day 185 – the life you save may be your own, flannery o’connor
the life you save may be your own, flannery o’connor pp12
complete stories
london: faber and faber 1990
‘The old woman didn’t change her position until he was almost into her yard, then she rose with one hand fisted on her hip.’
What can I say about this, about Flannery O’ Connor. Stunning. Incredible. I could pull sentence after brilliant sentence from this story all night long, but that would never do it justice.
Read her, read this. Marvel at the originality of the portrayal of character descriptions. Take in the complete realisation of people, place and time through direct speech alone.
‘His face descended in forehead for more than half of its length and ended suddenly with his features just balanced over a jutting steel-trap jaw.’
‘She was about the size of a cedar fence post’
‘ “Nothing is like it used to be, lady,” he said.
Done got me thinking why it darn folk talking stuff like that as if it’s a good for nothing. Is them folk really meaning stuff were better way back when? Guess that’d depend on what stuff folk be thinking on, ain’t it?
‘He held his hand out, palm up, as if it were slightly weighted with the human heart,’
‘The old woman watched from a distance, secretly pleased. She was a ravenous for a son-in-law.’
‘In the darkness, Mr’Shiftlet’s smile stretched like a weary snake waking up by a fire.’
‘ “What do you know about my blood?” ‘
‘ “If they was to take my heart and cut it out,” he said, “they wouldn’t know a thing about me.” ‘
Let the unflinching vivisection of humanity and all its bloody ugliness wash over you, and tell me that the putrid stench coming off a modern electrified fence around some hogpen don’t smell like truth, rotten to the bone.
I guess, like an eclipse of the southern sun, brilliance can be as painful as it is rare and exciting.
‘He raised his arm and let it fall again to his breast. ” Oh Lord!” he prayed. “Break forth and wash the slime from this earth.” ‘
threesixfivestory 