Please allow me to veer away from my most recent thread to acknowledge the passing of Reynolds Price this week. He died in Durham, North Carolina, survived by his brother. He was 77.
Reynolds Price is one of the most significant writers in modern Southern fiction. His obituary in The New York Times this week celebrated his unique Southern voice–his ability to convey the strength and poignant courage of “ordinary people in rural North Carolina struggling to find their place in the world.” He was a gifted storyteller, a legacy from cousins, aunts and uncles who provided a circle of love and entertainment in his poor but relatively stable upbringing. Other than the brief time he studied as a scholar at Oxford in England, he spent his entire life in North Carolina, and he inspired many writers, as Eudora Welty and others had inspired him, to explore and revere their Southernness and their native sensibility to conjure up the best expression of themselves and the region that made them.
Once when he was asked to reflect on his connection to the South and its resonance in his writing, he said: “I’m the world’s authority on this place. It’s the place about which I have perfect pitch.”
Mr. Price corrected people when they spoke to him about William Faulkner and their perception of Faulkner’s influence on his work, and he named Eudora Welty as his true artistic mentor. Still, his physical and spiritual connection to the Deep South reminds me of a story that I learned in graduate school about Faulkner and another great 20th-century writer, Nathaniel West.
Faulkner found himself uninspired, bereft and homesick in Hollywood during a time when he, West and others were pursuing steady screenwriting jobs that provided a living wage. Faulkner felt he had lost his soul in the pursuit of a reliable income, and he asked West, “What should I do? I can’t stay here and work for The Movies,” and West replied, “Go home and write from your own back yard.” Luckily for Faulkner and literature, he took West’s compelling advice.
Reynolds Price lived this great advice instinctively. His work reflects the essence of that thoughtful direction. He told amazing stories about the people of his region and their surroundings and culture with depth and sensitivity and, well, genius.
Let me personally recommend both Kate Vaiden and Roxanna Slade to you if you’ve never read Reynolds Price. These two works are not necessarily his most famous pieces, but I remain awe-struck by his ability to capture the voice, heart and soul of a woman as a male writer. What a tremendous gift.
Rest in Peace, Reynolds Price. You were a true, noble and deeply gifted Son of the South.
Doctor Mell
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/21/books/21price.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=reynolds%20price%20obit&st=cse
