving me encouragement and comfort. I hope to read Bennett's annual missives for years to come.

Charleston among leaders in innovation jobs growth, report finds

I was surprised to see Charleston listed tenth among American cities that had gained the most "innovation" jobs from 2005 to 2017.

The insular Southern city where the Civil War began with the firing on Fort Sumter joined such heavyweights as No. 1 San Francisco, No. 2 Seattle and No. 3 Silicon Valley on the high-tech jobs rankings compiled by the Brookings Institution, according to The New York Times.

Charleston fell far behind San Francisco, Seattle, Silicon Valley, No. 4 Boston and No. 5 San Diego. Those cities garnered nine out of 10 innovation jobs created in the country during those years, but Charleston's making the top 10 is impressive.

A charming city of old homes, fine restaurants and waterfront vistas is apparently drawing high-tech firms with its easy-going lifestyle. The home of the Daughters of the Confederacy and a towering monument to John C. Calhoun must also have a strong population of well-educated workers. I didn't realize that the College of Charleston and the Citadel were rivals to MIT.

I'm skeptical about such reports, although the Brookings Institution is highly regarded. San Francisco made the top spot, but the Wall Street Journal editorial page frequently chortles that the city by the bay is hemorrhaging jobs because of its high taxes and expensive housing. Other reports agree with the WSJ.

Charles Schwab Co., which might not qualify as an innovation company, recently announced that it will move its headquarters from San Francisco to Dallas.

Dallas was No. 3 for innovation jobs lost, according to the Brookings report. Who knew; I thought Dallas and the rest of Texas is booming.

Washington, which recently was awarded an Amazon headquarters, hit No. 6 on the negative list. Chicago led the lost jobs category, followed by Philadelphia. Los Angeles came in at No. 4. Poor Wichita, Kansas, was No. 5.

Charleston before the Civil War led the nation in the slave trade. Now it beats Los Angeles in gaining innovation jobs.

Farewell, Ernest Gaines

Many writers look back from exile at their origins. Ernest Gaines was different. To tell the stories of the illiterate, impoverished black people he knew growing up in rural Pointe Coupee Parish, he had to return to his native Louisiana.

Gaines, who gained international recognition for his books about his small plot of earth, died in his sleep Tuesday at his childhood home. The revered Louisiana author was 86.

As a child,  he worked in the fields among people a few generations removed from slavery. From his meager schooling, he'd learned to read and write, and composed letters for his co-workers and family members.

Along with many other blacks fleeing the South's racial violence, he moved to California as a young man. For the first time, he found himself free to read in a public library, and discovered Turgenev and other 19th century Russian novelists.

Loving the bohemian life of San Francisco, he graduated from San Francisco State, then received a prestigious Stegner fellowship to study writing at Stanford. The voices he knew in childhood remained with him.

Struggling in California to finish a book based on the strict, wheelchair-confined aunt who raised him, Gaines returned to Louisiana at the height of the civil rights movement. Back in Louisiana, he gained a clear vision of the plantation life he knew growing up and quickly finished "The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman," his breakthrough novel.

Tracing how history echoed in a life of quiet dignity, the book gave the world one of its most enduring characters, a woman raised in slavery who lived to 101 and saw the changes of the 1960s. Cecily Tyson gave a memorable performance as Miss Jane Pittman in a TV movie that won nine Emmy Awards.

Gaines further drew upon his memories of the black community in "A Gathering of Old Men," "A Lesson Before Dying" and other lauded books. He received a MacArthur "genius grant," and traveled the world. He always returned to his childhood home close to a body of water known as False River that had once been part of the Mississippi.

A genial, warm-hearted man who spoke with Louisiana's French-inflected cadences, Gaines revealed how the love of family and community overcame bitterness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As reading declines, Philip Roth's $2 million bequest to Newark Library supports books

Philip Roth in his novels wrote about Jewish life of his youth in Newark. Honoring that heritage, Roth left $2 million to his hometown's public library, The Wall Street Journal reported.

The bequest from Roth's $10 million estate shows his faith in reading and literature. Roth stipulated that the money be used to purchase books, not for capital projects. The gift will be placed in an endowment, and $80,000 a year in interest will go to the library to add to its selection of new books.

Before his death, Roth left his extensive book collection to the library. The books, with Roth's annotations, are housed in a dedicated room open to the public.The library also sponsors special events to honor Roth.

Growing up in a prosperous, middle-class Newark, Roth was dismayed by the city's decline in the 1960s and 1970s. During his youth, he often visited the city's public library, which opened the literary world to him.

Fewer children are discovering that world, according to an alarming report from the National Assessment of Educational Progress. National tests showed a 3 percent decline in reading ability among eighth graders and 1 percent falloff among fourth graders. Math tests showed a 1 percent gain for fourth graders and a 1 percent drop for eighth graders.

Struggling students keep falling further behind, while those at the top are regressing, the report found.

The declines reverse significant gains in test results from 1990 to 2015, according to reports. Now, as China and other countries tout educational achievements, American students fall behind

Some commentators blamed the reversals on students' dependence on mobile phones, television and computer screens. Others said more and more parents don't read to their children from an early age. Education Secretary Betsy DeVos predictably called for more "school choice" and tax breaks for private schools rather than spending more on public education.

Like Philip Roth, children deserve the gift of reading.

 

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Farewell, Harold Bloom

Harold Bloom cashed in on middle-class Americans' hunger for literary culture.

The Yale professor and prolific author of best-selling books on Shakespeare and other great Western writers died Monday at age 89 in a New Haven hospital, according to a New York Times front-page obituary.

Like Clifton Fadiman, Mortimer Adler and the Harvard "Great Books" collection, Bloom sought to impart literary knowledge to average readers. While previous workers in the trade published great-book editions for home libraries, Bloom attracted those who wanted literary wisdom without reading the books. Dwight MacDonald called the earnest desire for self-improvement "middle brow."

With his wild hair, hound-dog eyes and portly figure, Bloom was a living academic charicature. Reveling in his resemblance to the comic actor Zero Mostel, Bloom was known for his florid lectures, among Yale's most popular.

A few of Bloom's female students. including author Naomi Wolf, accused him of sexual impropriety, which he denied. Wolf said he placed a hand on her thigh.

From his perch at Yale, Bloom defended the white-male-dominated Western canon, mostly British and American. He issued thunderclaps against ethnic and women writers, whom he disparaged as the "school of resentment."

In one of his controversial books, he found that a woman at King Solomon's court had written the Jewish bible. He also claimed that Shakespeare had "invented the human," or formed the modern consciousness.

Bloom possessed a photographic memory and could recite all of Shakespeare, Romantic poetry, "Paradise Lost" and "The Fairie Queen,"according to the Times. That seems more insane than laudatory.

A literary factory, Bloom also edited a number of critical books on American and British authors, handy tools for English teachers and students.

As a critic, he ruined several writers' reputations, including Robert Lowell's. The poet's standing has rebounded in recent years.

Many who picked up Bloom's books seeking a guide to literature were left mystified. His Yale colleague, the poet John Hollander, criticized Bloom for his unclear writing, according to the Times. Bloom was notorious for using obscure literary terms.

Bloom made his mark with "The Anxiety of Influence," a ground-breaking book that asserted that young writers seek to overthrow their literary forebears through misreading their works. That was a blow against the prevailing New Criticism, which focused on texts without examining their historical and biographical contexts.

Some considered Bloom a charlatan. His unmistakable Bloomian style of bombast and encyclopedic knowledge intimidated many readers who bought his missives. Many undoubtedly were inspired to go on and read the books, using him as a guide. He began a mini-boom in Shakespeare studies issued by other academics, which continues unabated.

He championed the traditional Western book culture as elite schools like Yale instituted programs in gender studies, film, TV and even cartoons. His pronouncements were the dying cries of a a long-established literary hegemony. That his literary elitism produced so many best-sellers is amazing. In the age of Twitter-short attention spans, such success is unlikely to be duplicated.