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3.99 AVERAGE
3.99 AVERAGE
I came upon this older book from a family member and was intrigued by it. I most enjoyed reading about what life was like in the early 1900s, but I also liked hearing this author's ways of writing and finding subjects of her books throughout her life.
funny
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
Her depiction of her childhood is so damn lovely that it is unbelievable. Does she just remember it like that? Or did she grow up in a better time and place? It certainly belies the question that one needs trauma to be a writer.
Her recounting of her childhood is sweet but perhaps too sweet. Does anyone have a childhood that is that innocent? I do like her stories of learning to read and how much it is about the voice. That feels true and important.
It is a sweet little book. I wish it had a bit more of her experience with learning to write. Her family is interesting but probably more interesting if they were fictionalized which she claims never to have done.
It is a sweet little book. I wish it had a bit more of her experience with learning to write. Her family is interesting but probably more interesting if they were fictionalized which she claims never to have done.
I’ve always intended to read a short story called, “Why I Live at the P.O.,” by Eudora Welty.
The story has been on my to-read list for almost my entire life. I think I added the title to a library book list I made as a teenager, and I have been copying it over to new library books lists ever since. It’s usually scribbled down at the bottom of a list of books to get. But it’s always there, waiting to be read.
I have no idea why I’ve never read the story since I have had ample time to have done so by now.
I was walking through the library though and I spotted, One Writer’s Beginnings, by Eudora Welty and I thought to myself, yes! This is my opportunity to read some Eudora Welty. I had big plans. I figured that once I’d read, One Writer’s Beginnings, I’d be so enamored with Eudora Welty that I would drive straight to the library and check out, “Why I Live at the P.O.,” and all her other stories too and her novels as well. I’d be burning up with such an all-consuming desire to read Eudora Welty that if the library didn’t have the books I wanted, I’d just order them all from Amazon. I don’t order books anymore because I’m a hoarder, so that shows the intensity of my desire.
This was my plan. Well guess what? While I still think I’m going to read, “Why I Live at the P.O.,” eventually, it’s not because of the inspiration I received from, One Writer’s Beginnings, because this book was a total drag. It’s a retelling of Eudora’s childhood and it was a pretty calm and loving period. Eudora has normal, loving parents. Her mom was a nice lady. Her dad was a great guy. They would visit family back in Ohio and West Virginia every summer. Sometimes she road on trains. . . it was a big, pleasant, nothing burger. It was a big fat sandwich of boring.
If this book was a bowl of soup it would be a bean soup and it would have no seasonings. It would just be beans floating in water.
Eudora Welty even admits that her life was boring at the end of the book—which is actually a series of lectures she wrote and then delivered at Harvard University.
“As you can see, I am a writer who came of a sheltered life. A sheltered life can be a daring life as well. For all serious daring starts from within.”
That might very well me true, but that doesn’t make a book about your “sheltered life,” very riveting. I imagine that if I had attended the lectures she gave at Harvard I would have fallen asleep.
The only thing that really stood out was that her father sounded filthy stinking rich. He was high up in his life insurance job and he obviously had a lot of disposable income. He was in charge of designing the building for the Lamar Insurance Company—and it was a huge imposing gothic building with alligators and gargoyles. He later had the same architect who designed the insurance building design his own home. These people were loaded. Eudora never really mentions being privileged because she was too busy being boring.
Eudora Welty seemed nice enough and by the accounts I read online she was a funny lady and everyone liked her. When I finally do read her actual work, I am certain that her prose will be beautiful. I am afraid it will also be boring, but I guess I’ll just have to see.
The story has been on my to-read list for almost my entire life. I think I added the title to a library book list I made as a teenager, and I have been copying it over to new library books lists ever since. It’s usually scribbled down at the bottom of a list of books to get. But it’s always there, waiting to be read.
I have no idea why I’ve never read the story since I have had ample time to have done so by now.
I was walking through the library though and I spotted, One Writer’s Beginnings, by Eudora Welty and I thought to myself, yes! This is my opportunity to read some Eudora Welty. I had big plans. I figured that once I’d read, One Writer’s Beginnings, I’d be so enamored with Eudora Welty that I would drive straight to the library and check out, “Why I Live at the P.O.,” and all her other stories too and her novels as well. I’d be burning up with such an all-consuming desire to read Eudora Welty that if the library didn’t have the books I wanted, I’d just order them all from Amazon. I don’t order books anymore because I’m a hoarder, so that shows the intensity of my desire.
This was my plan. Well guess what? While I still think I’m going to read, “Why I Live at the P.O.,” eventually, it’s not because of the inspiration I received from, One Writer’s Beginnings, because this book was a total drag. It’s a retelling of Eudora’s childhood and it was a pretty calm and loving period. Eudora has normal, loving parents. Her mom was a nice lady. Her dad was a great guy. They would visit family back in Ohio and West Virginia every summer. Sometimes she road on trains. . . it was a big, pleasant, nothing burger. It was a big fat sandwich of boring.
If this book was a bowl of soup it would be a bean soup and it would have no seasonings. It would just be beans floating in water.
Eudora Welty even admits that her life was boring at the end of the book—which is actually a series of lectures she wrote and then delivered at Harvard University.
“As you can see, I am a writer who came of a sheltered life. A sheltered life can be a daring life as well. For all serious daring starts from within.”
That might very well me true, but that doesn’t make a book about your “sheltered life,” very riveting. I imagine that if I had attended the lectures she gave at Harvard I would have fallen asleep.
The only thing that really stood out was that her father sounded filthy stinking rich. He was high up in his life insurance job and he obviously had a lot of disposable income. He was in charge of designing the building for the Lamar Insurance Company—and it was a huge imposing gothic building with alligators and gargoyles. He later had the same architect who designed the insurance building design his own home. These people were loaded. Eudora never really mentions being privileged because she was too busy being boring.
Eudora Welty seemed nice enough and by the accounts I read online she was a funny lady and everyone liked her. When I finally do read her actual work, I am certain that her prose will be beautiful. I am afraid it will also be boring, but I guess I’ll just have to see.
Not so much a book on craft ala Forster or Gardiner, Welty's memoir focuses on the early events in her life that sharpened her senses and awaked her perception. I would have liked to know more about her later life as a published author, but the early family details are certainly interesting in themselves.
emotional
informative
reflective
Eudora Welty's parents were lovely people, and despite tragedies and challenges provided a perfect home that nurtured Welty gently into the world. The writing is beautiful and evocative of the 1900's, and of growing up in Jackson, Mississippi. Even though it is a very short book for an autobiography, I highly recommend it, not only for the writing, but as an example of a beautifully constructed autobiography of brief dimensions.
adventurous
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
Book #9 of 45 for 45 published in 1983. As an amateur writer I loved the moments she reflects on being a writer and writing. This book is a love letter to storytelling.
This is a memoir about Eudora's early life up to college and what influenced her writing. It is not a how-to writing book but it is insightful as to how small events and people in her life influenced her fiction. And what a memory she has!
reflective
medium-paced