Whenever I feel a little too upbeat, maybe a little too sane or satisfied, and even though I know better, I can rely on a few select Southern writers to remind me of the realm of refractive gloom and gothic moodiness that I probably deserve. I¹m talking about writers like Carson McCullers, William Faulkner, Flannery O¹Connor, fun folks, who, if there was opportunity to accompany them in an elevator during a potential power outage, might make one consider the stairs. Excellent writers, tough topics: alcoholism, humiliation, misery, the nature of evil, humanity and the gods we invent.
Our next reader is Southern, a scribe with an unflinching knack for slicing into the big questions of existence, the recipient of several awards and the author of four volumes of poetry including Spirituals, The Creation, Summer Mystagogia and most recently, Signs and Abominations.
Please welcome Bruce Beasley.