Eudora Welty's 'A Curtain of Green' is truly a remarkable 5-star collection of short stories. It holds a prominent position, quite possibly being the second best in American history, only surpassed by Flannery O'Connor's 'A Good Man is Hard to Find'. Her second book of stories, 'The Wide Net', was also a solid 4-star follow-up.

However, unfortunately, in 'The Golden Apples', all the elements that made Welty great seem to be absent. I'm not sure exactly what went wrong, but the longer story setting didn't seem to work in her favor. So many of the stories in this collection just gave the impression of being lost.

Therefore, it is highly recommended that you check out her earlier work. Her earlier books were truly outstanding and展现了her remarkable talent and craftsmanship as a writer. They are well worth exploring and enjoying.

This is a book of short stories that is set in a fictional town in old school Mississippi around the 1940s.

I am generally not a big fan of short stories, and unfortunately, this book did not manage to change my mind.

However, one cannot deny that Eudora Welty is truly excellent at crafting original and striking metaphors, similes, and descriptions of everyday life events and experiences.

If you do some research on this book online, you will discover that her stories draw inspiration from Greek mythology.

But to be honest, any reference or similarity to Greek mythology was far too obscure for me to detect.

If you happen to like short stories and/or have an appreciation for finely crafted language (as in parts the book is extremely poetic), then it might be worth giving Eudora a try.

She has several collections of short stories available out there for you to explore.

Who knows, maybe you will find something that truly captivates you.

Welty is the doyenne of the Southern Fiction school, side by side with William Faulkner. This work, she noted, owes a great deal to The Sound and the Fury. Just like Faulkner, Welty doesn't make it easy for the reader. This isn't a page-turner in the traditional sense, except that one is constantly turning the pages back to figure out what's really going on.

In form, The Golden Apples is a 'cycle' novel - a short-story cycle - that portrays an entire community by bundling together a set of individual stories. Other classic examples in American literature are Sherwood Anderson's Winesburg, Ohio and Hemingway's In Our Time. Turgenev is usually credited as the inventor of this form, but it has never really taken off in Britain.

The Golden Apples begins with a monologue, 'Shower of Gold', which may be interior (like Benjy's monologue in The Sound and the Fury) or else ramblingly conversational. The speaker, Mrs Fate Rainey, runs a small convenience store in the small Mississippi town of Morgana. She's not a literate woman but is very talkative.

That was Miss Snowdie MacLain. She comes after her butter, won't let me run over with it from just across the road. Her husband walked out of the house one day and left his hat on the banks of the Big Black River. - That could have started something too.

Snowdie's husband is King MacLain. He left his wife with twins - strange offspring, one of whom is albino. He has scattered other, illegitimate, offspring throughout Morgana. King is glimpsed from time to time but never seems to actually live there. The cycle ends, six stories later, with Mrs Fate Rainey's funeral.

King dominates the whole book. One story, 'Sir Rabbit', describes his encounter with a young married woman, Mattie Will Holifield, and her hunter husband in the woods. He stuns the husband and has his way violently with the delectable Mattie. Another illegitimate child will be on the way. No one seems to hold it against him.

There are plenty of hints, some so obvious as to be clumsy, that beneath this portrayal of rural life in the south (as steamily realistic as Erskine Caldwell's God's Little Acre) is a framework of mythology. Critics have puzzled over the significance of 'Morgana' (where exactly does Morgana le Fey fit in?) and what the titular allusion to the golden apples of the Hesperides means. One thing critics agree on is that King MacLain is a 'Zeus figure' - the insatiably lustful sovereign deity who takes his victims in 'a shower of gold'. Compare the description of the taking of Mattie with that of Leda by Zeus in the Yeats poem.

The Yeats connection is significant and deliberate. Ireland (after its civil war) and the American South (after the Civil War) were both depressed to a state of near primitivism. Both Yeats (with his mythic celebration of pagan Ireland) and Welty assert that this, perversely, offered spiritual riches: a closer contact with the essentials of the human condition, as recorded in myth, than 'civilisation' could ever know. It's a questionable theory (rape in the woods is still rape - not communion with the divine). But it makes for literature that the New Yorker reviewer Hamilton Basso could rave about, 'I doubt that a better book about "the South" . . . has ever been written'.

This is my professor's favorite book.

It's a pity for us students, but I'm happy for her. She is really smart, having a PhD and everything.

Her love for this book must be deep, and it probably holds some special meaning or value for her.

Maybe it has inspired her in her academic pursuits or given her some profound insights.

I wonder what makes this book so dear to her.

I might have to take a closer look at it myself to try and understand her perspective.

Despite our initial disappointment, perhaps we can learn something from her passion for this book and apply it to our own studies.

After all, having a favorite book can be a source of inspiration and motivation.

Maybe we'll discover our own favorite books that will have a similar impact on us.

I've had the pleasure of reading several works by Eudora Welty, but this one didn't quite measure up to my expectations.

On the positive side, Welty once again showcases her remarkable talent for description. She effortlessly transports the reader into the rich and vibrant Southern experience. I wasn't just reading about the people of Mississippi; I felt as if I was right there, an invisible observer of the lives unfolding in this small town. The fictional town and its characters may be made up, but they feel so real because they could represent any small Southern community. Those of us who have lived in the South can easily recognize the familiar traits and idiosyncrasies of the people.

However, there were also some drawbacks. While I usually don't require a complex storyline and prefer character studies, I found that there wasn't much depth to these characters. They didn't engage in many significant actions, and their personalities weren't particularly captivating. Additionally, Welty's writing style seemed a bit too vague for my taste. It was difficult for me to fully understand what was happening in the stories. This is not the same as Faulkner's style, where his stories are like puzzles that are enjoyable to solve. With Welty, the descriptions of actions often left me guessing as to their true meaning. The stories progress through the inner thoughts of the characters and their dialogues with others, but unfortunately, neither the thoughts nor the conversations provided a great deal of information.

If you simply enjoy reading about people in warm environments, small towns, and ordinary conversations, you might like this book. But overall, I believe Welty has done better in her other works.

OK... so technically I didn't read this entire book, but it sure felt like I did. About 20 times.

This book made me feel like I was a little girl again, listening to all of my aunts and older cousins discussing everyone in my grandmother's small community. Eventually, I would tune out or fall asleep and wake up later, not quite knowing what had happened or if what I thought I'd heard was what I'd really heard.

This book has many "dreamlike" passages that seem not to be based in any sort of reality. In the next paragraph, though, you are back to reality--just a little bit farther than you left it. It's kind of surreal and admirable the way Welty was able to meld the short stories in the book together, interspersing mythology and the works of other authors.

However, it was just too much work for me at this point in my reading life. Maybe I'll come back to it again at another time. I didn't hate it, but I didn't like it much at all until I attended a book discussion of the book. The discussion intrigued me enough to consider revisiting it at some point in the future.

The author's unique writing style and the complex interweaving of different elements made it a challenging read. But perhaps with more time and a different mindset, I will be able to fully appreciate the beauty and depth of this book. Only time will tell.

Eudora Welty's The Golden Apples is, in a sense, beyond the human mind and what fiction typically addresses. Her fiction is like poetry, yet it transcends poetry. It is complex not in a supernatural way but perhaps in a superhuman way: in ways that are real yet beyond the human understanding. Virgie, in the collection's closing story, "The Wanderers," serves as a fine example of this.

She knew that at the river, where she had been before on moonlit autumn nights, drunk and sleepless, mist blanketed the water and filled the trees. From her eyes to the moon, there would be a cone, a long silent horn, of white light. It was a connection visible like hair in the air, between the self and the moon, making the self feel like a child, a daughter from far, far back. Then the water, warmer than the night air or the self that might suddenly turn cold, like any other arms, took the body under too, flowing invisibly into the mouth. As she drifted in the river, too alert and insolent in her heart in those days, the mist might thin momentarily, and brilliant jewel eyes would gaze out from the water-line and the bank. Sometimes in the weeds, a lightning bug would blink on and off, on and off, for as long as she was there to see in the night.

Nothing in the preceding paragraph is beyond reality, but it is indeed beyond normal human consciousness. It's as if the book's characters are constantly in a state of meditation, absorbing every detail around them: making even the tiniest things "visible as the hair is in air."

Meditation extends far beyond the natural world and encompasses all the people in Welty's Morgana, Mississippi. From bubbly socialites not quite like Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway to introverted men like Ran MacLain of "The Whole World Knows," these characters are the subjects of Welty's meditation and are as lovely and clear to her as "in the weeds a lightning bug [that] would lighten, on and off, on and off, for as long in the night as she was there to see."

*Page numbers are from The Collected Stories of Eudora Welty.

Beautifully written, the female characters are strongly developed.

The depiction of the small fictional town in Mississippi is so evocative that you can almost feel the sweat bead up on your lip and smell the fragrant flowers.

The unique structure is another highlight. The individual stories are connected through the place and characters, and they come together seamlessly in the last story.

However, it is challenging reading. Eudora Welty has high expectations of the reader. You need to savor these stories at a slower pace than usual to extract their depth. I must admit that I definitely did not fully understand all that was there.

It's like when we eat barbecue ribs, my efforts always seem to leave way too much meat on the bone.

Nevertheless, I plan to continue with the other stories in the full collection volume at some point. I find her unique voice truly fascinating. It draws me in and makes me eager to explore more of her works.

I believe that with each reading, I will discover new layers and meanings, just like uncovering hidden treasures in a literary mine.

Why did it take me such a long time to read more of Eudora Welty? This is a question that has been萦绕 in my mind. We should all simply be reading Eudora Welty all the time.

Her works are like precious gems, waiting to be discovered and cherished. Each story she tells is a unique exploration of the human condition, filled with rich characters and vivid descriptions.

When I finally delved deeper into her writings, I was amazed by the depth and beauty of her prose. It was as if she had the ability to bring the characters and settings to life right before my eyes.

Now, I understand that I should have made Eudora Welty a constant companion in my literary journey. Her works have the power to touch our hearts, expand our minds, and make us see the world in a different light.

I will no longer waste time and will continue to immerse myself in the wonderful world of Eudora Welty's literature.

**Title: "2,5⭐️ - Surprisingly boring yet in a positive sense"**

The rating of 2,5⭐️ might seem rather unimpressive at first glance. However, upon closer inspection, it reveals a unique and interesting aspect. While it is labeled as "boring," it is not in the traditional negative connotation. Instead, it has a positive undertone.

This kind of "boring" could imply a sense of simplicity and tranquility. It might suggest that the subject matter or experience is not overly exciting or stimulating, but rather offers a calm and uncomplicated atmosphere. In a world filled with constant chaos and excitement, this type of boredom can be a welcome relief.

It allows one to relax, unwind, and enjoy the moment without the need for constant entertainment or distraction. It gives us the opportunity to focus on the present and find beauty in the ordinary. So, while 2,5⭐️ may initially seem like a mediocre rating, it actually holds a certain charm and value that should not be overlooked.

I hope Eudora Welty, who passed away recently, is not gradually being forgotten.

I also hope she is not being relegated to the category of "beloved regional author" or some such absurdity. Welty was a significant American writer who produced some highly demanding artworks.

In my opinion, this is her finest book. It belongs to an unusual genre: it is neither a collection of short stories nor a novel.

It is a unified artistic creation composed of interconnected stories, or perhaps I should say "pieces," as some of them are not truly stories and would lack coherence without the context of the entire book.

This book is about the inhabitants of a small town named Morgana, Mississippi. It is also about the profound loneliness of the human condition and the tenacious attempt to penetrate the barrier between the self and the other.

It is about how, as Welty once stated, "we are the breakers of our own hearts."

Do not be misled into thinking that the most frequently anthologized Welty stories, such as "A Worn Path" and "Why I Live at the P.O.," encapsulate the scope of her work. They do not.

There is nothing amiss with either of those stories, but they are more like the入门 level of Welty's fiction. I suggest obtaining her Collected Stories, which includes The Golden Apples. Read the entire collection.

There will be more on her other stories in separate entries on the Collected Stories.

I think I was compelled to read this collection of seven interconnected stories all at once, rather than spacing them out over days and losing the immersive experience of being in Eudora Welty's world.

The members of the same families in the same small Mississippi town make appearances in all the stories. Sometimes they are just fleeting glimpses, while at other times they reappear after a long absence. Interestingly, they are never all present at the same time, not even during a significant community gathering like a funeral.

Welty's writing is truly poetic, and at times the language seems to glow with a special kind of luminosity. She was not only a brilliant chronicler of southern life but also a great literary figure in the US. In this work, her characters, their land, and their society come into and out of focus, almost as if she is deftly manipulating the lenses of a camera. The stories themselves are fragmented. Although they are linked, they don't form a single, continuous narrative but rather a collection of scenes captured from different angles and arranged in chronological order.

The introduction by Paul Binding to this Penguin edition mentions the mythological undertones in some of the stories, and Welty herself alludes to the myth of Perseus and the Gorgon Medusa in the final pages of the last story. However, I must admit that I was unable to make these connections as I was reading, despite being familiar with the referenced myths.

In the end, I found myself baffled by the extensive symbolism and the almost mystical 'otherness' of some passages. To gain a better understanding of Welty, I would need to read her own writings on the craft of writing, but I don't think I will undertake that task. So, I will simply have to come to terms with my failure in comprehension and instead focus on absorbing the unique atmospheres she creates.