Having lived for several years in Mississippi and been involved in researching and writing about aspects of its past at different times over the course of my career, I feel like I have earned the right to make some candid judgements about the place. I have grown to be very interested in the writings of those who similarly have a connection to the state and have published their thoughts on its cultural heritage. It is a profoundly interesting place with a profoundly flawed past that, while not in truth all that much different from the heritage of its neighboring states, seems to manifest itself in daily life more than in most locales. Things change slowly everywhere in the South, but in Mississippi, that pace can seem especially sluggish and it, for better or worse (mostly for the worse) has acquired a reputation as a place apart as a result. “There’s America, there’s the South, and then there’s Mississippi,” once noted President Lyndon B. Johnson. That was over five decades, though, at the height of the movement for Civil Rights which highlighted all that was wrong with the state and its intransigence in accepting the future. Certainly much has changed for the better since that time, and as a former resident I can attest that Mississippi is indeed as fully modern as any other state in the region of which it is so prominent a part. Yet its reputation as a different sort of place persists in popular imagination.
In no small part, that fascination is rooted in the state’s robust literary legacy. The way the past lingers in Mississippi has allowed some of the most celebrated literature to come from the state to become a singular lens through which to view the influence of the past on the present in all of America. The writings of William Faulkner and Eudora Welty, for example, are populated by quintessential Mississippians, inextricably tied to settings which can be experienced at least in part still today, but whose stories and experiences are relatable to the nation at large. There is something of a literary industry built upon exploring Mississippi’s peculiarities and the way the past haunts the land. Among the most recent writers to examine how the past looms large in Mississippi today is W. Ralph Eubanks with A Place Like Mississippi: A Journey Through a Real and Imagined Literary Landscape. Eubanks is a Mississippi-born writer who has worked with the Library and Congress and received a Guggenheim Fellowship in recognition for his memoir Ever Is A Long Time: A Journey Into Mississippi’s Dark Past. With A Place Like Mississippi, he undertakes to examine how the landscape itself has been a factor in the creation of Mississippi’s robust literary heritage. In its pages he explores the state’s physical setting and distinct histories region by region to understand the influence that past exerted on the writers that have drawn upon them for inspiration. It seemed like an intriguing concept, so I was eager to listen to an audiobook version when I noticed it listed.
Those familiar with the state will recognize the distinct regions that subdivide the book—the Gulf Coast, the Delta, the northeastern hills, and the unique literary scene in Oxford that came to life in the wake of William Faulkner—as much as they will recognize the writers he discusses. Faulkner, Welty, Willie Morris, Richard Wright, and a host of others, some contemporary and perhaps lesser known to those outside of the region, receive attention. While the focus is clearly on writers who have produced fiction that in some way connects to a special landscape and setting that can be explored in Mississippi today, the grounding in a real past is obvious and well-presented.
Perhaps I should have expected it, but the legacy of racial inequities assumes a prominent place in the author’s analysis. Indeed in some sections it consumes it, transforming the landscapes he discusses into mere backdrops for troubled racial history. Realizing the way an antiquated binary understanding of society manifests itself in Mississippi so clearly still today—white and black during an era in which a multi-cultural and multi-racial society is more the norm—I am well aware that this fact alone is an unfortunate but enduring component of the state’s perception by people across the nation. I found the explanation of that racially-charged past to be repetitive even though eloquently stated in places. More intriguing, and the reason I think the book merits a read for those interested in the Magnolia State and Southern history in general, is Eubanks’s insightful discussion of the nuances in landscape and associated history in a state that is far more varied physically, socially, and economically than most of America realizes. The interplay of place, past, and people in storytelling is compellingly discussed in the book, even if the overarching theme is one that invariably comes back to the separate worlds in which its white and black citizens so long lived. In hindsight, I am not sure the state in both its romance and its reality could be investigated in any other way, though.
JMB