Mound City Musings

I have to admit that I'm currently experiencing a great deal of schadenfreude at this news--the St. Louis Blues may be leaving the area. If you know me at all, you certainly know of my strong dislike of the sport of hockey, and, particularly, my even stronger dislike of its local fans.

(Of course, I can't generalize that ALL hockey fans in the St. Louis area are hoosiers...but you've gotta admit...)

Read the article about the Blues going up for sale here.

I had heard about this a week or two ago and almost spit my coffee out onto the table. Apparently, Oprah (of all people) has chosen three of Mr. Faulkner's novels for her summer book club. Although I'm happy that more folks will read Faulkner's novels--and these are three of his best--I'll also find the reaction of the Oprah crowd to the content and worldview of the novels particularly interesting.

David Skinner agrees that this is an odd yet fascinating choice of Oprah's. One can read his article regarding this matter here.

Last night, St. Louis Cardinals pitcher Chris Carpenter threw a one-hitter against the Toronto Blue Jays; the Redbirds won by a score of 7-0. I had a chance to watch pieces of the rebroadcast of this game today during lunch. Feel free to read more about this sweet feat here.

Matt Labash of the Weekly Standard has a fantastic article on one of the Democrat's leading strategists for their effort to regain the Southern white male vote in upcoming elections. Written in Labash's witty style, his adventure with a political strategist from Roanoke, VA entertains and informs. As a Republican who has been somewhat troubled by the NASCARization of the GOP, I'm waiting with bated breath to see a party that chooses candidates with a lack of appeal to any constituency outside of the relatively far left wing of the party attempt to play themselves off as in touch with good ol' boys.

Read the article here.

I haven't listened to the interview yet, but I heard that Mr. Hornby, the author of the hipster favorite High Fidelity would be on Terry Gross's Fresh Air today. If you're interested in hearing about his new novel, A Long Way Down, you can listen to the whole interview here.

Here's a comical and somewhat disturbing article found on MSNBC. The location byline wasn't too surprising:

AMHERST, Mass. - Two eighth-graders who spent months working on a science
project to prove how dangerous BB guns can be were disqualified from the state
middle school science fair. The reason for the dismissal: BB guns are too
dangerous...

The rest of the article is here.

Although I'm certainly glad this whole Jacko mess is over (for now, at least), I've been known to argue that I don't think that MJ was guilty of child molestation. Granted, the guy creeps me out and he's undoubtedly a weird fellow; however, the last time I checked, being a creep doesn't call for incarceration.

Andrew McCarthy has an interesting take on the Jacko case at NRO; one can read that story here.

I'm back on campus for my first evening of summer classes; tonight's Freelance Writing and tomorrow evening is "Nutrition" (science class for humanities majors).

Every building on this Gothic campus looks like something from an Edgar Allan Poe story due to the rapid approach of a wicked Missouri squall line. Ah. Summer in St. Louis!

FJMG

Recently, Missouri Governor Matt Blunt decided to allow the Confederate Battle flag--we all know what it looks like--over a Confederate cemetary in Higginsville. As one can imagine, this has been artificially inflated on both sides of the issue (although, somewhat surprisingly, the Sons of Confederate Veterans organization has been remarkably quiet).

Personally, I'm no booster of the Confederate battle flag; I realize that it means something entirely different to the black community than it does to a white man from Missouri with ancestors who were, at the very least, Southern sympathizers in this state (myself included). Several less offensive flags exist--The Bonnie Blue, the First National/Stars and Bars--if one really wants to assert their love of Dixie, and I'd have to say that I'd favor the use of those over the battle flag.

However, I must agree that it's appropriate for the battle flag to fly over a Confederate cemetary. Regardless of what one thinks of the South's legacy, it is rather disrespectful to lord victory haughtily over the dead, especially since most of the soldiers did not own slaves.

The St. Louis Post-Dispatch did a typically biased and shoddy job of covering this story; indeed, why did this story warrant so much coverage? I doubt most of the writers of the Post have ever visited Higginsville or Lexington. That said, let's take a look at some of the response from the Post and its readers on this issue:

So glad to see our young governor's display of tolerance for slavery, as he permitted display of the Confederate flag. Can we look forward to, given the right holiday, flying the flag of the Third Reich or his participation in a friendly Ku Klux Klan rally?

Dave Olander

University City

Aside from the typical cheap shot at Mr. Blunt's age, I fail to see a connection with Hitler's genocide and flying a Confederate flag over a Confederate cemetary.

I am always astounded when a person or group of people try to justify their display of the Confederate flag by an appeal to "southern heritage." That heritage is filled with human rights violations, racism and rebellion. The Confederate flag is a symbol of traitors. If I had an ancestor that had died trying to overthrow the legitimate government of the United States, I would not be proud. I would be ashamed.

Shane Northrop

St. Peters

That's a fine sentiment, Mr. Northrup, if you'd realize that there was an entirely different understanding of the power of the federal government in that time. Apparently, Southerners shouldn't have any pride in their heritage; indeed, perhaps the country would be better off without these descendents of traitors.

The characterization of the Confederate flag is unjustified. Missouri was a border state. Missouri was one of four states that gave their sons to battle not for the support of slavery, but for states' rights. The Post-Dispatch's parochial position chastising the Blunt administration for taking the proper position in honoring the Confederate dead ("No innocent symbol," June 7) is just as absurd as former U. S. Rep. Richard D. "Dick" Gephardt stating several years ago that the Confederate flag should not be flown on any occasion. Historically, Missourians have every right to see the Confederate flag flown in cemetaries and on special days to honor those who served and died for a cause in which they believed. Most of Missouri was with the South in the Civil War. If the logic of the Post-Dispatch prevailed, we would never fly the British Union Jack or the French flag for special events in the United States.

Charles E. Welsh

Kirkwood

Ahh. Although Mr. Welsh seems to be a bit too keen on the states' rights argument, he has written a reasoned letter that is criticial of the Post and the politicians who use this as a polarizing issue.

After all of this, however, the Post published a surprisingly balanced article. Read that article here.

After some rather vocal prompting from numerous people, most obviously from Mark McKnight, I've decided to revive Mound City Musings.

-FJMG

In William Faulkner’s novel Absalom, Absalom!, Quentin Compson recalls the line of questioning he receives from many of his Harvard classmates: “Tell about the South. What’s it like there. What do they do there. Why do they live there. Why do they live at all” (AA 142). This fascination of outsiders with the region known as the American South appears to be constant; in particular, there is a fascination with the apparent duality of the South. How can a sophisticated, progressive metropolis such as Atlanta exist alongside tiny backwoods towns elsewhere in Georgia? How can an aristocratic family from Virginia with genealogical links to one or more of the Founding Fathers consider themselves heirs to the same heritage and history of a family living in the depths of poverty in rural Mississippi? These questions, like the questions Quentin hears repeatedly in Cambridge, seek to explain the nature of this enigmatic group of states. Northerners are not alone in their questions about the nature of the South; indeed, Southerners themselves are often consumed with a burning passion to find what exactly makes their home so markedly different from the rest of the United States. In his novels, William Faulkner works through these questions in his own search for the nature of the Southerner and, more importantly, the history and heritage which makes the Southerner a distinctive variety of human being. What, then, does the legacy of the South mean for the Southerner? Does it impede the progress of the Southern social order or does it provide a rich collective heritage that is missing from other parts of the country? I posit that Faulkner’s novels present a paradox regarding the effects of the South’s unique legacy on its society. Although there are several large stains on the fabric of the South’s heritage, there are also positive points in the historical record as well; indeed, in order to understand the paradox that shapes the South, one must realize that the key to understanding the South’s legacy lies within its apparent contradictions.

At first glance, it seems that each and every aspect of the South is complicated. In fact, a difficulty arises in attempting to even geographically identify the region; for example, some historians classify Missouri and Maryland as Southern states, and others reject those classifications. Faulkner is not concerned, however, with the location of the physical boundaries of the South; his interests lie in the search for meaning and identity within the historical record of the region. As Gavin Stevens poignantly states in Requiem for a Nun, “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” Faulkner’s deep interest–an interest bordering on obsession–with the Civil War and its effects provides a starting point for a discussion of Southern history. The collective experience of war and occupation are central to the collective psyche of the South during Faulkner’s lifetime; however, Faulkner lives during the birth of the New South and its accompanying paradigm shift. Regardless of the paradigm shift, Faulkner is a member of a generation of white Southern males who still experience the psychological and sociological effects of the Reconstruction; the effects of defeat and occupation–which no other region of the United States has experienced–cannot be overstated.

Faulkner’s native state of Mississippi remains an oddity even among its compatriots in the former Confederacy. It is important to read Faulkner’s writing with this in mind; he is not only exploring and explaining the idiosyncrasies of the South but also the identity and history of a unique place and society within the region itself. In 1965, near the height of racial tension in Mississippi, Walker Percy wonders why the “common words of the language no longer carry the same meanings” for Mississippians that the words do for other Southerners (44). Percy offers a possible explanation for the rift between Mississippi and the rest of the South, stating that

The answer is far from clear, but several reasons suggest themselves...Unlike
the [Southern] seaboard states, it missed the eighteenth century
altogether. Its tradition is closer to Dodge City than to
Williamsburg. For another, the populism of the eastern South never
amounted to much here; it was corrupted from the beginning by...demagogic
racism...Nor did Mississippi have its big city, which might have shared, for
good and ill, in the currents of American urban life. (44)

Regardless of its eccentricity within the South, Mississippi provides a fertile ground for Faulkner’s examination of the issues extending from the Southern legacy; in fact, the magnification of pan-Southern issues in Mississippi enables Faulkner to more effectively interact with these issues in his novels.

This skill as a keen interpreter of history has not gone unnoticed throughout academia. In his essay “William Faulkner as History Teacher,” C. Ben Wright states that he has “found nothing more useful for this purpose [engaging students with history] than William Faulkner’s novel Absalom, Absalom!” (568). Wright’s glowing recommendation of Faulkner’s works as a pedagogical tool to engage students in the study of history confirms the notion that Faulkner skillfully interacts with the history of the South in his prose. Indeed, Absalom, Absalom! is, at its core, a novel in which Faulkner encourages the reader to engage in a dialogue with the various accounts of the legacy of Thomas Sutpen; inasmuch as Faulkner interacts with the legacy of the South in the novel, he effectively enjoins the reader in doing the same. For example, in his role as a narrator, Quentin Compson demonstrates Faulkner’s own interaction with history: “By reconstructing the history of Thomas Sutpen, Quentin may hope to discover his own relationship to the ‘New South’ of 1909-1910 and, thus, who he is” (Wright 572).

Therefore, one can establish the importance of Faulkner’s interaction with history with regards not only to his effectiveness as an interpreter and author but also to one’s own experience of understanding the novel. Faulkner’s dialogue with the Southern legacy appears in a more obvious manner in Intruder in the Dust. Through the character of Gavin Stevens, the reader gains perspective on race relations in the light of the Southern legacy. Interestingly, Stevens’ soliloquies on this subject “echo so startlingly Faulkner’s own public statements on race” (Dussere 50). Regardless of whether Stevens’ musings indicate Faulkner’s personal opinions on the subject of race, Erik Dussere converses with the legacy of Southern race relations through engaging the text; once again, Faulkner succeeds in drawing the reader in to his own dialogue with history. Through this dialogue, the reader can begin to examine the spaces between the lines of the contradictions which are at the heart of Southern history.

Gavin Stevens represents one such contradiction as the classic white Southern moderate. Percy refers to him as “the old-style good man, the humanist from Harvard and Heidelberg” (41). However, as mentioned before, no concept in the South is easily or succinctly defined. Stevens’ words and actions sometimes betray the notion that he embraces either moderate or progressive views; for example, when the innocent black man Lucas Beauchamp entreats Stevens to defend him against the charges of murder, Stevens replies: “I dont defend murderers who shoot people in the back” (ID 58). After learning of Lucas’ innocence, the reader listens to a compassionate Stevens explaining the rationale for his abrupt change of heart: “It took an old woman and two children for that, for me to believe truth for no other reason than that it was truth, told by an old man in a fix deserving pity and belief, to someone capable of the pity even when none of them really believed him” (ID 124). Apparently, Stevens feels remorse at his inability to believe Lucas’ innocence. However, the contradictions continue, particularly when he speechifies to his nephew Chick Mallison. In regard to federal intervention in the desegregation process, Stevens posits “that the injustice is ours, the South’s. We must expatiate and abolish it ourselves, alone and without help nor even (with thanks) advice” (ID 199).

Gavin Stevens, therefore, embodies part of the Southern paradox: he desires a form of justice for the black community while maintaining that the South must fix its own racial problems. According to Dussere, Stevens is at heart a conservative who, “in order to avoid conflict between North and South, black and white...recommends the continuation of Jim Crow and the other humiliations of second-class citizenship until...white Southerners are able to achieve equality between the races in an organic, agrarian South” (50). In addition, he states that this requires a “return to a mythical vision of the South” (50). Indeed, an elaborate myth of the Old South exists; however, Faulkner debunks this myth on a repeated basis, and leaves the reader questioning whether the idealized Old South, populated with gracious gentlemen and beautiful belles, ever existed. Take, for example, the character of Gail Hightower in Light in August. Hightower relives the death of his Confederate soldier grandfather repeatedly; he rambles incessantly during his sermons about this death, which is one of the reasons he is forced out of his pulpit. He believes his “only salvation is to return to the place to die where my life had already ceased before it began” (LIA 478). The myth of the gallant soldier shatters into pieces with the revelation that Hightower’s grandfather was actually shot by a woman while “stealing chickens” (LIA 485).

Misery loves company, and Faulkner provides another example of a character possessed by the contradictory myth of the Old South in Quentin Compson. In Absalom, Absalom!, the story of Thomas Sutpen possesses him as he attempts to piece together the history of Sutpen’s rise and fall. Sutpen himself contradicts the myth of the Old South: here is a outsider who comes to Yoknapatawpha and ruthlessly builds a dynasty; here is a man who essentially creates an identity as the Southern Gentleman of the myth. The story of this man’s construction of the mythic persona ex nihilo and his subsequent obliteration shakes Quentin to the very core of his being; in short, the Southern Gentleman does not actually exist. The most visible sign of Quentin’s dismay is his response to his roommate Shreve McCannon’s question at the end of the novel, “‘Now I just want you to tell me one thing more. Why do you hate the South;’” Quentin replies, “‘I dont hate it,’ [he] said, quickly, at once, immediately; ‘I dont hate it,’ he said. I dont hate it he thought, panting in the cold iron New England dark: I dont. I dont! I dont hate it! I dont hate it!” (AA 303).

In addition to the destruction of the Southern Gentleman myth, Faulkner adds another myth to shatter through Quentin: the myth of the Southern Belle. In The Sound and the Fury, Faulkner uses Caddy Compson, Quentin’s sister, as the device to destroy the aforementioned myth and by extension bring about the literal destruction of Quentin. Instead of being the chaste and pure belle of Quentin’s imagination, Caddy turns out as a young woman with rather lax moral standards. The discovery that Caddy has lost her virginity destroys his worship of her virginity; in fact, it creates within Quentin the overwhelming desire to commit incest and receive God’s condemnation in order for he and Caddy to be eternally joined together in Hell: “Only you and me then amid the pointing and the horror walled by the clean flame” (SF 74). Quentin proceeds to fling himself from a bridge into the Charles River. In addition to Quentin’s and Caddy’s respective falls from grace, Faulkner destroys the myth of the Old South’s aristocracy through the eventual decline of the Compsons and their ilk. Percy claims that such a decline indeed occurs in the actual chronology of the South; he writes that “the Snopeses have won...not even Faulkner foresaw the ironic denouement of the tragedy: that the Compsons and Sartorises not only should be defeated by the Snopeses but in the end should join them” (41).

If the South of William Faulkner contains nothing more than broken families, shattered myths, and self-contradicting speechifiers, can any constructive and valuable historical exegesis occur? Does any progress take place? Percy’s statement regarding the victory of people like Flem Snopes is true; however, unscrupulous characters have always existed in the South. Technically, that is progress; but, what, if any, positive progress occurs in Faulkner’s South? Michael Millgate describes Faulkner’s view of history as

...not a developmental view–Faulkner does not see man as moving towards any
far-off divine event, nor does he entertain illusions of human
perfectibility...but neither is it a pessimistic view, in that it is essentially
cyclical: mankind is seen as perpetually adjusting itself to the needs of its
particular moment and consistently displaying those basic capacities for
survival–strength and rapacity and cunning as well as love and compassion and
sacrifice–on which Faulkner bases his belief that man will not only survive but
prevail. (33)

It would seem, then, that there is an apparent contradiction in Faulkner’s view of human progress and human nature; however, as stated earlier, one must read between the lines of any apparent contradiction in order to understand the mind of the South. It is true that most of Faulkner’s characters are tragic or deeply flawed; however, according to the appendix to The Sound and the Fury, Dilsey and her family “endured” (SF 215). Why do Dilsey and her people prevail? They prevail because they embody the qualities set forth in the above statement.

Percy writes that “the South, with all the monstrous mythologizing of its virtues, nevertheless has these virtues–a manner and a grace and a gift for human intercourse” (51). This succinct statement provides an explanation of the paradox that is the legacy of the American South. In order to make sense of Faulkner’s South, and by extension the actual South, one must examine both sides of the proverbial coin. The legacy of slavery and systematic racial discrimination is indeed shameful; however, the South has overcome the wounds caused by these terrible institutions in a remarkably resilient fashion. Even though the myth of the Old South is just that–a myth–Percy is correct in noting the almost instinctual hospitality and abundant grace that bless a plurality of the South’s population. The South continually rises from its old ashes of defeat and shame, and this endurance comes from the energy created by the paradox of its legacy: in order to make sense of the South’s past, present, and future, one must never separate the seemingly contradictory and conflicting aspects of its singular heritage.

-F. Joseph M. Goldkamp

As I stated briefly in my first post, I am a connoisseur of music (read: music nerd). Therefore, for your edification (and my silly enjoyment), I will periodically post some thoughts on some of my favourite albums/songs/artists.





Roxy Music
Avalon
Release: 1982

Avalon is an early 1980s masterpiece that sounds like a product of its time yet remains utterly timeless. This essentially flawless collection of compositions written and performed by Bryan "Mr Suave" Ferry and company gels together from start to finish to create the perfect album for intimate occasions under a haze of pink and green neon light...not that I would know.

The first track, "More Than This," is probably the most well-known track on the album. It's been featured in video games and in the fine Sofia Coppola film Lost In Translation.

The title track is a real treat. Ferry's vibrato-laden croon coupled with the sparse and airy arrangement of the musical accompaniment incites involuntary head-swaying on the part of the listener. The track features female vocal accompaniment as well; listen to the end of the track for the full effect. You'll know what I mean when you hear it.

The pinnacle of this album is the successive trio of "Take a Chance With Me," "To Turn You On," and "True To Life." The first song in this terrific trifecta begins with a wonderfully booming ambient oboe/bass/drum piece. After one of the most sublime segues in all of 80s music, the listener is transported into Ferry's statement that all the world must learn to love the way he does.

"To Turn You On" brilliantly and seductively states what Ferry would do to arouse the amorous desires of a woman and assures the listener that "when things go wrong, [he'd] anything to turn you on." One can't help but believe him with his painted picture of Manhattan in the rain and the lights on Broadway after dark.

"True To Life" speaks in a more ambient fashion, creating a mood with the tones instead of words. Ferry's voice vibrates while the synthesizer resonates on and on into beautiful oblivion. This segues into the final track, "Tara," which is an instrumental piece consisting of gentle saxophone and the sound of waves, gently washing the listener out to sea.

Rob Sheffield, an editor at Rolling Stone, expounds beautifully on this album in his article on Roxy Music in the SPIN Guide to Alternative Music:

"Roxy Music's 1982 release Avalon remains one of the all-time great make-out infernos, a synthesized version of Al Green's Call Me, Van Morrison's Moondance, and Joao Gilberto's Amoroso. Bryan Ferry spends the album storming mountains, swimming oceans, delivering soliloquies under balconies, walking down Broadway after dark--anything, anything, to turn you on."

This album is mood music at its finest: the artists create wonderful ambiance by performing superbly composed songs which stand well apart from the album itself.

For what it's worth, on my scale of 1 to 10, Avalon deserves and receives a perfect 10.