SewaneeLetters.com

Jimmy’s legacy: The SoL 4th of July Parade Float. You can email him for details, or leave a comment here.

The Fourth of July in Sewanee is practically unrivaled, as many of you veterans can attest. The day starts early with an old-school flag-raising and town breakfast, hits its stride mid-day with pet contests and a parade through town, and culminates with a fireworks celebration after sunset.

Last year, a gaggle of SOL students organized an ad hoc entry in the parade (anyone with a smile can participate), and we had a blast decorating a couple trucks, and tossing candy and necklaces to the kids
lining the street.

THIS year, I’d like to do more planning on the front end to make our “float” even better, and that’s where your help is appreciated. First, if any of you (I’m looking specifically at our New Orleans native Brendan Minihan) have bags of trinkets, like, say, Mardi Gras beads, PLEASE consider bringing them for us to throw. Same goes for any candy (un-meltable preferred!) you have lying around. Secondly, please toss out some creative theme/decoration ideas, both for a float and ourselves. I plan to procure a large trailer from a buddy in Chattanooga for the day, so we’ll have plenty of room. Finally, please consider budgeting a $5-$10 donation for us to afford all the necessary accoutrements.

photo by Dean Wilson

Our man in Chattanooga, Jimmy Swansbrough, attended the recent Conference on Southern Literature and sent me this report:

I attended nearly the whole day on Saturday and had a great time. You know you’re pretty nerdy when you’re the minority age group at an event by a good twenty years. I was mostly surrounded by two types:
1) elderly professorial gentlemen trying not to nod off (especially humorous during a monotone reading by Richard Bausch–this could have been a Lunesta commercial)
2) mid- to latter-aged biddies with their knitting/crochet work splayed across their laps, nodding their heads at whatever they deemed accurate or acceptable from the panelists

The first panel I attended was entitled, “History is the big myth we live,” a line taken from a Robert Penn Warren poem. The three panelists (Wendell Berry, Bobbie Ann Mason and Allen Wier) were informally expected to speak about the role (burden?) that history plays on literature, both for fiction and non-fiction. All three panelists offered excellent commentary, then fielded an assortment of questions from the mildly-annoying audience. My favorite improvised response came from Wendell Berry. In response to a question about the freedom that historical fiction can take with the history it follows, he said, “Look, I don’t believe in a willing suspension of disbelief. I don’t care about that. I want my disbelief COMPELLED into suspension.” I was impressed at nearly every sage word that Berry spoke. The audience was in awe of him too; I half expected the ladies to toss some crocheted panties on the stage.

Jill McCorkle’s address centered on the role that free speech plays in literature, and she took the stance that censorship of any form tantalizes those who are censored into rebellion (e.g cursing, abstinence, alcohol, etc.). Her anecdotal humor gave levity to her serious topic and wooed the old conservatives in the audience into letting her drop f-bombs without complaint. She was like an oratorical snake-charmer! I now want to read her work…any recommendations?

The final discussion of the conference was facilitated by renowned editor Shannon Ravenel and paneled by Dorothy Allison, Roy Blount, Jr., Clyde Edgerton and Sam Pickering. The topic was “After the Writing’s Done: Publishing, Promoting, and Avoiding the Critic’s Arrow,” and it was hilarious from beginning to end. It was great to see published authors who didn’t take themselves too seriously and still gave helpful comments to their audience. The four panelists kidded each other and told self-deprecating anecdotes about failed promotional tours. Dorothy Allison laughingly confessed that she intimidated the New York editors into publishing her by storming into their offices with a “vengeful lesbian feminist” agenda. Sam Pickering claimed no one in his family has ever read anything he’s written–even his mama dismissed his writing as “more of that bullshit,” he claimed. I almost pitied Shannon Ravenel, because her task as facilitator seemed comparable to herding cats. In fact, she kind of reminded me of our own Meg Binnicker, whose boundless patience and organization has kept the SOL afloat for the last four years.

All in all, it was a great conference organized by UT-Chattanooga’s Arts & Education Council. Rumor has it they’re hosting another conference next spring called the Festival of Writers (these two programs are hosted biennially in alternating years).

ps. I spoke to Dorothy Allison and asked if she’d ever read/lecture at Sewanee, and the opportunity sounded appealing to her. I told her I knew people and would pull some strings, so maybe Dr. Grammer will read your blog post and get the ball rollin?

Nick and Ashley hosted an informal fiction workshop at the family lake house last weekend. I didn’t get many photos of the serious critique that took place, just the dockside shenanigans afterwards. (Like how I worked in that Sewanee reference?) Here’s Jason, Megan, Jimmy, Mr. and Mrs. Nichols and their entertaining lab, Tucker.

It was good to see some Sewanee faces beyond “the Domain,” and Jimmy, at least, got a decent workshopping. The next writer’s group is loosely planned for December 6th, in Atlanta. Where there is no magical lake and splendid fall foliage to distract us from our task.