Welty has told a story not about calculation, but rather about the inability to calculate. In the book, there is a universe that the characters do not see/cannot see/will not be able to see. We read about how four characters who become estranged by going blind cannot evaluate the one-square-meter space they occupy in the world. It is one of the novels with a fascinating and impressive side. It definitely contains all the features of the Southern Gothic, which is its subgenre. Especially all the elements of reality that take place in the background of the first two sections are the things that most of us have actually experienced, things that make our hair stand on end and our stomachs queasy. What I liked the most was that she was able to convey it to us in detail just by identifying the situation without telling about the four characters. I prefer writers who put the reader in front of them and do not shout at the top of their voices. Welty also told her story in a method that shows from a great distance.

I just completed reading Welty's Optimist Daughter for the 2010 Eudora Welty Writers' Symposium.

Welty's ability to offer a profound and nuanced exploration of Southern culture is truly remarkable. The story's protagonist, Laurel, finds herself grappling with numerous dilemmas and divided loyalties following the passing of her father. As she reflects on the deaths of her mother and husband before him, she gains different perspectives on life, from which she must make choices.

Both of Laurel's parents suffered from vision problems (cataracts) and underwent eye surgery, which, although not necessarily the cause of their deaths, adds an interesting layer to the narrative. Laurel's husband was named Hand, and the inept handyman who fails to drive the dirty chimney swift out of the house is called Cheek, while the maid, Missouri, proves to be more competent.

The funeral and Laurel's father's second wife, Faye, are surrounded by much dark comedy. Faye, who believes she embodies the future and has severed all ties with her past (the family from Texas who arrives at the funeral), provides an additional source of conflict.

In conclusion, despite its dark undertones, the novel ultimately serves as a thoughtful meditation on modern life and life in the South.

First, here's a joke. An old Irishman tells his friend, “I went to the optimist yesterday to order my new glasses.” “Don’t you mean optometrist?” the friend asks. “No,” the man replies, “he thinks he’s getting paid for them.” (My husband and I heard this told twice from the stage at gigs we attended in November to December last year!)

This book by a Pulitzer Prize winner is rather muted. Laurel, a young widow, goes with her father, Judge McKelva, and his second (much younger) wife, Fay, to New Orleans for the judge's eye surgery by a respected doctor. The judge recovers well at first but then suddenly dies of a heart attack one morning. Fay is petulant and self-centered, only thinking about how much work this causes for her and the nerve of him to die on her birthday.

The rest of the book follows Laurel and Fay as they return to the family home in Mississippi, deal with the funeral, and prepare to go back to their separate lives. Although they are nearly the same age, they have very different temperaments and classes. Fay is desperate not to fit the poor white trash stereotype that others might impose on her.

It took me weeks to slog through this book, even though it's a novella. Maybe it's because the scenes and emotions seem so subdued. There's a wide range of family acquaintances who are supposed to represent the good and bad of the South. I liked Laurel's grief for her mother and husband, but the scene of the chimney swift felt too obvious to me.

This was a book club read. We mostly discussed Southern stereotypes. Some of the other members thought more highly of the book. They are ladies of a certain age who like quiet reads. While I think Claire Keegan may have been inspired by Welty, my overall reaction to Keegan has been much more positive.

Best lines: “Is there any sleeping person you can be entirely sure you have not misjudged?” and “But who could there be that she wanted to tell? Her mother. Her dead mother only.”

Yes, being alive, starting with the memories of those who have passed away and living with those memories is a quite impressive text, The Daughter of the Optimistic Father.

Especially, I was very impressed by the third part.

I hope that those who want to read a short but impressive text will not miss it.

This text makes us think about the meaning of life and how we should cherish the memories of our loved ones.

It shows that even in the face of loss, we can find strength and hope in the memories we hold dear.

The Daughter of the Optimistic Father is a beautiful and touching story that will stay with you long after you have finished reading it.

It is a reminder that life is precious and that we should make the most of every moment.

Whether it is through the memories of those who have gone before us or the experiences we have in the present, we can find meaning and purpose in our lives.

I highly recommend this text to anyone who is looking for a thought-provoking and inspiring read.

It is Summer, a season that always beckons us to delve into the Southern Literature Treasure Bag and extract a volume or two, or perhaps even more! This year, the first volume that caught my attention was Eudora Welty’s Pulitzer Prize-winning work, The Optimist’s Daughter. Composed late in her career, Welty was honored with the Prize in 1973 for this concise yet profound volume.

The story revolves around Laurel McKelva Hand, the affectionate daughter of Judge McKelva of Mount Salus, Mississippi. Laurel is a widow of naval hero Philip Hand and a talented artist who makes her living in distant Chicago. She travels there by the renowned train, The City of New Orleans, the pride of the Illinois Central Railway. The good judge is a widower who has remarried. His first wife was not from Mississippi but managed to fit in well. However, Fay, the judge’s second wife, hails from Texas and is nothing like his first wife. She has failed to adapt to the genteel small-town life of Mississippi. It is difficult to envision where she could belong; she is simple-minded and a greedy, needy narcissist who demands to be the center of attention and have her needs met instantly. By any standard, Fay is as blatant as Attila the Hun. But at least she is forthright about it all.

One day, the judge scratches his eye, and his small-town doctor takes him to a New Orleans hospital. His surgery appears to be successful, but he must lie motionless for many days to allow the eye to heal. Eventually, Fay snaps and attempts to pull him out of the bed. Before others can reach him, he is already dead. I am unsure whether Fay killed him or if he was already deceased before she pulled him. Fay’s reaction is one of fury that the judge died and abandoned her, and she vows to seek revenge!! There is no thought for the judge and his family and friends, only that she feels “cheated” by his death.

The judge’s body is returned to his home in Mount Salus. Laurel does not desire an open casket, but by Jesus, Fay does and is determined to have her way. And so, the story unfolds.

Like many Southern novels, this one explores themes of memory, tradition, family, friends, loyalty, propriety, the old ways versus the new ways, a touch of religion, and the clash of wills. Welty weaves a compelling narrative of destructive contrasts and their consequences. It is a comforting book that描绘s uncomfortable personalities who are constantly at odds. Although not as popular today, this book is well worth a summer read to transport oneself to a different time (which I remember vividly) and a different place (which I have never known). It serves as a reminder of the rich Southern tradition of fine literature that has endured from the past until the present.

After just twenty pages, I knew I was in the hands of a master. A daughter returns home to Mississippi to deal with the fallout of her father’s eye surgery and subsequent death.

Although this novel is ostensibly about handling death and memory, it truly delves into the idea of confronting the blinders we don as we traverse life. The optimist of the title isn't solely Laurel’s father, but also the doctor who proclaims “everything will be great,” the step-mother who dwells in a narcissistic bubble, the townsfolk who each have their own separate illusions of the old judge’s life, and Laurel herself, who has to grapple with the loss in her own life that she has suppressed.

Blind characters abound in the novel. There is one who shares a room with the judge after his surgery and another who attends the funeral. Window blinds are raised, lowered, and even ripped from windows. A disoriented chimney bird blindly flits through the house in search of escape. Laurel herself works in Chicago painting theatrical backdrops, literally creating fantasy images that hide the inner workings of the backstage area from the audience. This gives her a deeper understanding of the real world of her life and her family – the one that all other characters are blind to.

There are countless remarkable lines in this novel. Welty has the ability to pen short, declarative sentences with devastating force. The kind of lines that convey entire backstories in a single sentence. Here is my favorite: “In the backyard next door, Miss Adele was hanging something white on the clothesline. She turned as if intuitively toward the window, and raised her arm to wave. It was a beckoning sort of wave. She beckons with her pain, thought Laurel, realizing how often her father must have stood just here, resting his eyes, and looked out at her without ever seeing her.”

“She beckons with her pain” is one of those lines that halts you in your tracks, for it describes a truth that we all experience. It's a trait that Laurel perceives in others, but she has to strive to see within herself. It's a struggle that we all face.

This has become an instant favorite novel of mine, and I'm eagerly anticipating reading more of Welty's works.

3.5 stars.

This rating indicates that the product or service in question has received a moderately positive evaluation.

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A 3.5-star rating might mean that the item functions well overall, but perhaps lacks a certain level of excellence or innovation.

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It may not be the top choice for those seeking perfection, but it could be a great option for those looking for a reliable and reasonably priced alternative.

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First encounter with the work of Junot Díaz, with his most widely read book, which incidentally won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1973.

It is a deeply human and low-key narrative that talks about loss and the demythologization of parents, about the past that should not define the future, but also about all kinds of debts. Certainly, it is a book that will "say" more things to those who have lost someone very close and very dear, although here where we are at the age when most people will read this particular book, they will surely have experienced some unpleasant events anyway.

Anyway, it is a very well-written and rather melancholy narrative. It may not be offered for a pleasant or light reading, but it has things to give to readers, such as some intense images and some strong emotions. I can't say that I enjoyed it, but it certainly made some impression on me.

That's why at the last moment it also gets a fourth star. (7.5/10)

Oh my... I don't know where to start.

First, I firmly believe that Eudora Welty is a remarkable writer. Although I haven't delved deeply into her extensive body of work, it doesn't take much reading to recognize her brilliance. The way she manipulates language and constructs her sentences is truly a thing of beauty. This is precisely why I can effortlessly award this book three stars. There are certain passages within this book where the prose is simply enchanting.

However, having said that, I do have some reservations about the remainder of it. I am from the South, just like Welty. So, I had the impression that we would be "speaking" the same language in many respects. But, at least from my perspective, some of the characters come across as inauthentic. Fay's family is actually rather comical, and Fay herself is no exception. Yet, on the other hand, there is a very profound and reflective aspect to this novel as well. To me, the combination of these two elements makes it seem rather disjointed. The storyline doesn't flow smoothly for me and appears to be very contrived and unnatural - almost forced, if that makes any sense.

I can understand that many people can extract a great deal from this book. The sections that explore Laurel's grief and how she copes with it are indeed very well done.

And perhaps it's just me because I had such high expectations. After all, it is a Pulitzer-winning novel, and I am aware of what Eudora Welty is capable of. So, I went into it anticipating an "experience." But for me, it was just average.

I must be missing something, as it's won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction and has numerous sparkling reviews. However, I did not enjoy this book at all.

At only 180 pages, this book was still a struggle for me to get through. The narrative was both vague and tedious. The storyline seemed disjointed and at times defied belief. I failed to find the meaning in the blatantly meant-to-be-symbolic events, such as the home invasion by a chimney swift.

Additionally, I felt the characters were grossly underdeveloped. Fay, the antagonist (who probably gets the most written attention), is portrayed stereotypically as the shallow, ignorant, and significantly younger second wife of an aging once-titan. Not much insight is given into her motivation, even with the introduction of her backwards family. I often wondered if the protagonist, Laurel, wasn't a bit slow given her absence of interaction with other characters. Other minor players seemed to be introduced and dismissed at will.

All in all, I was left dissatisfied and wanting after reading. Perhaps if there had been more character development, I would have become more involved and vested in the outcome. As it was, I was bored and disinterested by the confrontation at the end and simply wanted to be done with it. I hope that future works by this author will offer more depth and engage the reader on a more profound level.

I was deeply impressed when I met the book "The Optimist's Daughter" by Eudora Welty.

The book tells about Laurel's return to the small Mississippi town where she was born due to her father's illness, who lost his wife years ago, and what happened during this period. It turns into a story about reckoning with family, the past, as it portrays the customs and human relationships of a southern town, coming to life line by line.

Eudora Welty's short but profound sentences especially impressed me. She seems to have given a lesson in how to convey a lot with few words. The final note is that this book won the Pulitzer Prize in 1973. I was angry with myself for not having read this writer until now, and I wholeheartedly thank Cem Alpan, who provided me with the opportunity to get to know her.

This book contains extremely beautiful passages.

There are sentences that we read and then go back to read one, two, three times.

The theme it delves into is one of the most delicate, disturbing, and emotional that any human being has to survive - the passing of a loved one.

So why only 2 stars?

Eudora Welty. The writing of Eudora Welty. I couldn't feel captivated, involved.

It was a book that passed through my hands but I can't abandon it feeling something for it.

I'm anesthetized.

I feel nothing.

I feel empty.

Hollow.

And I think a reading with such beautiful sentences, about such a human theme, shouldn't be like this.

For example, on page 49, it says, “Quando Laurel era criança, neste quarto e nesta cama onde se encontrava agora, fechava os olhos assim e o rítmico som nocturno das vozes dos dois entes queridos, a lerem alternadamente, subia as escadas para ir ter com ela. (...) Pela noite fora, as vozes deles a lerem um para o outro (...) sem deixar que nenhum silêncio as interrompesse, uniam-se numa voz única e ininterrupta que a envolvia (...) Adormecia sob um manto aveludado de palavras, (...), enquanto eles prosseguiam a leitura no interior dos seus sonhos\\".

On page 121, “Mas a culpa por sobrevivermos àqueles que amamos, é justo que a carreguemos, pensava ela. Sobreviver-lhes é uma desconsideração que lhes fazemos.”

And on page 132, “A memória pode ser ferida, uma e outra vez, mas aí talvez resida a sua clemência final. Enquanto for vulnerável ao momento da vida, vive para nós, e enquanto vive, e enquanto formos capazes, podemos dar-lhe o que lhe e devido.”

Despite these wonderful excerpts, the overall reading experience left me wanting more. I expected to be deeply moved by the story and the writing, but unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Maybe it's just a personal preference, but I couldn't help but feel a sense of detachment while reading this book.