R. I. P. ELLEN DOUGLAS (JOSEPHINE HAXTON) 1921--2012
A formidable group of writers have chronicled the South’s days and years, and a lot of stories still need telling. There’s Miss Ellen’s clear, heart-felt prose of progress and change and the lingering need for both, Miss Eudora's quiet, precise voice; Faulkner’s characters strutting and fretting their hours upon the stage, and still other writers who trumpet our idiosyncrasies and ills and sins like a gaudy rack of supermarket rags in a check-out line.
Fiction fashion changes, fads grow and wane, and the true voices are the ones which endure. And we the people---we sleeve the sweat off lip and brow, turn a page, see our lives in the printed lines.
The South’s HOT. It’s full of mosquitoes and snakes and gators and other hostile life; it’s growing by bounds, and it’s melting into the ground in places. But it’s FERTILE, pretty near more fertile than any same-sized plot of ground on this Earth, and the fertile imaginations are the most impressive crop.