Southern Lit

From the first issue of The Oxford American, a short story by Barry Hannah.

In honor of Barry Hannah, whose writing appeared in the first issue of The Oxford American and in many subsequent issues of the magazine, we reprint this interview conducted with him just after the publication of his novel Yonder Stands Your Orphan in 2001.

Donald Harington, 1935 to 2009.

The intent of our poll is to stir reflection, discussion—did somebody just say “dissent”?—and reading. By counting the votes of 134 esteemed writers and scholars (and a few oddball editors, publishers, etc.) in a quest to find out what these discerning people consider to be the best works of Southern literature, we hope our poll accomplishes those worthy intentions. For judges, we sought out people who seemed thoughtful and well versed in Southern literature. Here is some information about them.

“I’ll wager a couple of the choices might raise a holler (Does the Sun Belt count as South? Does a Northerner belong here?), but so be it. Literature thrives best when arguments about it cross that line between simmer and boil.” —Matthew Pitt

Despite the fact that he’s published eight novels and four story collections (his first novel, GERONIMO REX, was a National Book Award nominee and his last collection, HIGH LONESOME, a Pulitzer Prize finalist), Barry Hannah remains a cult figure: You’ve either never heard of him, or you can rattle off long passages of his prose and work up a sweat debating whether or not he’s a successor to Faulkner.

In the penultimate chapter of ABSALOM, ABSALOM!, the masterpiece that was selected in THE OA poll as “Best Southern Novel of All Time,” William Faulkner writes of the Harvard dormitory shared by Quentin Compson and his Canadian roommate, Shrevlin McCannon, “There would be no deep breathing tonight.” Ninety-five years later and a thousand miles south, the prediction holds, for here in the prep-school classroom the student who wishes not to be called upon must not breathe.