After Guy Davenport referred to her as the only true heir to Joyce, I finally got around to reading my copy.

And truly, she is among the best American prose stylists I've read. Her writing is a marvel to behold.

However, be warned that this is not a book for readers interested in plot. It's not about following a linear narrative or waiting for something to happen.

Rather, like the whirlpool at the center of the best paragraph in the book, it's a whirl of characters, place, and language caught in a moment as the rest of the river flows on.

The words seem to dance on the page, creating a vivid and immersive world that draws you in and holds you captive.

It's a book that demands your attention and rewards it with beautiful prose and deep insights into the human condition.

If you're willing to let go of your expectations of a traditional plot and simply surrender to the beauty of the language, you'll find a rich and fulfilling reading experience.

It's truly difficult not to adopt a southern drawl after delving into this book.

The language within its pages was akin to the slow, unwavering flow of the Delta; both enchanting and yet plagued with turmoil.

The Fairchilds, what kind of family are they exactly? Are they astonishing or repugnant?

I'm certain that I don't sense that the characters possessed grandeur, but rather they were brimming with the essence of the natural man.

They seemed to embody the raw and unfiltered aspects of human nature, with all its flaws and idiosyncrasies.

Their actions and interactions were a reflection of the complex web of emotions and desires that drive us all.

As I turned the pages, I found myself both intrigued and repelled by their story, unable to look away from the drama that unfolded before my eyes.

It was a captivating exploration of the human condition, set against the backdrop of the southern landscape.

I've been writing a great deal lately about feminist musicologist Susan McClary and her concepts regarding the necessity of an alternative narrative practice. McClary endeavors to find a mode of storytelling that doesn't linger in a realm of perpetual desire, of constantly striving for a climax or resolution which, once attained, marks the end of the story (the so-called "phallic" or "heroic" narrative arc). Instead, it emphasizes pleasure over desire and glorifies what McClary terms a "voluptuous 'being-in-time' quality" - an exploration of what we possess and who we are, rather than what we want and who we would prefer to be. Understandably, when I've written about this in the past, certain individuals have commented thus: "That's a cool idea, but what would a 'non-phallic' novel look like?" Well now, my friends, I can inform you: for a heart-wrenchingly beautiful example of prose that relishes its own moment, its voluptuous being-in-time, look no further than Eudora Welty's Delta Wedding.

The plot of Delta Wedding is so straightforward that it's essentially encapsulated in the title. Welty presents us with a subtle, lush, yet infinitely dynamic portrait of a large family in the Mississippi Delta, preparing for the wedding of their second daughter as the hustle and bustle of life continues around the group and its individual members. The Fairchild clan is perpetually in motion. "There's always so much - so much happening here!" exclaims an aunt delightedly, and Welty excels at capturing the lovingly oppressive whirlwind of the packed plantation house, teeming with arrivals, departures, personal legends and their aftermaths, cross-currents of conversation, momentary crises, and unforeseen delights. Yet many characters realize, or sense, at different moments, that for all the whirling chaos of the Fairchild life, there is a sense in which their constant state of iridescent change is itself an unchanging landscape.
Throughout this novel, Welty toys with the tension between the changing and the unchanging, the momentary and the perennial. In describing the Delta twilight, she writes, "It was not yet dark - it would never get dark." A baby is即将 born who will carry the name of his dead war-hero uncle, long remembered by the family. And at the close of the book, one of the youngest children tells her cousin, "My secret is... I've seen it all afore. It's all happened afore." Welty positions her narrative at a day of transition - a wedding, after which Dabney Fairchild will leave her parents' home. Change: and yet, Dabney and her new husband Troy will still live in a house owned by the Fairchild family, just a short ride away. This apparent change is merely another step in the process of perpetuating the close Fairchild family ties into another generation. The clan as a whole functions as its own character, and yet individuals forge their own paths within it - sometimes respecting the status quo, sometimes rebelling against it; sometimes craving the attention of the Fairchilds, and sometimes longing to escape. Even Dabney's marriage is conceived as a form of rebellion - she is marrying "beneath her" as a gesture of independence, to the dismay of much of her family. But at the same time, many of her other family members have also married out of their class, including the favorite son, Uncle George, on whom everyone dotes. So Dabney is simultaneously challenging the family structure and yet fitting in perfectly with it; moving away from it and yet forming its next branch. Delta Wedding captures her at that exhilarating, headstrong moment of youth when her passionate resolutions have yet to be tested or compromised.

This seemingly understated yet astonishingly engaging novel creates such a vivid picture of life on the Mississippi Delta.

What I truly adore is that what unfolds is not a traditional plot, strictly speaking, but rather the genuine life of a family. Through Welty's remarkable prose, the daily events come alive, breathing and pulsating with authenticity.

It's truly remarkable how Welty manages to capture the essence of this family's existence, making the reader feel as if they are right there, experiencing every moment along with them.

In contrast, all those recent "Southern authors" seem to pale in comparison. Their works may have their merits, but they lack the depth and nuance that Welty brings to the table.

Welty's novel is a true masterpiece, a work of art that will be cherished for years to come. It's a testament to her talent as a writer and her ability to bring the South to life in all its glory.

I initially had a rather tough time with this book.

I found Welty's voice extremely difficult to get a hold of.

Moreover, after reading "Beloved", it was indeed a real (and at times rather nauseating) experience to read about this somewhat idyllic plantation family in the South.

That being said, the writing itself was actually truly fascinating.

The story has a slow pace and, as advertised, not much occurs other than a Delta wedding.

However, there are numerous nuances within the story that I really enjoyed.

For one thing, it is mainly told through the wandering thoughts of multiple women in the family.

Welty has this mysterious and poetic way of describing all that remains unsaid within a large family.

There is a great deal of subtle commentary on marriage and gender roles woven into the story.

I was also intrigued by Laura's perspective as a semi-outsider who eventually gets welcomed into the Fairchild clan.

Robbie and George's relationship left me with more questions than answers, but strangely enough, I kind of liked that.

I don't know, it's a strange book and I can understand how it may not be to everyone's taste, but it was the writing that made it enjoyable to read.

It's like a puzzle of a story.

A warm and light domestic drama unfolds, centering around a wedding and the week-long preparations that precede it. Set in the Mississippi Delta of the early 1920s, the story delves into the lives of the Fairchild family. This family is not only sprawling, with its members spread across three or four plantation houses and even into Memphis, but also insular. Those who have married into the family often struggle to feel fully integrated. The cast of characters is extensive, especially the aunts, making it difficult to keep track of them all. Moreover, they are often shallowly drawn. However, this shallowness is not a flaw in the story but rather a fitting portrayal. These are indeed shallow people, lacking depth and clinging to a dying, privileged way of life. Despite numerous potential areas of conflict, very little actually happens. This too is fitting, as these are languid individuals who prefer to leave most of the work to others. Overall, it is a good book, with the Delta vividly depicted, yet it didn't fully engage me.

I have a deep affection for this passage:

"Her nose in the banana skin as in the cup of a lily, she watched the Delta. The land was perfectly flat and level but it shimmered like the wing of a lighted dragonfly. It seemed strummed, as though it were an instrument and something had touched it."

--Eudora Welty

I have never come across a more enchanting description of the Mississippi Delta. Welty's use of language is simply exquisite. Even a mere thank you note penned by her becomes a thing of ineffable beauty and wonder.

Laura McRaven, a nine-year-old girl, is journeying to her dead mother's family in the Mississippi Delta to attend Cousin Dabney's wedding. The book offers a vivid portrayal of a Southern family in the 1920s. The plot is rather straightforward: the Fairchild family converges for the wedding, and each member brings along their dreams, memories, grudges, and scandals.

This simple yet engaging storyline allows the reader to delve into the complex lives and relationships of the characters, experiencing their joys and sorrows, and gaining a deeper understanding of the Southern culture and society during that era.

Delta Wedding is, in numerous aspects, a continuation of Welty's short stories that I recently perused. Set almost entirely in the South, it delves into the lives of characters who question but don't necessarily reject their surroundings. Plot takes a backseat, as it does in this novel. The only hint of a plot is the impending wedding of the second oldest daughter of a large family of eight children living with their parents on the Fairchild cotton plantation in the Mississippi delta. Alongside the parents, there is a diverse array of aunts and uncles living nearby, all eagerly anticipating Dabney's wedding.

The novel commences with motherless eight-year-old Laura from Jackson visiting her cousins and joining in the wedding. Initially, one might assume that this family will be seen through her naive perspective, like a Greek chorus trying to sort out the identities in this delta world, much like the reader. However, the novel veers off and presents a dozen or so "choruses" commenting on Dabney's wedding to Troy, the plantation overseer.
Some, especially several older spinster aunts, are critical, believing Dabney is marrying beneath her. This wedding also reveals other fissures within the family, such as Robbie running away from her husband, Uncle George, convinced he doesn't love her. But rather than this rift widening, she returns to him. Such actions are characteristic of the novel - the family experiences minor disruptions that might upset its equilibrium, but they are always averted. The family is the social structure that holds everything together. Outside events pose threats, as did World War I, which claimed the life of Denis, an uncle everyone admired. This could be why the novel is set in a time period that seemed stable but would ultimately collapse in the 1930s.
A crucial episode in the story, mentioned多次, occurs when a slow local train, nicknamed the "Yellow Dog," nearly runs down George and one of his nieces on a trestle. The train stops in time, and when asked why family members were on the trestle in the first place, George remarks, "Something is always coming, you know that. I don't think it matters so much in the world what." He was referring to the train, but it could just as easily apply to larger events. Significantly, he has left the plantation and lives in Memphis.
Another figure who seems to embody these concerns is the oldest daughter, introspective Shelley, who keeps a diary. One night, ominously, she hears a clawing at the window screen. It is a horned beetle trying to get in. "All at once Shelley is sickeningly afraid of life, life itself, afraid for life." Before this incident, she had surprised Troy in his office one day when he was having trouble with some of the Negro field hands and had pulled a gun from his drawer. The incident is never mentioned again, but the placid pond of the Fairchild plantation is filled with ripples of anxiety that wash over the family.
It's a novel that may often seem to ramble aimlessly, but Welty appears to be giving every family member their moment to speak. Families disintegrate, and this one may be scattering as well, who can say? All but one of the children are younger than Dabney, so it's clear that changes are on the horizon. But that lies in the future, and for now, this family is still holding together.
Once again, one might think Dabney's wedding is a premonition of an ominous future, but in a small twist, nothing comes of it. Far from venturing into the outside world, Dabney makes a safe choice by marrying Troy. True, he may be socially beneath her, but he is a known quantity and allows her to look forward to a secure life close to her family. In this world, a family, despite its flaws, is something of value, especially one that is rooted in a place with tradition and history.

The cover of this edition boldly proclaims that Delta Wedding is “a wonderfully entertaining portrait of an ebullient Southern family and an exquisitely woven celebration of Southern life”. However, that is not the book that I encountered. Somehow, I managed to get my hands on a much darker and more complex novel.

In the Mississippi delta, along the banks of the Yazoo, known as “the river of death”, the Fairchild family resides. Their children believe they were born from a mysterious cotton sack carried on the back of an elderly former slave, and in a sense, they are correct. The Fairchilds are plantation owners who seem to be trapped in an endless cycle of recycling the past. They even claim to communicate with the dead within their decaying, rat-infested family strongholds. They don't truly fear change; instead, they simply pretend it isn't occurring. And their delta wedding is more of a macabre dance than a joyous celebration.

But the remarkable aspect of Delta Wedding is that it can be read in multiple ways. It is an extraordinarily dense and rich book, filled with so many details and events that it is nearly impossible to fully grasp on a single reading. The symbolism is laid on thick, causing you to become suspicious of every artefact and event: the bird in the house, the lost brooch, the Yellow Dog train, the incident on the bridge. What do they all mean? What do they signify?

Yet, Eudora Welty's use of such techniques is highly effective. In fact, the more I reflect on it, the more I come to appreciate it. Delta Wedding is brimming with the power and mystery of storytelling. It is splendidly rich stuff, both haunting and memorable, leaving a lasting impression on the reader.

Not my cup of tea. This simple phrase holds a world of meaning. It implies that something is not to one's taste or preference. It could refer to a particular activity, such as reading a certain type of book or playing a specific sport. Maybe it's a food that doesn't appeal, or a style of music that just doesn't click.

We all have our own unique likes and dislikes, and when something is not our cup of tea, it's perfectly okay to say so. It helps us to define ourselves and to focus on the things that truly bring us joy and fulfillment.

Sometimes, we might try something new and discover that it's not for us. That's part of the learning process. But it's important to remember that just because something isn't our cup of tea doesn't mean it's not valuable or enjoyable for someone else.

So, the next time you come across something that doesn't quite float your boat, don't be afraid to say, "Not my cup of tea." And then, go in search of the things that are.

Quite often when I read novels by the very best authors, I find myself living inside the book.

That is, I feel as if I am a part of the setting, always as an observer—the quintessential fly on the wall—but nonetheless inside the novel's prism.

When I entered the setting of this classic novel by Eudora Welty, I was immersed in chaos, experiencing virtual whiplash.

It's September 1923 in the Mississippi Delta. It's still hot. The air is languid, the mosquitoes are biting, and the silent bayou is teeming with life.

The Fairchild family is preparing for their daughter Dabney's wedding. She's 17 (and not the eldest daughter, which has some eyebrows raised) and is marrying "beneath her," having fallen in love with the cotton plantation's overseer, Troy Flavin.

Her father, Battle, isn't happy about the pending nuptials but is resigned to them. Her mother, Ellen, is pregnant with her ninth child as she manages the ceremony and reception that will take place in their home on their plantation, which is named Shellmound.

The story begins when nine-year-old Laura McRaven, the daughter of Battle's sister, Annie Laurie, who died the previous January, travels from Jackson by train to Fairchilds (yes, the town is named after the family) for the wedding.

But sadly, they tell her she can't be a flower girl because her mother died. Some of the story is seen through Laura's incredulous eyes. She's an only child, who has been dropped into the middle of all this mayhem where everyone knows that when the hall clock strikes two it is really eight.

There is no plot. This is a novel about people, focusing on the many (many!) characters' thoughts, actions, and (sometimes weird) introspections.

Chaos, confusion, and conflict reign throughout the house—there is just so much noise!—and the surrounding area with so many people, including what seems like dozens of Black servants and field hands.

This is a home where the men think they are in charge, but the women are the real rulers.

What is amazing is that Eudora Welty always has control of the story and the characters even though every page is filled with bedlam and pandemonium as she tells this exemplary Southern tale of a boisterous, rowdy family living in a far simpler time.

The detailed descriptions of the setting and the characters bring the story to life, making the reader feel as if they are right there in the midst of the chaos and confusion.

Welty's ability to capture the essence of the South and its people is truly remarkable, and this novel is a must-read for anyone interested in Southern literature or just a good story.

I have delved into a plethora of reviews about this book, and I must admit that I concur with numerous ones - both those that loathed it and those that adored it!

On one hand, it features charming passages that vividly describe scenes and settings. The outdoor descriptions, especially those on the Mississippi Delta, are truly captivating. As a lover of historical fiction, I relished the opportunity to peek behind the curtain and catch a glimpse of the bygone era of the 1920s on the cotton plantations of the deep south. I also felt that Welty skillfully framed the large southern family gatherings and their interactions.

However, I found that there were an overwhelming number of characters to keep track of. Many of them lacked sufficient description to clarify their relationships, such as whether they were family, relatives, neighbors, or indentured servants. There was a distinct lack of character development. Additionally, I struggled to follow some of the conversations as the author did not always make it clear who was speaking, and often, each person did not respond appropriately or seemed to ignore what was said or done.

The story is told from too many unclear viewpoints. At times, we see events through Laura's eyes, at other times through Ellen's, and so on, but this is never clearly established at the beginning of each chapter. It is only gradually pieced together as one reads. It was also challenging to understand the viewpoint towards certain individuals, like those with limited mental capacity, such as Maureen or her mother. Perhaps that was the perception in that particular time and place. The same could be said for the treatment of indentured servants, which was a mix of kindness and harshness.

It was also rather strange how Uncle George was regarded as the Golden Child and Favorite Relative, despite his heinous act of raping a young female stranger in the woods. Overall, it was a difficult and unenjoyable read. Whether it was due to Eudora Welty's distant era and different world (the deep South) or simply because I don't resonate with her writing style, I just don't believe she clearly conveyed the meaning or purpose of this book. While it recounted a large family wedding on a southern plantation, it failed to provide a comprehensive understanding of each family member or what it was like to be a Fairchild living in the city of Fairchilds in Michigan in the 1920s. There are simply too many questions and not enough answers. Sadly, although Eudora Welty is a classic author for many, this book was not to my taste.