776624 Father dies after surgery.

The much younger second wife throws a scene.

The daughter of the first wife mourns...while perhaps resenting the younger step-mother?

It took me a significant portion of the story to become engaged. One night, I simply didn't want to read it as it seemed so dull. The protagonist appeared flat and emotionless for an extended period, leading me to question if there was any real conflict. Finally, the character begins to express some emotion, shows some feeling, and suddenly snaps. However, it took an inordinate amount of time to reach this point, even for a short and concise book like this one.

Despite all of this, there are perhaps redeeming qualities in this short novel. Welty explores the diverse experiences and qualities that different individuals bring to a relationship and a marriage, and the impact that those qualities and experiences have on their children.

To be honest, though, this is probably not the kind of book I prefer. There is too much melancholy, dying, and nostalgia, and all that mournful looking back is rather tiresome for me. Additionally, similar to McCormac, although perhaps not to the same extent, Welty's language is almost painfully spare, describing just enough to advance the story.

Should you read it? Maybe. If you are a fan of Welty.

Though this isn't historical fiction, The Optimist's Daughter has the remarkable ability to transport the reader back to a Mississippi town in the mid-twentieth century.

In this town, social class stratifies the society and dictates behavior. Laurel, the daughter of a small town judge, has journeyed back from Chicago to her family home as her father requires surgery for his eyes. The situation is far from simple. Similar surgery had previously led to the loss of her mother's vision, initiating a long decline that ended with her death a few years prior.

Her father has since remarried, and his new young and callous wife, Fay, is a constant affront to Laurel. Despite being well brought up, Laurel endeavors to make the best of the situation. However, Fay is consistently hostile and dismissive.

In the hospital, Laurel's father appears to lose the will to live. When his angry wife attempts to make him get up, he collapses and dies. At the wake and funeral, the two women engage in a struggle to control both the situation and themselves. When Fay leaves with her ragtag family for a few days, Laurel is left alone to grapple with her true identity and make peace with herself.

Welty is truly a master at creating a world where the smallest of actions can reveal the true nature of her characters. She敏锐地 recognizes all of the nuances of personality that come into play when the characters must confront their deepest fears.

At the end of the story, after a bitter confrontation with Fay, Laurel finally realizes that she doesn't need to hold on to the past to find happiness. She drives off with her friends to the train station for her return to Chicago, while Fay is left alone, with only an empty house to offer her any semblance of comfort.

First half of this was rather enjoyable. The 71-year-old respected retired Judge's 42-year-old daughter Laurel and his around-42-year-old new wife Fay were building up to a huge and intense fight as they took care of the old man who had been hospitalized with a torn retina. After the operation, the doctor said the Judge had to lie still on his back for about six weeks, and he was the most obedient patient. This eventually got on Fay's nerves to the extent that she freaked out and tried to drag him out of bed. All of this was entertaining, and I was looking forward to what happened after the funeral. However, after a few tantrums and low-class insults being sprayed around like insecticide, Fay left for many pages, and the reader was plunged into the maudlin, grief-stricken memories and psychological self-torment of daughter Laurel. It must be admitted that these extremely long indirect interior monologues are really dull, and the brief and venomous reappearance of Fay is far too little and far too late.

A very uncomfortable and inescapable theme throughout this novel is class. Laurel is all refinement, gracious manners, and devoted filial love (along with being a stoical young widow and a painter). Fay, on the other hand, is an uneducated, grasping, vulgar gold-digger with no heart. She bitterly resents having to spend time with her immobile husband in the hospital and later realizes that the only use she has for his funeral is that it provides the perfect opportunity for her to do some over-the-top operatic weeping and wailing over the open coffin, which is witnessed by all, thus fulfilling all her duties to her late husband before taking over his mansion. Plus, her family is brought in for the funeral, and they turn out to be practically hillbillies and are subtly or not-so-subtly mocked at every turn.

In the tiresome last third, Laurel has all the fine, authentic, and deep feelings that it seems we are being led to admire, and Fay is brought back to show how appallingly nasty and grasping she is and how noble Laurel is. It's hard to believe that a Pulitzer prizewinner would be as crudely snobbish and cheaply insulting as I'm depicting here, but I couldn't view Fay's character in any other way - she has absolutely no redeeming qualities.

Eudora Welty does have a fine way with words, it is true, and here is my favorite sentence in the book:
As they proceeded there, black wings thudded in sudden unison, and a flock of birds flew up as they might from a ploughed field, still shaped like it, like an old map that still served new territory, and wrinkled away in the air.

Okay -- so maybe it is the current state of my brain - a bit exhausted and unfocused - but, man! I did not like this story much at all.

I found it awkward and clunky in terms of the style and flow of reading. It seemed as if the words were not flowing smoothly, making it a bit of a struggle to get through.

I feel I understand what Welty was attempting to do here, which was to show us this slice of life. However, for me, it just wasn't successful.

I really had to force myself to read the whole thing, which is kind of sad considering the book is a Pulitzer winner and is so short. But there you go. It just didn't click with me. Blech.

Perhaps if I were in a different mental state, I might have been able to appreciate it more. But as it stands, I have to say that this story was not to my liking.

I'm sure there are many people who love Welty's work and find her writing to be beautiful and engaging. But for me, this particular story missed the mark.

Oh well, you can't win them all. Maybe I'll give another of her works a try at some point and see if my opinion changes.

This piece of writing is truly very beautifully composed. It is short, yet it has a meditative quality that draws the reader in. It serves as an excellent stylistic continuation of "Death Comes for the Archbishop".

However, I did encounter some difficulties with a significant number of the sentence structures. They were rather complex and convoluted, which made it a challenge for me to read and fully comprehend.

I had to spend a considerable amount of time dissecting each sentence, trying to untangle the various elements and understand the intended meaning.

Despite these challenges, I still found the piece to be engaging and thought-provoking. It made me reflect on different aspects of the story and the themes it presented.

Overall, while the complex sentence structures added to the beauty and depth of the writing, they also made it a more demanding read. But it was well worth the effort in the end.

In my memory, I read this novella not too long ago. In reality, it was likely almost twenty-five years ago.

I remember loving the ending, but I didn’t remember much else about the book. My memory was way off about the particulars of the ending, but not about the feeling I had over it. I experienced the same feeling of quiet satisfaction this time.

4.5

I always knew I wanted to reread this book, knowing it deserved that. And because of its being the One Book One Festival choice this past Saturday for the Louisiana Book Fest, I seized the opportunity. I’ve attended these discussions at past fests and it’s not the case that everyone attending has read the book; this time everyone had and it was a great discussion, all thanks to the moderator Professor Gary Richards. Thanks also goes to the soon-to-be-retired festival director Jim Davis for suggesting the book.

I’m not always drawn into pages of dialogue, which occur in one or two sections, but this is Welty, so of course they’re perfect. She knows her people. Because it’s Welty, the dialogue is true, so a lot of the times it’s funny as well. And because it’s Welty, she treats all her characters with grace, even the ones that would drive you crazy in real life.

I was struck by how passive the close third-person narration is, but I was also struck by how masterful the technique is, and that’s due to Welty’s deft sleight-of-hand, especially as the work builds to its final page. The themes are dealt with delicately, never bluntly, and upon reflection a quiet work transforms into a powerful one. It's truly a remarkable piece of literature that continues to resonate with readers even after all these years.

**The Optimist's Daughter: Eudora Welty's Celebration of Life and Memory**

The Optimist's Daughter is a literary work that delves deep into the themes of life and memory. It is a bittersweet exploration that comes without the usual frills or literary allusions. My mother gave me this book for Christmas in 1973 when I was just twenty-one. At that time, I had never experienced the loss of a loved one or even a close friend. The future stretched out before me, and memory was mainly reserved for college examinations, of which I had a very good one.

However, as time passes, our perspective on memory changes. There are fewer plates on the dinner table, fewer birthdays to celebrate, and fewer packages to wrap at Christmas. I now find myself attending more funerals. Welty beautifully portrays the classic Southern funeral, with all its details - the exaggerated voices chatting nervously about the deceased's good qualities, the tables laden with food, the odor of flowers, and the subsequent emptiness and loneliness.

I feel a connection to Laurel, the protagonist. We could walk hand in hand and talk for hours about love and loss. Some may think she is too prim and reserved, but perhaps tears are better shed in private. Welty constructs the story layer by layer, carefully revealing Laurel's past. We learn that she is a war widow, her husband having died in the Pacific. She still dreams of him and has chosen to remain a widow. Now, she has suffered loss for the third time with the deaths of her mother, husband, and father. But she was the optimist's daughter.

Her father, Judge McKelva, had endured the loss of Becky, Laurel's mother. In his seventies, he married Fay, who was younger than his daughter. Although Fay lacked the intelligence and social standing of his wife and daughter, he protected her. Perhaps he did not see her flaws. Laurel, on the other hand, had a harder time moving forward.

I can no longer find the Christmas gift from so many years ago. It is packed away among countless books and photograph albums. But I will find it. Each day I look at those boxes and say, "No, not today." But I know I will find it, and when I do, I will read that precious gift from a Christmas long ago. As Miss Welty said, memory is a powerful thing that can hurt but also offer mercy. It lives for us as long as we are able to give it its due.

For my Mother, Ann Sullivan, August 27, 1935 - February 1, 2012

“The memory did not live in the initial possession but in the free hands, absolved and free, and in the heart capable of emptying and refilling, in the fantasies returned by dreams.”

The optimist in the title is Judge Clinton McKelva who dies after an operation due to unspecified complications. His daughter is Laurel, who returns home to take care of him. Then there is Fay, the immature second wife, the antagonist, never integrated into the community of the small town in the southern province of the United States where the story is set.

Eudora Welty, in just over 170 pages, alternating fast and lively tones with more lyrical ones, on the one hand paints the portrait of a man through the voices of the chorus of fellow citizens who have known him, witnesses of a past that they want to preserve and protect from the invasion of the “foreigner”; on the other hand, that of a daughter who must come to terms with the shortcomings, the griefs and the choices of her father.

It is a great read, awarded the Pulitzer Prize in 1973. This book offers a profound exploration of human relationships, memories, and the complex emotions that come with family and community. Welty's writing style is engaging and vivid, making it easy for readers to immerse themselves in the story and understand the characters' experiences and feelings. The themes of the book are universal and relevant, making it a timeless classic that will continue to be enjoyed by readers for years to come.

Laurel, a young widow, makes the decision to return to the South to be by the side of her dying father.

After his passing, she and her rather snotty young stepmother journey back to her family house in Mississippi. This work won the Pulitzer Prize, yet I had my reservations about it.

Firstly, I have always found the proud and clingy nature of the Southern patriot to be not only boring but also rather arrogant. However, mainly, I perceived this as a rather straightforward tale with a simple moral, presented in a simplistic manner.

For instance, a small bird in her house completely terrifies Laurel. Doubtless, it symbolizes her fear or helplessness in the face of loss. But to me, it seemed trite. The stepmother is portrayed as a one-dimensional and unconvincing character, embodying pure selfishness and distrust.

The book's concluding scene does have more cohesiveness. Laurel comes to the realization that the past is inviolable, but memory should serve the living rather than haunt them. As I mentioned earlier, these are simple lessons.

Overall, while the story may have its merits, it failed to truly engage me on a deeper level.

As they say around here, I also started the book with very high expectations. Perhaps it was because of this that I expected more. This doesn't mean that the book isn't precious, which it is.

So what was lacking for me? The presentation of some characters. I haven't seen them sufficiently developed, in terms of emotions and such. I suppose Eudora's style is like this, a narration without tonalities, without dramas, without turmoil, with some drops of black humor between its lines. But for me, the story could have had more emotions added. It's true that it gets to the point and doesn't get tangled up in superficial descriptions, but I missed explanations about the characters and the situations.

Otherwise, I liked the story from the very first pages. The characters are so typical of the time and place.

That judge whom some people want to remember in one way while the daughter remembers in a very different way. And it's that memories are never a reflection of realities, they're not absolute truths, but they're also not lies. They're just our interpretations of the facts or what we want to remember about the people we love. And that's exactly what the characters in this story do with the memories of the judge. A woman and a daughter of a deceased man who are not mother and daughter, with their ages reversed, and who are forced to share a situation in which both must occupy a main place in the life of that judge who will never return. That wordless struggle for that situation, the neighboring positions to promote that peace that is clearly tense. That very lively family that Fay renounced a few days before gives that touch of vulgarity that never ceases to amaze Laurel and the other neighbors.

Wow,

what a treat it is! This is truly a fabulous audiobook that was read by the author himself. I'm not entirely sure why this book isn't rated higher by readers. However, I really enjoyed this one a great deal. It stands out in that it is more character driven than plot driven. The characters are so vividly brought to life, and their emotions and personalities shine through. It makes for a truly engaging listening experience. You can really get to know the characters on a deeper level and become invested in their stories. Even without a complex and fast-paced plot, the book manages to hold your attention from start to finish. I would highly recommend this audiobook to anyone who enjoys character-driven stories and wants to experience a unique and enjoyable listening adventure.

Laurel rushes to be with her father, Judge McKelva, when he calls. He is worried about his health as something is wrong with one of his eyes. It has been a long time since she last saw her father, specifically since his marriage to Fay, her stepmother, a younger woman who is proud and unbearable. The events unfold rapidly and Laurel will be forced to return to her hometown of Mount Salus, Mississippi, not only physically but also with her memories. Laurel has to face the ghosts of her past, the relationship of her parents, her marriage... And this is what I liked most about the book, her journey through the house and the memories:

"When Laurel was a child, in that same room and in that same bed where she was lying at that moment, she would close her eyes, just like now, and two beloved nocturnal and rhythmic voices reading would ascend the stairs, taking turns, until they reached her bed. Barely noticing that sleep was overcoming her, she would startle and try to stay awake, just to enjoy those whispers. Laurel adored her own books, but she still felt more affection for the books of her parents, because they were as much as their own voices."

'The Daughter of the Optimist' also has some delicious dialogues that Laurel's neighbors have, but it is that nostalgia for the past that lingers most in my memory. The novel progresses slowly, but still it goes in crescendo, until a perfect ending. Thanks to Impedimenta for the beautiful edition of this book.