Quotation Of The Day: Literature Set In Rural America Edition

From this Craig Fehrman article:

There’s a long tradition of shotguns and spare-prose fiction depicting America’s working class, and right now the Midwest is having a literary moment. Dennis Lehane, who anchors his crime novels in Boston, once told an interviewer that “in Greek tragedy they fall from great heights. In noir they fall from the curb.” In books by a small but growing number of authors—besides Bill, Donald Ray Pollock (Ohio), Bonnie Jo Campbell (Michigan), Alan Heathcock (Illinois)—there are no curbs. The roads are gravel and dirt, but the people still find a way to fall.

This makes for more than just good noir. Sometimes the rural Midwest, and rural America more generally, can seem to drown in don’t-bother-locking-the-doors nostalgia. The frustrations of groups like the Tea Party suggest that, in many ways, this near mythology remains as powerful inside the region as out. Against this ideal, consider Bill’s new novel, Donnybrook, whose title refers to a three-day bare-knuckle fighting tournament held every August on former farmland. Fans come to watch, gamble, inhale, imbibe—“like a Dead concert with fists,” a mostly toothless meth head calls it. It’s not so easy to be nostalgic about that.

A Minor Musing: Small Town Roots Edition

I've put off reading Rod Dreher's biography of his late sister, The Little Way of Ruthie Lemming for two reasons. First, I have a low threshold for sentimentality, and I find it difficult to believe that a book about a woman who taken by cancer can avoid being overly sentimental. Second, it's about Dreher's return to the South. Something bothers me that nearly every cultural treatment of small towns seems to involve the South. When's the last time a film, TV series, or country song was set in rural Montana?

Still his discussion how smaller communities can provide roots applies to most rural communities. His admissions about the need to be rooted in community and his difficulty setting down roots resonate.

And because I can, let's add some John Mellancamp to get the morning started.

Dreher video via Andrew Sullivan

A Minor Musing About Community, Politics, Literature, And Darn Near Everything

Politics, literature, and small town life sometimes intersect

Writing a book review of the life and death of a small town cancer victim, Yuval Levin channels Thornton Wilder

. . . beyond our petty vanities and momentary worries, beyond arguments and ambitions, beyond even principles and ideals, there is a kind of gentle, caring warmth that is really what makes life worth living. It is expressed through the words and acts of people who rise above themselves, but it seems to come from somewhere deeper. Maybe it’s divine, maybe it isn’t, but it’s real, and it effortlessly makes a mockery of a lot of what goes by the name of moral and political philosophy, and especially of the radical individualism that is so much a part of both the right and the left today. And it’s responsible for almost everything that is very good in our very good world. If I had to define what conservatism ultimately means for me, it would be the preservation and reinforcement of the preconditions for the emergence of that goodness in a society of highly imperfect human beings. But politics is of course only one very crude way to strengthen and protect those preconditions

Wilder, author of the play Our Town, one of the great depictions of simple life in a small town, has the Stage Manager say,

We all know that something is eternal. And it ain’t houses and it ain’t names, and it ain’t earth, and it ain’t even the stars . . . everybody knows in their bones that something is eternal, and that something has to do with human beings. All the greatest people ever lived have been telling us that for five thousand years and yet you’d be surprised how people are always losing hold of it. There’s something way down deep that’s eternal about every human being.

Reviewing the same book as Levin, Nebraska native Josh Green admits to a bit of cognitive dissonance that many probably share

I don't like my hometown. But I do love it, because it - in its own infuriating way - taught me the most important lesson in life: you haven't grown up until you care about someone else more than yourself.

Heidi Marttila-Losure's seems to have undertaken the same sort introspection; she shares her desire to enjoy simple pleasures:

I absolutely chose to live here. Why? Because I appreciate the beauty here, the amazing "sky theater." And because of the sense of community and belonging I feel here. Part of that is nostalgia--I love the stories about the festivals, dances and common work that happened here years ago. But I also feel a calling to do as much as I can to shore up that community spirit and pride of place.

None of the above writers, however, successfully get to the crux of the matter: how can the crude instrument of politics best be used to keep young people make a living in the small towns so that they will be able to preserve the "goodness," love," "caring," and "festivals, dances and common work"?

Quotation Of The Day: Small Towns, Stories, Brain Drain, Leavers, And Stickers Edition

From this Jake Meador review of Rod Dreher's The Little Way of Ruthie Lemming:

Contemporary American storytelling has a funny relationship to small-town America. On the one hand, we can tell stories that show a great love and deep understanding for it, as in NBC's marvelous Friday Night Lights. And yet in my own state of Nebraska, it's become something of a rite of passage for students at our flagship university in Lincoln to bemoan small-town life and vow to flee the state as soon as possible upon graduation. They'll settle in a big coastal city where they'll achieve all sorts of success. They'll finalize their divorce from their small-town roots—and in most cases they'll do so rather happily, as they find opportunities to mock and belittle "flyover country."

The same kind of brain drain is happening in Iowa, Kansas, South Dakota, and North Dakota, and it is wreaking havoc on our region. Worst of all, because the majority of people talking about small-town life are the "leavers" now working in New York, Chicago, D.C., and San Francisco, the image that often emerges is unflattering at best. In contrast, we seldom hear the stories of the "stickers," . . . .

Quotation Of The Day:Andrew Bacevich May Turn Me Into A Conservative Edition

From this post at The American Conservative:

Well, I’ll admit to prejudices, so let me lay them out.

(Fans of Ayn Rand or Milton Friedman will want to stop reading here and flip to the next article. If Ronald Reagan’s your hero, sorry—you won’t like what’s coming. Ditto regarding Ron Paul. And if in search of wisdom you rely on anyone whose byline appears regularly in any publication owned by Rupert Murdoch, well, you’ve picked up the wrong magazine.)

The conservative tradition I have in mind may not satisfy purists. It doesn’t rise to the level of qualifying as anything so grandiose as a coherent philosophy. It’s more of a stew produced by combining sundry ingredients. The result, to use a word that ought warm the cockles of any conservative’s heart, is a sort of an intellectual slumgullion.

Here’s the basic recipe. As that stew’s principal ingredients, start with generous portions of John Quincy Adams and his grandson Henry. Fold in ample amounts of Randolph Bourne, Reinhold Niebuhr, and Christopher Lasch. For seasoning, throw in some Flannery O’Connor and Wendell Berry—don’t skimp. If you’re in a daring mood, add a dash of William Appleman Williams. To finish, sprinkle with Frank Capra—use a light hand: too sweet and the concoction’s ruined. Cook slowly. (Microwave not allowed.) What you get is a dish that is as nutritious as it is tasty

Niebuhr and Lasch challenge and are as relevant today as ever. A student gave me a single volume collection of Henry Adams works. His life in politics was, to put it mildly, fascinating. I admit that I don't recall reading anything by Williams or Bourne. Further, Capra is cloying, but every thinking person should read O'Connor's short stories annually.

Plains Pops:Totally Random Updates Edition

Romney has released his education plan.  At first blush, it's indistinguishable from Obama's and Bush's. In related news,  Hollywood is apparently ready to give Rocky treatment to charter schools.

Jeff Barth reacts to comments about his video: “I don't care if you don't like [the video]. I don't care if you don't like me. I think it's kind of fun.”  The Dakota War College praises Barth's sincerity.  I still doubt that ironic hipster deconstructionists (IHDs) constitute a major South Dakota voting block.  Heck, I'm unconvinced there's enough of them to fill all of the tables at a Starbucks.


As further proof that Hell is experiencing a cold front, the aforementioned Dakota War College expresses unease at Governor Eddie Haskell's Dennis Daugaard's endorsements in South Dakota's Republican primaries. More importantly, the Madville Times points to Republican legislative candidates running against Daugaard's destructive education measure, HB 1234.

Finally, here's another reading trifecta.  Reporter and blogger Bob Mercer recommends Watergate: A Novel. NPR Books points to 15 summer reads recommended by Indie booksellers, and IO9 takes science fiction fans back to the  1960s.

Plains Pops: Reading Trifecta Edition

First, from my blog reading, three interesting posts from Rod Dreher:

1. A conservative teacher discusses how poverty effects student.
2. A post based on a comment about the poverty article.
3. The humanities as a way of knowing.

Second, the first three books pulled from my to be read pile:

1. Hell is Empty (Finished)
2. Hedy's Folly: The Life and Breakthrough Inventions of Hedy Lamarr, the Most Beautiful Woman in the World
3. Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking will be my first Nook book.  I started but stuff got in the way, so I'm going to restart.

Thrid, a bleg for books to add to the list:

1. An overlooked classic
2. A coach's book
3. A young adult novel that's not The Hunger Games, gotta keep up with the young'uns

United We Stand?

William Saletan reviews Jonathan Haidt's The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided by Politics and Religion.

Saletan summarizes Haidt's recommendations:

Our task, then, is to organize society so that reason and intuition interact in healthy ways. Haidt’s research suggests several broad guidelines. First, we need to help citizens develop sympathetic relationships so that they seek to understand one another instead of using reason to parry opposing views. Second, we need to create time for contemplation. Research shows that two minutes of reflection on a good argument can change a person’s mind. Third, we need to break up our ideological segregation. From 1976 to 2008, the proportion of Americans living in highly partisan counties increased from 27 percent to 48 percent. The Internet exacerbates this problem by helping each user find evidence that supports his views.

In short, people have to talk to people they don't like, live next door to people who frequently disagree with them, and listen before they speak.  How will the Internet survive?
Snark aside, Haidt's observations require serious consideration.  

I briefly discuss a Haidt New York Times briefly here.  Dr. Blanchard analyzes a Reason article here.