"Curtain of Green" is a remarkable collection of short stories penned by Eudora Welty. The stories within this collection are exquisitely crafted, filled with an abundance of rich details and vivid descriptions. However, despite their literary finesse, they also possess certain qualities that make them rather challenging for the average reader.

To be honest, many of these stories can come across as really boring and confusing. In fact, a significant number of them seem to lack a clear and coherent plot altogether. It's as if the author was more concerned with exploring the nuances of language and literary devices rather than telling a engaging story.

For writers, on the other hand, "Curtain of Green" offers a wealth of valuable insights into the art of using symbolism and metaphors effectively. Welty's masterful use of these literary techniques is truly a sight to behold. But beyond these technical aspects, the stories themselves just don't seem to offer much in the way of entertainment or enjoyment.

Favorites:

The Whistle is a captivating piece that holds a certain charm. It might bring back memories of a bygone era or evoke a sense of mystery.

A Memory is another favorite. It has the power to transport us to a specific time and place, allowing us to relive those precious moments.

Clytie is a unique work that perhaps tells a story of love, loss, or longing. Its details draw us in and make us want to know more.

Flowers for Marjorie is a beautiful title that makes us curious about the relationship between the flowers and Marjorie. What could be the significance of these flowers?

A Curtain if Green is an interesting concept. It might suggest a hidden world or a different perspective that lies behind the green curtain.

Death of a Traveling Salesman is a title that immediately grabs our attention. It makes us wonder about the life and death of this salesman and what led to his demise. Each of these favorites has its own allure and魅力, making them worthy of our attention and admiration.

I had the identical issue with these stories as I had with Flannery O'Connor. There were numerous great beginnings. The character development and imagery were truly incredible. However, more often than not, the stories seemed to lead nowhere. They just sort of fizzled out, leaving me feeling rather unsatisfied.

I was initially reading this in a collection along with "The Wide Net and Other Stories". But I simply couldn't bring myself to finish the second book. It was a real struggle to keep going when the stories didn't seem to have a proper conclusion or a clear direction.

Perhaps I was expecting too much, but I really wanted these stories to take me on a journey and leave a lasting impression. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Maybe I'll give it another try at some point, but for now, I'm left with a sense of disappointment.

But like a needle going in and out among my thoughts,

were the children running merrily on the sand,

their laughter echoing in the air. The upthrust oak trees towered majestically over the clean pointed roof of the white pavilion,

their leaves rustling gently in the breeze. And the slowly changing attitudes of the grown-up people,

who had escaped the hustle and bustle of the city and were lying prone and laughing on the water's edge,

added a touch of relaxation and joy to the scene. I still would not care to say which was more real—the dream I could make blossom at will,

or the sight of the bathers. I am presenting them, you see, only as simultaneous.

Both the dream and the reality coexist in my mind,

blending together to create a beautiful and unforgettable picture.

Sigh.

I truly think this collection of short stories has ruined other books for me for the last three months.

Where to begin? Eudora is so terrific at the art of the short story. She says little of what she is really thinking, but creates tongue-in-cheek plots and characters that set your mind on fire with possibilities. I think of each of her short stories as a sort of mystery tale. In her mission to expose the American South for all its dirty beauty, she is both mercilessly cruel, as well as ironic and hilarious.

Between the tension of her natural humor and exuberance and fiercely enforced intellectual restraint, Welty's central themes (the oppression of blacks and women, and the stupefying religiosity of the South) develop into perfectly ripened fruit. Impressively, her power as a writer comes from saying more by saying less. It's as if she weaves a web of words that draws you in, making you think deeply about the hidden meanings and the complex social issues she presents. Each story is like a little gem, shining with its own unique light and leaving a lasting impression on the reader. I can't wait to explore more of her works and see what other treasures she has in store.

I truly have a deep affection for the story titled "The Hitch-Hikers". It is enveloped in a certain air of mystery that keeps the readers intrigued from start to finish. Tom Harris, the traveling salesman, vividly portrays the sense of helplessness that often plagues our lives. He embarks on a journey that takes unexpected turns, leaving him in a state of confusion and vulnerability.

Moreover, there are several other remarkable stories such as "Petrified Man" and "Why I Live at the P.O." These stories also possess their own unique charm and appeal. "Petrified Man" presents a strange and fascinating scenario that challenges our perception of reality. On the other hand, "Why I Live at the P.O." offers a humorous and yet thought-provoking perspective on family and relationships.

Overall, these stories have the power to transport us into different worlds and make us reflect on the various aspects of our own lives. They are a testament to the creativity and imagination of the authors, and they continue to captivate readers even after all these years.

What lifts a piece of writing out of the ordinary and makes it great? What does immortal prose look like? Why do some stories lodge in your heart and never go away?

Eudora Welty knows. She has a remarkable gift for writing about ordinary people and ordinary things, yet her words resonate with extraordinary power.

For instance, consider the opening of "The Whistle": "Night fell. The darkness was thin, like some sleazy dress that has been worn for many winters and always lets the cold through to the bones. Then the moon rose. A farm lay quite visible, like a white stone in water, among the stretches of deep woods in their colorless dead leaf."

Her writing is characterized by elegance, unpretentiousness, and clarity. When you read her works, you can feel the beauty and depth of her words.

The extract above is just a small sample of the story. It fails to fully capture the overall effect of "The Whistle," as the simple, pitch-perfect sentences are merely a means to an end. The story as a whole is a beautiful and moving piece of literature that showcases Welty's talent as a writer.

The stories in this collection are truly profound. Ms. Welty delves into psychological and other realms that many other short story writers wouldn't dare to approach, even if they were cognizant of their existence. There were moments when, upon finishing a story, I felt an immediate urge to reread it, yet I simply didn't have the strength. This comment is indeed a tribute to the power of these stories.

Let me share just a few sentences from "A Worn Path". In one sense, they might be regarded as descriptive, but they are far more than that.

"She carried a thin, small cane made from an umbrella, and with this she kept tapping the frozen earth in front of her. This made a grave and persistent noise in the still air, that seemed meditative like the chirping of a solitary little bird.

…

On she went. The woods were deep and still. The sun made the pine needles almost too bright to look at, up where the wind rocked. The cones dropped as light as feathers. Down in the hollow was the morning dove - it was not too late for him."

I'll simply add that if you read these stories, there will likely be some that will forever remain in your memory. I doubt that "The Key", "Clytie", "The Whistle", "Lily Daw and the Three Ladies", "The Hitch-Hikers", "A Visit of Charity", "Death of a Traveling Salesman", and "The Worn Path" will ever leave mine.

I should mention that two of her most well-known stories, "Why I live at the P.O." and "Powerhouse", had the least impact on me. Go figure.

One final addition (which has nothing to do with Eudora Welty or this collection of stories):

The ending of "Petrified Man" - "If you're so smart, how come you ain't rich?" - reminded me of an anecdote I read years ago about Dave Von Ronk and Bob Dylan. Dylan, in the midst of his early successes, was conversing with Von Ronk, who had been one of his early inspirations, and telling Von Ronk that he should give up playing acoustic folk-blues and let Dylan produce his next album. Von Ronk became exasperated and walked away, saying, "If you're so rich, Dylan, how come you ain't smart?"

Of course, a year or two later, Von Ronk took Dylan's advice, joined a band, the Hudson Dusters (led by Dave Woods, the son of famed songwriter, Harry Woods), and released an album that never sold. The album was commercially unsuccessful for various reasons - the primary one being that Von Ronk didn't possess Dylan's genius.

I had high expectations of loving Eudora Welty's writing, but unfortunately, I was left disappointed.

I slogged through this collection, and only a couple of the more humorous stories managed to bring a smile to my face. (Why I Live at the P.O., The Petrified Man)

Most of the stories seemed heavy-handed and overly melodramatic. The language, too, was far too florid for my personal taste.

However, I do plan to return to Welty at some point and give some of her other collections a try.

I'm rating this a generous 3 stars because it could simply be my current mood that is affecting my perception.

Currently, I'm reading The Warmth of Other Suns, and stories of quirky white Southerners just aren't appealing to me at the moment.

Maybe a different time and a different mindset will allow me to fully appreciate Welty's work.

It's been over twenty years since I took my Southern Fiction class in college.

Looking back, that class was a truly transformative experience for me.

The stories we read introduced me to a world of rich characters, deep emotions, and complex themes.

Now, re-reading these stories, I find that my appreciation for them has only grown.

I am once again drawn into the vivid landscapes and the unique cultures that are so beautifully depicted in these works.

The characters seem to come alive on the page, their joys and sorrows palpable.

I am struck by the skill and artistry of the authors, who are able to convey so much with just a few words.

Re-reading these stories has also given me a new perspective on my own life and experiences.

It has made me realize the importance of storytelling and how it can connect us to our past, our present, and our future.

I am grateful for the opportunity to have studied Southern Fiction in college, and I look forward to continuing to explore this wonderful genre for many years to come.

I have no words to describe this incredible collection of stories written between the 1930s and 1940s by the hitherto unknown, to me, Eudora Welty. I think that even those who roll their eyes at short stories will be able to believe in and appreciate them.

The atmosphere is that of the American South, of Mississippi, with its characteristic and diverse human sample that in part recalls the settings and characters already described by Mark Twain.

Above all, I mention Powerhouse, in which a white narrator tells, with a language full of clichés, the exhibition of a black jazz band that plays in a whites-only venue. ”Outside, it’s a nasty night. Inside, it’s a white dance and no one dances except four scattered fanatics and two pairs of old people: the others are all standing around the band and looking at Powerhouse. Sometimes they exchange a sidelong glance, as if to say: Well, of course, you know how it is with these here - the blacks - these bandleaders - they’d play like this anyway, giving their soul, even for one person…” Powerhouse starts with white pieces, like Marie, the Dawn is Breaking!, then switches to \\n  Honeysuckle Rose\\n, by Fats Waller. And after playing the waltz Pagan Love Song on request, he launches into a long oratorical performance with call and response between him and the members of the band. The story is very enjoyable in itself, but by searching for the musical pieces and the characters mentioned online, one comes across a vast mass of articles that analyze the story and the relationship between literature and music, of which that of Michael Hollister, found on the website American literature, represents an interesting complete synthesis.

What can I say? Can we assign six stars here too?

Welty’s debut collection, A Curtain of Green, which was published in 1941, is truly remarkable. It consists of 17 stories that firmly established her reputation as one of the great short story writers of the 20th century. I was completely captivated by her very distinct voice. It is a voice that is deeply intertwined with the landscape and climate of Mississippi. However, it also has an otherworldly, strange, and sometimes even gothic quality. This is evident in the story "Clytie," where we witness the disintegration of the Farr Family. Their fortunes have withered away, and the family is mainly focused on taking care of a bedridden patriarch.

But there is also incredible humor in her works. For instance, in one of Welty’s more famous stories, "When I Lived at the P.O.," we are treated to the hilarious musings of an unreliable narrator who is absolutely furious with her sister Stella-Rondo. The story almost has elements of slapstick that would not be out of place in a movie by Marlon and Shawn Wayans. Among all the stories, "The Hitch-Hikers" was the most compelling for me. It is a strange tale of a single night in which a traveling salesman picks up two hoboes. One of them ends up using a beer bottle to attack the other. The story unfolds like a fever dream, with the traveling salesman wandering around town at night, seeking distractions in booze and women, while he (and we) wait to find out if the injured man survives the night.