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residency readings, part II

Note: I’m out of pocket during my residency period at school. I love your comments! But it may take me several days or a week or more to respond. (As this post was written pre-residency, I’m using a future tense for seminars that have by now taken place.)


Continuing Wednesday‘s post…

I already reviewed Eric Waggoner’s assigned book, Line by Line. In a word, I didn’t find it a very interesting cover-to-cover read! More of a reference book.

Jeremy Jones‘s packet was, I felt, an ideal example of pre-residency reading. For one thing, I appreciate that it was brief! (I was asked to read some 400+ pages for this residency, including my peers’ work that required in-depth response, and watch three movies and view additional material online.) But also, I felt that the selection of works he assigned were an excellent overview to his topic, and read like an introduction to his seminar. This packet, for a seminar on “writing about other people,” includes essays on the topic from a more academic, instructive point of view as well as personal reports by writers with experience writing about close friends and family, and the fallout. The final piece is Jeremy’s own, and I am looking forward to his promise to “talk through changes [he] made and reactions the ‘subject’ had about drafts and the final product.”

I enjoyed that Richard Schmitt’s package was much like him: pithy and to the point. He assigned three enjoyable short stories by Alice Munro, Flannery O’Connor, and Ernest Hemingway, respectively. Richard’s seminar is about “the art of leverage,” or power shifts in narrative, and these three stories look like great examples of that. I can’t wait. Also, I love anyone who requires me to reread Hemingway.

Rebecca Gayle Howell is teaching a seminar on “the documentary imaginary,” and I have no idea at time of writing what that means. She assigned three movies, three websites, and several readings. (You’ve already seen the movies reviewed here.) As I moved from Deliverance to The True Meaning of Pictures, I noted my clear preference (not for the first time) for literal and explicated narratives. I’m thinking about the discomfort that poetry brings me, because I can’t understand exactly what the poet meant at all times; where I love a memoir or an essay in which the narrative voice tells me precisely what she’s up to. In the same way, I guess Deliverance as an assigned viewing offered lots of possibilities for what we’d be discussing in class. But The True Meaning said what it was about. It discussed what it wanted to discuss, right there on the page, if you will. I felt much more comfortable with that content. Sherman’s March was a different experience, as I’ve already said.

The readings that Howell assigned were intriguing. Let me repeat, at the time of writing these lines, I remain confused about the topic of her seminar. Some of this confusion has got to come from the fact that I am in the minority in this program (whose tagline is “write in the heart of Appalachia”) as an outsider to the Appalachian region. I read the first three chapters of a novel called Mothering on Perilous (what a title!!), and I enjoyed them enough to wish I had time to read the rest, although I knew no more than when I’d started about Howell’s seminar. And then I read an essay called “McElwee’s Confessions,” which I commented on briefly in the comments section of my review of Sherman’s March. This essay is an appreciation of McElwee’s work, and while it did not convince me, it does help me to acknowledge–somewhat grudgingly–that there is more to it than I found in the one film. The essay’s author is familiar with the whole body of McElwee’s work, which I’m sure helps. And not everything is for everybody.

Finally, Howell assigned three websites for viewing: an audio interview with James Dickey (poet and author of Deliverance the novel); a gallery of Doris Ulmann’s photography; and the project “Looking at Appalachia.” That last captivated me. I highly recommend taking a good chunk of time to look through these photographs. The concept is dear to my heart, something like what I was up to at Defining Place, which has gone dormant. “Looking at Appalachia” is my new favorite thing.

Finally, Vicki Phillips’ assignment of Jane McCafferty’s brief “Thank You for the Music” was a touching read. I’m still trying to decide which of the graduate seminars to attend in that final slot, and this lovely little story made it that much harder.


Obviously it was a full and enriching experience just preparing for all these classes. And nothing here reflects the fact that I also spent time preparing for workshop: I read about 20 pages each of four of my peers’ work, and submitted about 20 pages of my own, and during residency we’ll be doing in-depth small-group discussion of those pieces (and exchanging written responses and marginalia). It is an intense time, in every sense. Thank you for being patient with me. As of now, I’m back home and readjusting to home and work life, getting to know my little dogs again and doing laundry–and, of course, getting to work on assignments for the semester. I look forward to hearing from you and reengaging. Life is ever a whirlwind. Again, thanks for your patience.

movie: The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia (2009)

Note: I’m out of pocket during my residency period, beginning today with travel. I love your comments! But it may take me several days or a week or more to respond.


Sorry to follow last week’s negative review with another.

I’ve heard about The Wild and Wonderful Whites for years now, and I know a lot of people who appreciate it. When I started school in West Virginia, folks from other places mention this movie as a way to know the place. As I was watching all those other Appalachia/Southern movies for school, a friend borrowed it for me, as an optional add-on to my education, I guess.

I think it’s a shame that this movie represents the state. This documentary of the apparently legendary White family records their lifestyle: petty crime and violence, drug and alcohol abuse, no great contribution to society–excepting of course the cultural value of the tap dancing. I don’t know. The film itself presents (we assume) reality, with little or no editorializing. But the response to the film feels to me like glorifying or celebrating a lifestyle that includes a certain amount of tragedy. I’m not a prude; I appreciate partying, and I don’t judge making babies out of wedlock, or anything like that. But the matriarch crying at the drug use at her birthday party, and the pillhead whose baby is taken from her in the maternity ward, are sad stories. Why are we laughing and joking about this? Also, West Virginia doesn’t deserve this as its theme song.


Rating: 4 Xan-bars for filmography, I guess.

movie: Sherman’s March (1986)

Sherman’s March is the third movie assigned for that one seminar (see also The True Meaning of Pictures and Deliverance).

I don’t know. Perhaps it will be illuminated for me in seminar; but this movie didn’t hold much value for me. Ross gets a grant to make a documentary about the lasting impact of General Sherman’s march across the South during the Civil War. He sets out with camera in hand to visit his family and meet women, traveling the Carolinas and Georgia. His love life is suffering, and everyone he meets is either a potential partner or a matchmaker. He lolls about, bemoaning his single fate and feeling sorry for himself. He occasionally opines about General Sherman or visits a monument. Look for lines like, “Why aren’t you in love with me?” and “It doesn’t matter if you don’t know her, Ross.” (Two and a half hours of this.)

Woe is Ross. The end.


Rating: 3 hours of my day lost.

movie: The True Meaning of Pictures: Shelby Lee Adams’ Appalachia (2002)

This movie was assigned viewing for school, for the same seminar on “the documentary imaginary” that assigned Deliverance. It won’t surprise you to know then that I was comparing them as I watched this one.

The True Meaning of Pictures is a documentary, examining the work of photographer Shelby Lee Adams, and examining his portrayal of his home region of Appalachia. In a major departure from Deliverance, then, this movie explicitly questions how Appalachia is seen and viewed artistically, and asks if its portrayal is fair, or stereotypical, or exploitative. This is a nice answer to that other movie, and I’m so glad I watched them in this order.

Shelby Lee Adams is from Appalachia, so he “owns” it, it is his place. But the argument goes that he has chosen to photograph the stereotyped version of that place, a place he’s mostly left behind in his own day-to-day; and he has to some extent staged those images. Can you exploit the place you’re from? Or is what you see what you picture, and that’s that? The people whose lives he photographs (many of whom are close friends, who he stays with and visits for extended periods) generally appear (at least in this film) unbothered by the pictures he makes. The one woman interviewed here who was really offended by his work was the relative of one of his subjects. She had left her roots behind and didn’t like how he’d portrayed then. It makes an interesting juxtaposition, for me.

I enjoyed this documentary. I found it thoughtful, and informative. It offered me a view into a handful of people I found interesting to meet. I’m a little reluctant to make conclusions as to my own opinions about Appalachia and its portrayal; I’m an outsider to that region, which is an intriguing position to be in just now, studying it with a student body (and instructors) who are mostly insiders. I thought this movie was pretty fair in its examinations. But I’ll be interested to hear what my classmates think.

Next up is Sherman’s March, a 1986 documentary offering “A Meditation on the Possibility of Romantic Love In the South During an Era of Nuclear Weapons Proliferation.” So that sounds… interesting.


Rating: 8 holes in the screen door.

movie: Deliverance (1972)

Content warning: rape. Not discussed here in detail, but rather more graphic in the movie.


Assigned for Rebecca Gayle Howell’s seminar on “The Documentary Imaginary: One Way It Means To Be an Appalachian Writer,” and I have never seen this iconic movie before, so bring it on.

I am reminded of Urban Cowboy, how I recognized the moment in time, the cultural marker the movie made, felt nostalgic for some of its imagery, felt drawn to its presumptions, at the same time that I bridled against its crimes: stereotypes, misogyny, a casual good humor towards domestic violence. I gave it some slack for its datedness and enjoyed it some but still gave it 5 rides. And in many of the same ways, I meet Deliverance.

Four city boys take a weekend canoe trip down a backwoods Georgia river about to be dammed, which in the words of one of them, will “rape this whole goddamned landscape.” They take a decidedly nasty attitude towards the local hillbillies, who are short on teeth and don’t talk like the city boys–although it’s interesting to note that from my perspective the city boys sound pretty country, too. They have some small-scale internal conflict among them, but it’s mostly an idyllic float down the fictional Cahulawassee River. Until it isn’t.

I find myself unhappy writing about what follows, and geez, this is an awfully well-known movie. If you don’t know the plot, a simple web-search will fix you right up.

The cultural markers Deliverance has left behind are the dueling banjos, and the rape scene. The movie, it’s true, is so about more than that; but I found the rape scene quite disturbing, and didn’t realize how much so til I started trying to write about it. These are interesting observations that I imagine will be relevant to the discussion we’ll have in class, of “the documentary imaginary.”

Further, I imagine that we’ll be talking about the stereotyping of the Appalachian “mountain man” hillbilly. It’s quite ugly. Also ugly is the city boys’ attitude towards the locals when they arrive on the scene; really, they weren’t setting themselves up for any kind of good relations. A good movie in many ways; iconic, yes; musically interesting. But hard to watch, and ugly, despite the beautiful scenery. I did not find it redeemed by its profundity or higher themes or teaching value in the way that perhaps Boys Don’t Cry was. Maybe it’s just the datedness again. But I struggled; and ultimately, this movie gets the same rating as Urban Cowboy, and for similar reasons.

I look forward to being educated.


Rating: 5 missing teeth.

movie: Twelfth Night (1996)

Last week I reviewed the play. But wait, there’s more! My required reading for residency also included a viewing of the movie, from 1996, directed by Trevor Nunn and starring such names at Helena Bonham-Carter, Richard E. Grant, and Ben Kingsley.

For me, this film contributed to the play as printed on paper in its music, its scenery (shot in Cornwall) and, as always with Shakespearean productions, the lively acting. As much as I love the written word, Shakespeare’s comedy always benefits for me from performance–maybe this is definitive of theatre. Of course as well the lack of stage direction leaves the filling out of the drama to the producers (actors etc.). And Twelfth Night is somewhat special in including lyrics, which only improve when set to music. Imogen Stubbs and Steven Mackintosh as the twins, Viola/Cesario and Sebastian, make a perfect pair: I’m impressed at the likeness, and wonder if every production gets so lucky. (I so wish I could go to Houston for the Festival!)

While Shakespeare never feels particularly dated to me–I would not be the first to call him timeless–this movie somewhere feels more placed in time, despite being set in a different time than when it was filmed. Perhaps the pacing felt a little slow? I’ll always recommend seeing this stuff performed, though.


Rating: 7 scenes in a barn.

movie: Be Here to Love Me (2004)

Husband and I finally got around to this documentary about the life and music of Townes Van Zandt, and it was totally worth it.

be-here-to-love-meTownes and my mother share a hometown in Fort Worth, Texas, and although he lived in Montana, Colorado, Tennessee and elsewhere in bits and chunks, Texas certainly has a claim on him. Austin was at least a seasonal home in the 70’s and early 80’s, during which time my aunt & uncle lived in the same part of town there. My parents remember him as part of the Houston music scene. These are some of the reasons that his story feels close to me.

You can do your own search if you’re unfamiliar, but – Townes was born in 1944 into a family with money; had issues with drugs and alcohol, was institutionalized and given insulin shock therapy, and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder; had three marriages and three children; and died at age 52 of complications of his lifestyle, to put it simply. He was a country/folk singer/songwriter with limited commercial success or coverage in his lifetime. He was not unknown but neither was he a sensation on the charts. His peers regarded him very highly, though, as we see in this film in interviews with Guy Clark, Kris Kristofferson, Willie Nelson, Joe Ely, and others.

This documentary reminded me some of Montage of Heck, last year’s documentary about Kurt Cobain, for its focus on the heartbreaking genius, illness and ill luck of a musical hero. It more than reminded me of Heartworn Highways, the 1976 documentary about outlaw country, as the two movies share several minutes of footage. Like those, this one is an edited bunch of home videos, television clips, and interviews with people who knew Townes. I found it hard to watch for its poignancy: I have long observed some sort of connection between genius and madness, or illness, or struggle, and Townes is another good example of that tradition (see also Hemingway, Abbey, Cobain, pick your hero). An older Townes speaks slowly and in fits and starts, seeming to forget what he’s talking about mid-sentence. It’s hard to watch a gifted and singular mind fried that way.

But it’s also amazing to get to see this special man & musician in video clips that show him laughing, chatting, performing, musing, and just being with his family. That’s a rare chance, and for that opportunity, this film is worth tracking down. Also Townes’s music: check it out. For a start, you can hear a song here that featured on my definingplace page. That’s synchronicity for you.


Rating: 8 lost pages.
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