Books
The Southern Woman: New
and Selected Fiction
by Elizabeth Spencer
Modern Library. $23.95
If you want to know about
southern society-the South of the white upper middle class, the South
that became the stage for the civil rights movement and upon which the
New South was superimposed, read Elizabeth Spencer. If you are thinking
about relocating to the South and want someone to decode its mysteries,
read Elizabeth Spencer. If you believe there is nothing more you can
learn about yourself, read Elizabeth Spencer. Arguably among the very
finest American writers, she has been lately overlooked, and that is
a great mistake, for her stories are as fine as Faulkner's and more
interesting than Welty's.
The Southern Woman is a retrospective
bundle of 27 stories, written over a period of more than 50 years. Many
were originally published in The New Yorker or Atlantic or other magazines
noted for excellence in fiction. A few of the stories take place in
Italy where Spencer lived for several years, but most are set in the
author's native Mississippi. However, hers is not the deranged South
of Flannery O'Connor, nor the trailer-park world of Bobbie Ann Mason.
Rather, it is a place like Dalton, Mississippi, a small city where everyone
has lived for generations.
Reading Spencer's stories
is like having the ultimate insider, living in a big old house on a
quiet shady street, reveal to you precisely what makes the place tick.
In A Christian Education, a little girl finds out that she doesn't
have to go to Sunday School. She has been left in the care of her grandfather
while her parents attend a funeral out of town. Within her family, it
was "an absolute that the whole world was meant to be part of the church."
Her parents always take her to Sunday School. They look askance on anybody
who goes to the drugstore or even reads for amusement on Sunday.
But her grandfather has never
been a churchgoer. So, she reaches up for his hand and they go out for
an unaccustomed and wonderful walk downtown ("it occurred to me that
we were terribly excited, that the familiar way looked new and different,
as though a haze which had hung over everything had been whipped away
all at once, like a scarf"). They stop at the barbershop where she has
her hair brushed, then go on to the drugstore. She learns that the proprietors
of each are friends of her grandfather's. Grandfather buys her a strawberry
ice-cream cone, "and the world of which it was the center expanded …"
When her parents return,
however, she becomes full of foreboding, sure that some awful punishment
will result from her daring transgression. Her parents "believed that
awful punishments were meted out to those who did not remember the Sabbath
was holy. They believed about a million other things." But when her
grandfather calmly acknowledges his taking her to town for ice cream,
her mother just turns away. "A certain immunity of spirit my grandfather
possessed was passed on to me…After this, though all went on as before,
there was nothing much my parents could finally do about the church
and me.
First Dark is a love
story, in which lovers are drawn together by their common experience
of a local ghost at twilight. Tom Beavers is an attractive young businessman
who returns to his hometown every weekend, apparently "looking for something."
As a boy he was poor, outside polite society, and eventually viewed
as "smart." The author explains: "By 'smart,' Southerners mean intellectual,
and they say it is an almost condescending way, smart being what you
are when you can't be anything else." Frances Harvey is a shy girl,
"sometimes" a beauty, who lives in "a family home laden with history,"
dominated by her widowed mother. When Tom was a boy, Frances' mother
had even shooed him out off their lawn. Mrs Harvey is a "witty tyrant
with the infallible memory for the right detail…though almost all her
other faculties were seriously impaired, in ear and tongue [she] was
as sound as a young beagle." Tom emancipates Frances from her constricted
life, the way unexpectedly paved by a dramatic gesture of her mother's.
In Sharon, a young
girl learns the reason why her mother doesn't want her to visit her
Uncle Herman's farm without an invitation. As usual, Elizabeth Spencer
seems to have the details about a place exactly right. At the farm,
"the dogs that were sprawled around dozing under the trees would look
up and grin at me, giving a thump or two with their tails in the dust,
too lazy to get up and speak." Her uncle's office in his house had a
desk by the window: "The Negroes had worn a path to the window, coming
there to ask him things."
Often the houses themselves
seem alive. About Uncle Herman's farmhouse called Sharon, built before
the Civil War: "This was a house that expected behavior." After Tom
and Frances (First Dark) have left town, the Harvey house, "all
unconscious of its rejection by so mere a person as Tom Beavers…seemed,
instead, to have got rid of what did not suit it, to be free, at last,
to enter with abandon the land of mourning and shadows and memory."
If our own homes could speak, what would they say about us? How would
they describe themselves?
In The Master at Shongalo
a bright teenager invites her English teacher to spend the weekend at
Shongalo, her opulent home. It has enough acreage to encompass sunken
gardens and a herd of cattle kept sufficiently far away from the house
that not "so much as a moo" was ever heard. The teacher has the chance
to observe this family up close: the father, "whose regard was for his
property," and the mother with her "inward air…content in her place
as Robert Stratton's wife at Shongalo, not needing to seek anything
to fill her time." The parents are superficially cordial. "Among the
rooms at Shongalo trivial conversations could spin on forever." Ultimately,
however, the teacher recognizes that, for the parents, "I'm nobody really.
A teacher from the town," someone to serve a purpose as their daughter's
chaperone and then dismissed.
The heroine in The Light
in the Piazza is from Winston-Salem, North Carolina, the town where
I live. Wife of a cigarette-industry executive, she has taken her beautiful
but brain-damaged daughter on an extended trip to Italy. When her child-like
daughter and a young Italian fall in love, she sees clearly that their
marriage is exactly what her daughter needs to remain happy and secure.
She manages to conceal from groom's family, in part via the distraction
of a healthy dowry, that her daughter is anything but perfect.
Normally I find short stories
not very satisfying. But I found the stories in The Southern Woman impossible
to put down. Each of these stories felt so real that I temporarily inhabited
their world. I frequently was tempted to slow down just to savor the
justice of Spencer's observations. Now I'm going to try to track down
one of her novels...
1
| 2
Daughter of an army surgeon,
Eileen Frost grew up in libraries on military bases from coast to coast
and beyond. A Senate staff member for five years after college, she
spent many rewarding hours in the Library of Congress. She then spent
a year in Europe, and after an interlude enjoying her small children,
Eileen ran a catering business, became a librarian, and has worked at
an independent school in North Carolina since 1984. Ms. Frost has two
daughters, both avid readers. For questions, comments and suggestions,
email Eileen Frost.