Take a photo of a barcode or cover
3.99 AVERAGE
3.99 AVERAGE
reflective
medium-paced
funny
informative
inspiring
lighthearted
reflective
“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.”
I began working my way through Eudora Welty's Collected Stories after I would stumble on recommendation after recommendation for them. Along the way, I had the opportunity to read this updated edition of her short reflective memoir. This volume was borne out of an invitation to deliver three lectures at Harvard University.
The book is broken up into three sections: Listening, Learning to See, and Finding a Voice. Within, Welty conversationally reveals vignettes from her childhood that developed her skills as a writer. Her use of language is rich, as in this line: "My mother read secondarily for information; she sank as a hedonist into novels." One aspect that stood out to me, only because of our current realities with Covid-19, were her passing mentions of her family having the Spanish Flu in 1918.
The earlier sections focus more on childhood stories, but in the last section Welty dwells more on her insights on writing and her focus when she's crafting a story: "The frame through which I viewed the world changed too, with time. Greater than scene, I came to see, is situation. Greater than situation is implication. Greater than all of these is a single, entire human being, who will never be confined in any frame."
This was a pleasure to read and has heightened my interest to returning to her short stories, which were only set aside due to more pressing commitments.
(I received a digital ARC from Scribner via NetGalley in exchange for my honest review.)
The book is broken up into three sections: Listening, Learning to See, and Finding a Voice. Within, Welty conversationally reveals vignettes from her childhood that developed her skills as a writer. Her use of language is rich, as in this line: "My mother read secondarily for information; she sank as a hedonist into novels." One aspect that stood out to me, only because of our current realities with Covid-19, were her passing mentions of her family having the Spanish Flu in 1918.
The earlier sections focus more on childhood stories, but in the last section Welty dwells more on her insights on writing and her focus when she's crafting a story: "The frame through which I viewed the world changed too, with time. Greater than scene, I came to see, is situation. Greater than situation is implication. Greater than all of these is a single, entire human being, who will never be confined in any frame."
This was a pleasure to read and has heightened my interest to returning to her short stories, which were only set aside due to more pressing commitments.
(I received a digital ARC from Scribner via NetGalley in exchange for my honest review.)
I absolutely loved this inspiring memoir---it's a keeper, for sure! I remember reading, "Why I Live at the PO" in high school and it was really fun and encouraging to read her perspectives on how her life influenced her writing. I love how she deconstructed the conversations and experiences of her childhood to see how they shaped her as a writer. My own has done the same for me...as has all other writers', I assume.
I liked how she talked about listening for stories. When I'm traveling I'm LOOKING for stories. Just another great reminder of the importance of carrying a journal to record experiences as they happen. About two-thirds into the book, I ordered a book of her short stories. I'm looking forward to reading more!
My favorite quote came from page 57: "Emotions do not grow old." I read this book while my husband and I were on a visit to Oregon to visit his father. He has a terminal illness and we both knew this very likely could be the last time we'd see him. This quote made me think of Leo and how, though his body is dying, his love for his family is very much alive. I hope I always remember the proud look he had and the shine in his eyes as he introduced my husband to his nurses, "Yes, this is my son." He was so excited and surprised to see my husband show up in the hospital---he didn't know we were coming. There was laughter, tears, frustrations, joys, and more the few days we spent with him---all very real emotions from a family who very much loves and respects their father. I love this quote. It will always make me think of Leo.
I liked how she talked about listening for stories. When I'm traveling I'm LOOKING for stories. Just another great reminder of the importance of carrying a journal to record experiences as they happen. About two-thirds into the book, I ordered a book of her short stories. I'm looking forward to reading more!
My favorite quote came from page 57: "Emotions do not grow old." I read this book while my husband and I were on a visit to Oregon to visit his father. He has a terminal illness and we both knew this very likely could be the last time we'd see him. This quote made me think of Leo and how, though his body is dying, his love for his family is very much alive. I hope I always remember the proud look he had and the shine in his eyes as he introduced my husband to his nurses, "Yes, this is my son." He was so excited and surprised to see my husband show up in the hospital---he didn't know we were coming. There was laughter, tears, frustrations, joys, and more the few days we spent with him---all very real emotions from a family who very much loves and respects their father. I love this quote. It will always make me think of Leo.
Opened this lovely book Christmas morning, and did, indeed, read it in a day.
I have heard it described in glowing terms as a resource for writers, and was a little baffled by this description for the first two thirds of the book. It was charming, but centered on the author's childhood and any writerly ruminations did not seem to reach very far beyond Eudora Welty's specific experience. Don't get me wrong! I really enjoyed the first two sections and her meditations upon her parents, childhood, and Jackson, MS in the 1920s.
But part three is where the magic really happens. I'm not even sure how to describe the change from .... Memoir to meditation?
Confluence, maybe that is really the sum. ;)
And also, props for a really vivid description of what it's like to travel in a sleeper car on a train.
I have heard it described in glowing terms as a resource for writers, and was a little baffled by this description for the first two thirds of the book. It was charming, but centered on the author's childhood and any writerly ruminations did not seem to reach very far beyond Eudora Welty's specific experience. Don't get me wrong! I really enjoyed the first two sections and her meditations upon her parents, childhood, and Jackson, MS in the 1920s.
But part three is where the magic really happens. I'm not even sure how to describe the change from .... Memoir to meditation?
Confluence, maybe that is really the sum. ;)
And also, props for a really vivid description of what it's like to travel in a sleeper car on a train.
Love love love Eudora and all her wisdom. Her autobiography is really wonderful in describing how she learned to love words and what they can mean through her life-- a sheltered life. She shows that you do not need to lead a broken or hurt life to write, just a daring one in which you appreciate and understand your craft. LOVE HER.
This book is the most wonderfully written autobiography of Eudora Welty's childhood in Jackson Mississippi. It is filled with the scent of grace and grit. Full of rhythm and texture as only Welty can spool out, it sings with affection for her family and their homes. Love without sentimentality runs into her roots and into the soil.
Her sense of connection to her parents and to her parents parents and to the soil of Mississippi, Ohio, and West Virginia shaped her life as a writer. She draws on the storehouse of these, and other, long relationships to lay bare the treasures of the human soul. Her family was not exceptional, in fact, the ordinariness of her ancestors gave her a clear view into regular folks. Her self understanding as belonging to a family and to a wider place give her a sense of common ownership of humanity. All people are her people because her family is like people everywhere and her place is like places everywhere. She builds from the particular — her family, her place — to the universal, making her human insights palpable.
Although her father stood out to her as an abnormally reasonable and her mother as unusually open to new ideas, she undoubtedly felt sheltered and safe in her unassuming family. Sheltered but not protected from new ideas. Safe but not afraid to explore unknown territory.
Her sense of place and her attachment to ancestral roots resonate. She accepts as her own of the mountain of West Virginia, the town center of Jackson, and the plains of Ohio. Perhaps my own longing for connection to family roots and a desire for a place creates a dry well that her prose floods.
Playing the amateur psychologist for a minute: her idyllic and pure childhood created a sense of security that could never be recaptured in marriage, which she never undertook. That childlike innocence weighed on her writing. It is not blind innocence, ignorance, or naïveté, but the uncomplicated wisdom and openness of a kind aunt who never speaks ill and sees but one humanity. She accepts everyone as a child does and understands everyone as an elder does.
Eudora Welty's writing tastes sweet, like the smoothest carmel candy in the mouth of a hungry child. Reading her elegant, unpretentious prose is childish delight. This book is no different. I want to hold the book near my nostrils, hoping to capture some of the beautiful scent of her word pictures. Wood floors creaks and give off the dry odor of aged oak in her words. Phantom smells fill the air. Distant sounds call out.
If this is the first Welty you read, you will read more. If you have read other Welty, this will pull up the curtain of her stories. Here exist the real people she used as raw material to understand life, love, and longings.
Her sense of connection to her parents and to her parents parents and to the soil of Mississippi, Ohio, and West Virginia shaped her life as a writer. She draws on the storehouse of these, and other, long relationships to lay bare the treasures of the human soul. Her family was not exceptional, in fact, the ordinariness of her ancestors gave her a clear view into regular folks. Her self understanding as belonging to a family and to a wider place give her a sense of common ownership of humanity. All people are her people because her family is like people everywhere and her place is like places everywhere. She builds from the particular — her family, her place — to the universal, making her human insights palpable.
Although her father stood out to her as an abnormally reasonable and her mother as unusually open to new ideas, she undoubtedly felt sheltered and safe in her unassuming family. Sheltered but not protected from new ideas. Safe but not afraid to explore unknown territory.
Her sense of place and her attachment to ancestral roots resonate. She accepts as her own of the mountain of West Virginia, the town center of Jackson, and the plains of Ohio. Perhaps my own longing for connection to family roots and a desire for a place creates a dry well that her prose floods.
Playing the amateur psychologist for a minute: her idyllic and pure childhood created a sense of security that could never be recaptured in marriage, which she never undertook. That childlike innocence weighed on her writing. It is not blind innocence, ignorance, or naïveté, but the uncomplicated wisdom and openness of a kind aunt who never speaks ill and sees but one humanity. She accepts everyone as a child does and understands everyone as an elder does.
Eudora Welty's writing tastes sweet, like the smoothest carmel candy in the mouth of a hungry child. Reading her elegant, unpretentious prose is childish delight. This book is no different. I want to hold the book near my nostrils, hoping to capture some of the beautiful scent of her word pictures. Wood floors creaks and give off the dry odor of aged oak in her words. Phantom smells fill the air. Distant sounds call out.
If this is the first Welty you read, you will read more. If you have read other Welty, this will pull up the curtain of her stories. Here exist the real people she used as raw material to understand life, love, and longings.
funny
informative
inspiring
lighthearted
reflective
medium-paced