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Letters of Flannery O'Connor: The Habit of Being
Flannery O'Connor's warm, funny, and candid letters to old and new friends, literary figures, fellow Southerners, editors, and others offer an illuminating self-portrait of the writer
617 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1979
447 people are currently reading
7453 people want to read
About the author
Flannery O'Connor
220 books5,223 followersCritics note novels
Wise Blood
(1952) and
The Violent Bear It Away
(1960) and short stories, collected in such works as
A Good Man Is Hard to Find
(1955), of American writer Mary Flannery O'Connor for their explorations of religious faith and a spare literary style.
The Georgia state college for women educated O’Connor, who then studied writing at the Iowa writers' workshop and wrote much of Wise Blood at the colony of artists at Yaddo in upstate New York. She lived most of her adult life on Andalusia, ancestral farm of her family outside Milledgeville, Georgia.
O’Connor wrote Everything That Rises Must Converge (1964). When she died at the age of 39 years, America lost one of its most gifted writers at the height of her powers.
Survivors published her essays were published in Mystery and Manners (1969). Her Complete Stories , published posthumously in 1972, won the national book award for that year. Survivors published her letters in The Habit of Being (1979). In 1988, the Library of America published Collected Works of Flannery O'Connor, the first so honored postwar writer.
People in an online poll in 2009 voted her Complete Stories as the best book to win the national book award in the six-decade history of the contest.
The Georgia state college for women educated O’Connor, who then studied writing at the Iowa writers' workshop and wrote much of Wise Blood at the colony of artists at Yaddo in upstate New York. She lived most of her adult life on Andalusia, ancestral farm of her family outside Milledgeville, Georgia.
O’Connor wrote Everything That Rises Must Converge (1964). When she died at the age of 39 years, America lost one of its most gifted writers at the height of her powers.
Survivors published her essays were published in Mystery and Manners (1969). Her Complete Stories , published posthumously in 1972, won the national book award for that year. Survivors published her letters in The Habit of Being (1979). In 1988, the Library of America published Collected Works of Flannery O'Connor, the first so honored postwar writer.
People in an online poll in 2009 voted her Complete Stories as the best book to win the national book award in the six-decade history of the contest.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 213 reviews
November 19, 2015
I did not expect to love this. Up until now I have not loved Flannery O'Connor's writing. Now I love her writing and herself. I have spent almost the entire year reading these letters. At first it was slow going, I pictured myself getting through them quickly and that was not happening.
Eventually reading a few letters a day became a habit for me and now I am forlorn. I have finished my conversations with Flannery. She is silent. Her life was short. Her wit, skill, and friendliness remains.
All there is left for me to do is to reread her stories with fresh eyes. I will now be like one of her friends whom she sent manuscripts to. I will relish reading what she wrote in light of her own thoughts about why she wrote. Never one to navel gaze, her letters are a haven of maturity and common sense.
The letters were pulled together by Robert Fitzgerald's wife Sally. There are almost 600 pages of them. If only there were more.
Thanks, Sally.
I very much enjoyed reading Flannery's take on authors and issues of the times.
Highly recommended for anyone thinking of writing a book or those looking for a mature way of looking at the world. Art is the habit of being.
Eventually reading a few letters a day became a habit for me and now I am forlorn. I have finished my conversations with Flannery. She is silent. Her life was short. Her wit, skill, and friendliness remains.
All there is left for me to do is to reread her stories with fresh eyes. I will now be like one of her friends whom she sent manuscripts to. I will relish reading what she wrote in light of her own thoughts about why she wrote. Never one to navel gaze, her letters are a haven of maturity and common sense.
The letters were pulled together by Robert Fitzgerald's wife Sally. There are almost 600 pages of them. If only there were more.
Thanks, Sally.
I very much enjoyed reading Flannery's take on authors and issues of the times.
Highly recommended for anyone thinking of writing a book or those looking for a mature way of looking at the world. Art is the habit of being.
September 6, 2015
Don't know when I'll send those stories. I've felt too bad to type them.
Flannery O'Connor wrote the last sentence of her last letter on August 3, 1964, six days before the systemic lupus she'd been fighting since her diagnosis in 1951 attacked her immune system and took her life. This makes me wonder what the last sentence I'll ever write is going to be. The prevalence of social media does not bode well for cosmic insight.
O'Connor had returned to Midgeville, Georgia to be cared for by her mother and lived fourteen years after her diagnosis, publishing two novels (Wise Blood and The Violent Bear It Away) and a multitude of short stories, some published posthumously in 1965 in All That Rises Must Converge. A definitive collection, The Complete Stories, was published in 1971.
While O'Connor never wrote a memoir or a book on writing, we do have her letters, selected and edited by Sally Fitzgerald and published in 1979 as The Habit of Being: Letters of Flannery O'Connor. The author reserves much space to discuss her Catholic faith, its role in her work and in critical misreadings of it, as well as describing events such as writing panels, college lectures or fan mail with deadpan wit. O'Connor was much more comfortable around her peafowl or chickens.
On her college education:
I didn't really start to read until I went to Graduate School and then I began to read and write at the same time. When I went to Iowa I had never heard of Faulkner, Kafka, Joyce, much less read them. Then I began to read everything at once, so much so that I didn't have time I suppose to be influenced by any one writer. I read all the Catholic novelists, Mauriac, Bernanos, Bloy, Greene, Waugh; I read all the nuts like Djuna Barnes and Dorothy Richardson and Va. Woolf (unfair to the dear lady of course); I read the best Southern writers like Faulkner and the Tates, K.A. Porter, Eudora Welty and Peter Taylor; read the Russians, not Tolstoy so much but Dostoevsky, Turgenev, Chekhov and Gogol.
On her literary influences (or not):
I became a great admirer of Conrad and have read almost all his fiction. I have totally skipped such people as Deiser, Anderson (except for a few stories) and Thomas Wolfe. I have learned something from Hawthorne, Flaubert, Balzac and something from Kafka, though I have never been able to finish one of his novels. I've read almost all of Henry James--from a sense of High Duty and because when I read James I feel something is happening to me, in slow motion but happening nonetheless. But always the largest thing that looms up is The Humerous Tales of Edgar Allan Poe. I am sure he wrote them all while drunk too.
On the college lecture circuit:
I see that telephone call those Vanderbilt students made has got around. What they wanted was for me to write their paper for them. They asked me such things as "Miss O'Connor, why did they stop at The Tower?"--trying to make something of the word tower. Then they try to make everything a symbol. It kills me. At one place where I talked one of them said,"Miss O'Connor, why was the Misfit's hat black? "Well," I said, "he stold it from a countryman and in Georgia they usually wear black hats." This sounded like a pretty stupid answer to him, but he wasn't through with it. In a few minutes he says, "Miss O'Connor, what is the significance of the Misfit's hat?" "To cover his head," I say. When the session was over they obviously thought I didn't have sense enough to have written the story I wrote.
On movies:
I persuaded my mother this week that she didn't want to go to see The Ten Commandments. Told her she ought to read the book first anyway and presented her with Exodus. Then to salve my guilty conscience I went to see the Three Faces of Eve with her as she don't like to go by herself. First time I had been to the picter show in two or three years. It was not such a bad picture, but I ain't going again for another three years if I can possibly help it.
On writing habits:
I write only about two hours every day because that’s all the energy I have, but I don’t let anything interfere with those two hours, at the same time and the same place. This doesn’t mean I produce much out of the two hours. Sometimes I work for months and have to throw everything away, but I don’t think any of that was time wasted. Something goes on that makes it easier when it does come well. And the fact is if you don’t sit there every day, the day it would come well, you won’t be sitting there.
On writing:
You have to let things in the story do the talking. I mean that, as author, you can't force it and I think you tend to force it in your story, every now and then. The first thing is to see the people at every minute. You get into the old man's mind before you let us know exactly what he looks like. You have got to learn to paint with words. Have the old man there first so the reader can't escape him. This is something that it has taken me a long time to learn. Ford Madox Ford said you couldn't have somebody sell a newspaper in a story unless you said what he looked like. You have to learn to do this unobtrusively of course.
Writing in the 1950s and early '60s, O'Connor's time and place were another world compared with today's. The uneducated black manual laborers who worked for her mother are viewed with a sort of bemused detachment and while O'Connor expresses no racial bigotry, she comfortably quotes the word "nigger" in reference to statements made by others about blacks. The word simply had no derogatory connotations among white people in O'Connor's day. Her devout Catholicism might also raise eyebrows if retweeted today, but is a subject the author is much more comfortable discussing.
Labelled as Southern Gothic, O'Connor's letters make it clear she views her work as trafficking in "Christian realism". She's helped me view the Jesus freaks of my native Texas with less derision and a bit more respect. These are not corrupted souls using faith as a sword, at least in O'Connor's fiction, but are being speared in the side with it. Without seeking to document her culture, her writing does reflect the Dixie South as it was dragged kicking and screaming into the Civil Rights era, with results ranging from the comic to the tragic. Characters are led to an abyss and made to look on the ruin that is their own existence. Her stories, and her short life, haunt me.
Flannery O'Connor wrote the last sentence of her last letter on August 3, 1964, six days before the systemic lupus she'd been fighting since her diagnosis in 1951 attacked her immune system and took her life. This makes me wonder what the last sentence I'll ever write is going to be. The prevalence of social media does not bode well for cosmic insight.
O'Connor had returned to Midgeville, Georgia to be cared for by her mother and lived fourteen years after her diagnosis, publishing two novels (Wise Blood and The Violent Bear It Away) and a multitude of short stories, some published posthumously in 1965 in All That Rises Must Converge. A definitive collection, The Complete Stories, was published in 1971.
While O'Connor never wrote a memoir or a book on writing, we do have her letters, selected and edited by Sally Fitzgerald and published in 1979 as The Habit of Being: Letters of Flannery O'Connor. The author reserves much space to discuss her Catholic faith, its role in her work and in critical misreadings of it, as well as describing events such as writing panels, college lectures or fan mail with deadpan wit. O'Connor was much more comfortable around her peafowl or chickens.
On her college education:
I didn't really start to read until I went to Graduate School and then I began to read and write at the same time. When I went to Iowa I had never heard of Faulkner, Kafka, Joyce, much less read them. Then I began to read everything at once, so much so that I didn't have time I suppose to be influenced by any one writer. I read all the Catholic novelists, Mauriac, Bernanos, Bloy, Greene, Waugh; I read all the nuts like Djuna Barnes and Dorothy Richardson and Va. Woolf (unfair to the dear lady of course); I read the best Southern writers like Faulkner and the Tates, K.A. Porter, Eudora Welty and Peter Taylor; read the Russians, not Tolstoy so much but Dostoevsky, Turgenev, Chekhov and Gogol.
On her literary influences (or not):
I became a great admirer of Conrad and have read almost all his fiction. I have totally skipped such people as Deiser, Anderson (except for a few stories) and Thomas Wolfe. I have learned something from Hawthorne, Flaubert, Balzac and something from Kafka, though I have never been able to finish one of his novels. I've read almost all of Henry James--from a sense of High Duty and because when I read James I feel something is happening to me, in slow motion but happening nonetheless. But always the largest thing that looms up is The Humerous Tales of Edgar Allan Poe. I am sure he wrote them all while drunk too.
On the college lecture circuit:
I see that telephone call those Vanderbilt students made has got around. What they wanted was for me to write their paper for them. They asked me such things as "Miss O'Connor, why did they stop at The Tower?"--trying to make something of the word tower. Then they try to make everything a symbol. It kills me. At one place where I talked one of them said,"Miss O'Connor, why was the Misfit's hat black? "Well," I said, "he stold it from a countryman and in Georgia they usually wear black hats." This sounded like a pretty stupid answer to him, but he wasn't through with it. In a few minutes he says, "Miss O'Connor, what is the significance of the Misfit's hat?" "To cover his head," I say. When the session was over they obviously thought I didn't have sense enough to have written the story I wrote.
On movies:
I persuaded my mother this week that she didn't want to go to see The Ten Commandments. Told her she ought to read the book first anyway and presented her with Exodus. Then to salve my guilty conscience I went to see the Three Faces of Eve with her as she don't like to go by herself. First time I had been to the picter show in two or three years. It was not such a bad picture, but I ain't going again for another three years if I can possibly help it.
On writing habits:
I write only about two hours every day because that’s all the energy I have, but I don’t let anything interfere with those two hours, at the same time and the same place. This doesn’t mean I produce much out of the two hours. Sometimes I work for months and have to throw everything away, but I don’t think any of that was time wasted. Something goes on that makes it easier when it does come well. And the fact is if you don’t sit there every day, the day it would come well, you won’t be sitting there.
On writing:
You have to let things in the story do the talking. I mean that, as author, you can't force it and I think you tend to force it in your story, every now and then. The first thing is to see the people at every minute. You get into the old man's mind before you let us know exactly what he looks like. You have got to learn to paint with words. Have the old man there first so the reader can't escape him. This is something that it has taken me a long time to learn. Ford Madox Ford said you couldn't have somebody sell a newspaper in a story unless you said what he looked like. You have to learn to do this unobtrusively of course.
Writing in the 1950s and early '60s, O'Connor's time and place were another world compared with today's. The uneducated black manual laborers who worked for her mother are viewed with a sort of bemused detachment and while O'Connor expresses no racial bigotry, she comfortably quotes the word "nigger" in reference to statements made by others about blacks. The word simply had no derogatory connotations among white people in O'Connor's day. Her devout Catholicism might also raise eyebrows if retweeted today, but is a subject the author is much more comfortable discussing.
Labelled as Southern Gothic, O'Connor's letters make it clear she views her work as trafficking in "Christian realism". She's helped me view the Jesus freaks of my native Texas with less derision and a bit more respect. These are not corrupted souls using faith as a sword, at least in O'Connor's fiction, but are being speared in the side with it. Without seeking to document her culture, her writing does reflect the Dixie South as it was dragged kicking and screaming into the Civil Rights era, with results ranging from the comic to the tragic. Characters are led to an abyss and made to look on the ruin that is their own existence. Her stories, and her short life, haunt me.
March 8, 2013
This was the book that converted me. I don't like anything else that O'Connor writes, and I never read collections of letters: never did before and never have since. I truly believe that the Holy Spirit led me to this book and allowed my mind and heart to open to conversion.
O'Connor is funny, thoughtful, thought-provoking. This is absolutely one of my favorite books of all time.
O'Connor is funny, thoughtful, thought-provoking. This is absolutely one of my favorite books of all time.
September 29, 2025
Leggere questa raccolta epistolare della O'Connor me l'ha fatta conoscere per la persona che era.
Dev'essere stato un bel peperino senza peli sulla lingua.
«Vengo da una famiglia dove l’unico sentimento rispettabile da mostrare è l’irritazione. In qualcuno questa tendenza provoca orticaria, in altri letteratura, in me l’una e l’altra cosa»
La sua corrispondenza è complessa e, allo stesso tempo, di una normalità disarmante.
Scrive con amici e conoscenti, ma non disdegna suoi lettori e chiunque le scriva una lettera. Credo che sarebbe andata in brodo di giuggiole con i social oggi.
«I miei lettori sono quelli convinti che Dio sia morto. Almeno, io sono consapevole di scrivere per loro.»
Ed è proprio in una di queste ultime persone che trova un'amica, che a noi resta per lo più sconosciuta, nemmeno il suo nome ci dice, solo A.
Con A, ma anche con tutte le sue corrispondenze, parla dei suoi adorati racconti, della politica, la religione, la sua malattia e i suoi amati pennuti.
Già, perché Falnnery alleva galline, fagiani, oche, cigni e i bellissimi pavoni, da qui la copertina che le dedica la Minimun Fax.
Mi piace un sacco quando, parlando di ciò che legge, lo chiama ciarpame.
" Per il resto ho letto Ciarpame con la C maiuscola. Alla fase Ciarpame è seguita la fase Edgar Allan Poe, durata diversi anni e consistita principalmente in un volume dal titolo I racconti umorosi di E.A. Poe"
E tutti i più "grandi" che nemmeno aveva sentito nominare come Faulkner, Kafka, Joyce.
Era una contadinotta colta e le sue parole sgrammaticate la rendono Vera.
Ovviamente, la maggior parte delle sue lettere è incentrata sulla religione e sul suo modo di credere.
Non sono in grado di recensire adeguatamente questa scrittrice, non mi sento all'altezza, ma non per questo smetterò di leggere ciò che ha scritto, magari non capirò esattamente ciò che voleva dire ma, dopo questa conoscenza, penso che il problema non si porrà.
Dev'essere stato un bel peperino senza peli sulla lingua.
«Vengo da una famiglia dove l’unico sentimento rispettabile da mostrare è l’irritazione. In qualcuno questa tendenza provoca orticaria, in altri letteratura, in me l’una e l’altra cosa»
La sua corrispondenza è complessa e, allo stesso tempo, di una normalità disarmante.
Scrive con amici e conoscenti, ma non disdegna suoi lettori e chiunque le scriva una lettera. Credo che sarebbe andata in brodo di giuggiole con i social oggi.
«I miei lettori sono quelli convinti che Dio sia morto. Almeno, io sono consapevole di scrivere per loro.»
Ed è proprio in una di queste ultime persone che trova un'amica, che a noi resta per lo più sconosciuta, nemmeno il suo nome ci dice, solo A.
Con A, ma anche con tutte le sue corrispondenze, parla dei suoi adorati racconti, della politica, la religione, la sua malattia e i suoi amati pennuti.
Già, perché Falnnery alleva galline, fagiani, oche, cigni e i bellissimi pavoni, da qui la copertina che le dedica la Minimun Fax.
Mi piace un sacco quando, parlando di ciò che legge, lo chiama ciarpame.
" Per il resto ho letto Ciarpame con la C maiuscola. Alla fase Ciarpame è seguita la fase Edgar Allan Poe, durata diversi anni e consistita principalmente in un volume dal titolo I racconti umorosi di E.A. Poe"
E tutti i più "grandi" che nemmeno aveva sentito nominare come Faulkner, Kafka, Joyce.
Era una contadinotta colta e le sue parole sgrammaticate la rendono Vera.
Ovviamente, la maggior parte delle sue lettere è incentrata sulla religione e sul suo modo di credere.
Non sono in grado di recensire adeguatamente questa scrittrice, non mi sento all'altezza, ma non per questo smetterò di leggere ciò che ha scritto, magari non capirò esattamente ciò che voleva dire ma, dopo questa conoscenza, penso che il problema non si porrà.
April 26, 2023
Scott and I discussed this on A Good Story is Hard to Find. Original comments and review below.
==========
This is by my bedside and I am really enjoying reading Flannery O'Connor's letters which at this early stage of the book are mostly to her publishers about problems OR to pals about life in general. A definite personality is emerging and I like her.
Update: this is so super-long and I keep comparing it to The Bad Catholic's Guide to Wine, Whiskey and Song (also very long) and wondering why I don't just pick one of them? Answer: both are very different and very good. I am growing to love Flannery more and more and wish I had been able to get one of those letters myself. Also, now that I am further into the book, she is revealing more of the underlying thoughts behind her stories and the underlying Catholic worldview that she writes from (and lived from). Very thought provoking and inspirational.
Finished: I read more and more slowly as I grew close to the end of the book. Her early death seemed so tragic and I dreaded it. Yes, this seems melodramatic but it is how I felt. She was pragmatic, straight forward, brave, and funny. In her letters to her friends I learned a lot about writing, the Catholic faith, and living a full life under difficult circumstances. And when I read that her last letter was found scribbled by hand after her death, I cried. Not a lot, but there were real tears and emotion there. I must say that now, when I get to Heaven (fingers crossed), one of the people I hope to meet is Flannery O'Connor.
==========
This is by my bedside and I am really enjoying reading Flannery O'Connor's letters which at this early stage of the book are mostly to her publishers about problems OR to pals about life in general. A definite personality is emerging and I like her.
Update: this is so super-long and I keep comparing it to The Bad Catholic's Guide to Wine, Whiskey and Song (also very long) and wondering why I don't just pick one of them? Answer: both are very different and very good. I am growing to love Flannery more and more and wish I had been able to get one of those letters myself. Also, now that I am further into the book, she is revealing more of the underlying thoughts behind her stories and the underlying Catholic worldview that she writes from (and lived from). Very thought provoking and inspirational.
Finished: I read more and more slowly as I grew close to the end of the book. Her early death seemed so tragic and I dreaded it. Yes, this seems melodramatic but it is how I felt. She was pragmatic, straight forward, brave, and funny. In her letters to her friends I learned a lot about writing, the Catholic faith, and living a full life under difficult circumstances. And when I read that her last letter was found scribbled by hand after her death, I cried. Not a lot, but there were real tears and emotion there. I must say that now, when I get to Heaven (fingers crossed), one of the people I hope to meet is Flannery O'Connor.
May 7, 2021
Flannery O’Connor – The Habit of Being
"I was enthralled with Flannery O’Connor: her struggle and how she continued in the face of her physical adversity with lupus. And I was just overwhelmed with this book: mostly letters, which tell us what she was doing every day, how she communicated with her editor, how she spent time feeding the chickens. It talked about the organisation of thought, and the organisation of skill and how you pursue it. If you’re an energised person who has a lot of ideas in many directions, you have to be able to harness them; The Habit of Being helped me understand my multifaceted life."
-Judy Collins, 82-year-old US folk singer
Snippet from a letter...
"I hope you don’t have friends who recommend Ayn Rand to you. The fiction of Ayn Rand is as low as you can get re: fiction. I hope you picked it up off the floor of the subway and threw it in the nearest garbage pail. She makes Mickey Spillane look like Dostoevsky."
"I was enthralled with Flannery O’Connor: her struggle and how she continued in the face of her physical adversity with lupus. And I was just overwhelmed with this book: mostly letters, which tell us what she was doing every day, how she communicated with her editor, how she spent time feeding the chickens. It talked about the organisation of thought, and the organisation of skill and how you pursue it. If you’re an energised person who has a lot of ideas in many directions, you have to be able to harness them; The Habit of Being helped me understand my multifaceted life."
-Judy Collins, 82-year-old US folk singer
Snippet from a letter...
"I hope you don’t have friends who recommend Ayn Rand to you. The fiction of Ayn Rand is as low as you can get re: fiction. I hope you picked it up off the floor of the subway and threw it in the nearest garbage pail. She makes Mickey Spillane look like Dostoevsky."
April 2, 2012
This is probably the third time I've read this book. There's something about this woman's humor and vision in the face of her illness that is so strengthening. I like her responses to those who wrote offering to marry her after they heard that she had published "A Good Man is Hard to Find." She makes me laugh so much. Her letters are an open windows to her gritty, gritty, life-loving soul.
April 15, 2019
Per mia madre una persona non è reale finché non mangia, perciò non è tanto convinta che tu esista al pari di noi tutti. La prossima volta potresti rimediare fermandoti abbastanza da assaggiare qualcosa.
Solo di recente ho capito che non si ottiene niente restando alla superficie delle cose, come tutti, l'ho scoperto a mie spese, e soltanto negli ultimi anni grazie, credo, a due cose: la malattia e il successo. Una soltanto non mi sarebbe bastata, ma l'abbinata è risultata vincente. Non sono mai stata altrove che malata.
In un certo senso la malattia è un luogo, più istruttivo di un lungo viaggio in Europa, e un luogo dove non trovi mai compagnia, dove nessuno ti può seguire.
La malattia prima della morte è cosa quanto mai opportuna e chi non ci passa si perde una benedizione del Signore. Quasi altrettanto isola il successo, e niente mette in luce la vanità altrettanto bene. Ma da queste parti la superficie è sempre stata molto piatta. Vengo da una famiglia dove era rispettabile mostrare un unico sentimento: l'irritazione. E' una tendenza che per alcuni sfocia nell'orticaria, per altri nella letteratura, per me in tutt'e due le cose.
Ah ti volevo chiedere: tu il 'National Geographic' lo leggi o lo annusi? Io lo annuso. Da piccola, una cugina mi ha regalato un abbonamento, perché si era accorta che ogni volta che andavo da lei lo divoravo, ma non era tanto un interesse letterario e nemmeno geografico. E' che ha un tipico indimenticabile trascendente apoteotico solennissimo odore. Altro che le normali riviste. Se il 'Time' odorasse come il 'National Geographic' avrebbero un'ottima scusa per stamparlo.
Solo di recente ho capito che non si ottiene niente restando alla superficie delle cose, come tutti, l'ho scoperto a mie spese, e soltanto negli ultimi anni grazie, credo, a due cose: la malattia e il successo. Una soltanto non mi sarebbe bastata, ma l'abbinata è risultata vincente. Non sono mai stata altrove che malata.
In un certo senso la malattia è un luogo, più istruttivo di un lungo viaggio in Europa, e un luogo dove non trovi mai compagnia, dove nessuno ti può seguire.
La malattia prima della morte è cosa quanto mai opportuna e chi non ci passa si perde una benedizione del Signore. Quasi altrettanto isola il successo, e niente mette in luce la vanità altrettanto bene. Ma da queste parti la superficie è sempre stata molto piatta. Vengo da una famiglia dove era rispettabile mostrare un unico sentimento: l'irritazione. E' una tendenza che per alcuni sfocia nell'orticaria, per altri nella letteratura, per me in tutt'e due le cose.
Ah ti volevo chiedere: tu il 'National Geographic' lo leggi o lo annusi? Io lo annuso. Da piccola, una cugina mi ha regalato un abbonamento, perché si era accorta che ogni volta che andavo da lei lo divoravo, ma non era tanto un interesse letterario e nemmeno geografico. E' che ha un tipico indimenticabile trascendente apoteotico solennissimo odore. Altro che le normali riviste. Se il 'Time' odorasse come il 'National Geographic' avrebbero un'ottima scusa per stamparlo.
July 8, 2024
I have read everything Flannery O'Connor wrote. I would recommend reading this book, The Habit of Being, only after you have read most of her stories (or what you want from them). This is the best retrospective/autobiography of her life, so it will be more interesting when you know the stories she writes about writing about!
These are 550+ pages of letters sent by Flannery, but there are none of the letters Flannery received in this book, so we are left with only half of a correspondence. This makes it challenging to read, more so than say Virginia Woolf's love letters to Vita. Flannery also is not the most lyrical or expressive writer so these are not that wonderful to read in and of themselves (there are more poetic collections of letters well under 500 pages long). The high rating represents the fact that anyone who has read this is already an ardent fan of Flannery O'Connor's writing (I am too for everything but her novels).
I would advise reading her short story collections first as they are most accessible and show her most popular work. The first collection made her name, and the second was her final work. If you've not read her before, please know the letters in this book The Habit of Being are mostly focused with the writing of her second novel, The Violent Bear It Away. My experience is that this was by far her least wonderful story, but it took 7 years of her life to write it so the letters dwell on it a lot. The most interesting part of this book is how she signs off some letters under nicknames of her character Tarbury from The Violent Bear It Away, showing an almost method-acting-like approach to determining his character (the last word she ever wrote was "Tarfunk", a nickname for this character she used to sign her last letter).
A better read on her approach to writing is her essay collection 'Mystery & Manners', and a better read on her views on God are in her 'Prayer Journal'.
I think her character is better represented in her essays, but here we see her dry personality too. I honestly don't care much for her lack of sympathy and kindness to people, but her commitment to writing a moral message is very admirable and fascinating. It is a massive shame this unique and incredibly thoughtful and conscientious writer died young, and while they were still writing incredibly good and powerful work, especially in a world where there aren't many popular Catholic or even Christian authors that have managed to break into literary award-winning territory with explicitly theological narratives. She was a cool lady, and still is. RIP Flannery O'Connor.
These are 550+ pages of letters sent by Flannery, but there are none of the letters Flannery received in this book, so we are left with only half of a correspondence. This makes it challenging to read, more so than say Virginia Woolf's love letters to Vita. Flannery also is not the most lyrical or expressive writer so these are not that wonderful to read in and of themselves (there are more poetic collections of letters well under 500 pages long). The high rating represents the fact that anyone who has read this is already an ardent fan of Flannery O'Connor's writing (I am too for everything but her novels).
I would advise reading her short story collections first as they are most accessible and show her most popular work. The first collection made her name, and the second was her final work. If you've not read her before, please know the letters in this book The Habit of Being are mostly focused with the writing of her second novel, The Violent Bear It Away. My experience is that this was by far her least wonderful story, but it took 7 years of her life to write it so the letters dwell on it a lot. The most interesting part of this book is how she signs off some letters under nicknames of her character Tarbury from The Violent Bear It Away, showing an almost method-acting-like approach to determining his character (the last word she ever wrote was "Tarfunk", a nickname for this character she used to sign her last letter).
A better read on her approach to writing is her essay collection 'Mystery & Manners', and a better read on her views on God are in her 'Prayer Journal'.
I think her character is better represented in her essays, but here we see her dry personality too. I honestly don't care much for her lack of sympathy and kindness to people, but her commitment to writing a moral message is very admirable and fascinating. It is a massive shame this unique and incredibly thoughtful and conscientious writer died young, and while they were still writing incredibly good and powerful work, especially in a world where there aren't many popular Catholic or even Christian authors that have managed to break into literary award-winning territory with explicitly theological narratives. She was a cool lady, and still is. RIP Flannery O'Connor.
March 25, 2020
I read this book from cover to cover around 25 years ago, and have frequently pulled it off the shelf to read bits and pieces since then. About two weeks ago, I decided to read the entire thing again.
I was reminded that here, more than in any other of her writing, is where a reader can really get a sense of who Flannery O'Connor was. She was one of the best fiction writers our country has ever produced, but her strange, intense novels and stories, while rooted in her strong Catholic faith, don't reveal much about her as a person. These letters do. They show her to be intellectual, funny, practical, and uncompromising about her writing from the beginning.
The early letters, concerning her first novel, Wise Blood, are fascinating. She knew that she was writing a strange book that would be misunderstood by many people, but she obviously knew the gift she had, and steadfastly rebuffed those who would have her turn the book into a conventional novel. On the other hand, to the end of her life she had writers and critics who understood her read everything she wrote before publication, and humbly revised her work when she saw that their suggestions were right.
I will admit that on this reading I skimmed some of her letters that delved heavily into theological arguments. Theology was central to her work, of course, but at times I felt as if I was getting too much information about how the sausage was made. Others will feel differently, of course. And 40 years after the book came out, it's easy to have some reservations about the selection of letters chosen for publication. The editor, Sally Fitzgerald, was one of O'Connor's closest friends, and one senses that much of what is not included was left out to protect Flannery, her family, and correspondents who were living at the time. I would have given up some of the many letters to the anonymous "A" (who we now know was her friend Betty Hester) in favor of some (any!) letters by O'Connor to her mother, or to the textbook salesman she dated for a short period, and who apparently inspired (in part) the short story "Good Country People," which features a diabolical Bible salesman.
But qualms aside, almost anyone will finish this book "knowing" Flannery O'Connor, at least a little bit. I'm particularly fond of the letters to Maryat Lee, the playwright with whom Flannery had a strong connection, despite their differences - Lee was as unconventional as O'Connor was orthodox. These letters are teasing and funny, full of inside jokes. Some excerpts:
"We are about to elect us a governor. We have a choice of three segregationists: 1) the present lieutenant governor whose only visible merit is good looks, 2) a hillbilly singer, Leroy the Boy Abernathy, and 3) a rabid preacher, who claims to be backed by the Bible. You live in the wrong place, girl, but I done told you that before."
"I ain't forgot you, you just have too damn many places of residence. Do I send the products of my teeming intelligence to Chester and them set for three weeks getting cool whilst you are flim-flamming about in New York, or do I want to send same to New York while you are pickling cucumbers in Chester?... My chicken feed bill this month was $9.95. I must get back to imminent duties of which you are not one."
(Discussing Flannery's story "Revelation," perhaps her masterpiece): "Sure you are right. She (character Ruby Turpin) gets the vision. Wouldn't have been any point in that story if she hadn't. I like Mrs. Turpin as well as Mary Grace. You got to be a very big woman to shout at the Lord across a hogpen. She's a country female Jacob."
"That child in that picture is you all right. I'd have knowed you right off. Very happy-looking child. It's fortunate we didn't get together at that age. We would have blown something up. I would have found the matches and let you light the fuse."
I was reminded that here, more than in any other of her writing, is where a reader can really get a sense of who Flannery O'Connor was. She was one of the best fiction writers our country has ever produced, but her strange, intense novels and stories, while rooted in her strong Catholic faith, don't reveal much about her as a person. These letters do. They show her to be intellectual, funny, practical, and uncompromising about her writing from the beginning.
The early letters, concerning her first novel, Wise Blood, are fascinating. She knew that she was writing a strange book that would be misunderstood by many people, but she obviously knew the gift she had, and steadfastly rebuffed those who would have her turn the book into a conventional novel. On the other hand, to the end of her life she had writers and critics who understood her read everything she wrote before publication, and humbly revised her work when she saw that their suggestions were right.
I will admit that on this reading I skimmed some of her letters that delved heavily into theological arguments. Theology was central to her work, of course, but at times I felt as if I was getting too much information about how the sausage was made. Others will feel differently, of course. And 40 years after the book came out, it's easy to have some reservations about the selection of letters chosen for publication. The editor, Sally Fitzgerald, was one of O'Connor's closest friends, and one senses that much of what is not included was left out to protect Flannery, her family, and correspondents who were living at the time. I would have given up some of the many letters to the anonymous "A" (who we now know was her friend Betty Hester) in favor of some (any!) letters by O'Connor to her mother, or to the textbook salesman she dated for a short period, and who apparently inspired (in part) the short story "Good Country People," which features a diabolical Bible salesman.
But qualms aside, almost anyone will finish this book "knowing" Flannery O'Connor, at least a little bit. I'm particularly fond of the letters to Maryat Lee, the playwright with whom Flannery had a strong connection, despite their differences - Lee was as unconventional as O'Connor was orthodox. These letters are teasing and funny, full of inside jokes. Some excerpts:
"We are about to elect us a governor. We have a choice of three segregationists: 1) the present lieutenant governor whose only visible merit is good looks, 2) a hillbilly singer, Leroy the Boy Abernathy, and 3) a rabid preacher, who claims to be backed by the Bible. You live in the wrong place, girl, but I done told you that before."
"I ain't forgot you, you just have too damn many places of residence. Do I send the products of my teeming intelligence to Chester and them set for three weeks getting cool whilst you are flim-flamming about in New York, or do I want to send same to New York while you are pickling cucumbers in Chester?... My chicken feed bill this month was $9.95. I must get back to imminent duties of which you are not one."
(Discussing Flannery's story "Revelation," perhaps her masterpiece): "Sure you are right. She (character Ruby Turpin) gets the vision. Wouldn't have been any point in that story if she hadn't. I like Mrs. Turpin as well as Mary Grace. You got to be a very big woman to shout at the Lord across a hogpen. She's a country female Jacob."
"That child in that picture is you all right. I'd have knowed you right off. Very happy-looking child. It's fortunate we didn't get together at that age. We would have blown something up. I would have found the matches and let you light the fuse."
August 31, 2016
Cara Annie, è così che voglio chiamarti anche se tu non mi conosci, ma io adesso penso di conoscerti bene, di comprenderti. Nelle tue lettere ho sentito la tua età avanzare e la tua consapevolezza farsi più forte; sei passata dall'essere una ragazza saccente che ha un'opinione su tutto, a diventare una donna che si è adeguata ai tempi e alla malattia senza mai perdere di integrità. Non posso dire di più su di te se non che ti capisco quando dici che scrivi non per espiare, ma perché lo sai fare bene, (più che bene direi!) capisco che la scrittura è stata la tua potenza contro gli impedimenti che ti hanno indisposta, come la malattia... non ti incontrerò mai e forse è meglio così, l'immagine di te riesce più chiara nello scritto, sei vera, ironica e polemica; ma quanto sarebbe bello vedere quei tuoi splendidi pavoni e tutti i pennuti scorrazzare liberi nella tua casa Andalusia!!
Continuerò a leggere i tuoi racconti con una visione più chiara dell'importanza che il tuo lavoro ha avuto nella tua breve vita.
Continuerò a leggere i tuoi racconti con una visione più chiara dell'importanza che il tuo lavoro ha avuto nella tua breve vita.
January 10, 2009
I like how the singular Ms. Mary Flannery O'Connor signs off:
I hope you are finished with the grip and feel well again.
I didn’t get any Guggenheim.
Let me hear how you do.
They look like domesticated vultures.
My momma sends hers for the season..
Hey nonny nonny and ha hah ha…
No great hardship.
I am going to be the World Authority on Peafowl, and I hope to be offered a chair some day at the Chicken College.
I don’t make no plans.
I manage to pray but am a very sloppy faster.
My word.
This refers to the fact that I have been painting with a palette knife because I don’t like to wash the brushes.
He is not going to be a Catholic or anything — he just likes getting free things in the mail.
He has eaten two hot cigarets so far.
We have a girls’ college here too but the lacy atmosphere is fortunately destroyed by a reformatory, an insane asylum, and a military school.
Regards to the Oddisey & yr. children.
At least I don’t live in the Okefenokee Swamp.
I hope you are finished with the grip and feel well again.
I didn’t get any Guggenheim.
Let me hear how you do.
They look like domesticated vultures.
My momma sends hers for the season..
Hey nonny nonny and ha hah ha…
No great hardship.
I am going to be the World Authority on Peafowl, and I hope to be offered a chair some day at the Chicken College.
I don’t make no plans.
I manage to pray but am a very sloppy faster.
My word.
This refers to the fact that I have been painting with a palette knife because I don’t like to wash the brushes.
He is not going to be a Catholic or anything — he just likes getting free things in the mail.
He has eaten two hot cigarets so far.
We have a girls’ college here too but the lacy atmosphere is fortunately destroyed by a reformatory, an insane asylum, and a military school.
Regards to the Oddisey & yr. children.
At least I don’t live in the Okefenokee Swamp.
July 20, 2016
Una raccolta di lettere credo abbia lo scopo di approfondire la conoscenza di uno scrittore. Nel mio caso, per motivi su cui non è il caso di soffermarsi, è stato invece il primo incontro con Flannery O’ Connor. È quindi evidente che ho potuto cogliere solo in parte alcune delle tematiche, intrinsecabilmente legate ai suoi racconti e romanzi. L’ho letto con la consapevolezza di capire solo in parte i suoi discorsi, lasciandomi affascinare dall’ironia e insieme dalla disciplina di questa donna. Cattolica intelligente e disincantata, condizionata da una malattia di cui tuttavia ringrazia Dio perché ritiene che questo “dono” la porti ad avere una visione nuova di sé stessa e del mondo. Grande esperta e docente dei meccanismi della narrazione, la O’Connor è anche consapevole dei suoi limiti. Sa di non essere un’intellettuale, ha problemi con la grammatica, non conosce la musica, svela senza mistificazioni le sue lacune culturali. Le sue lettere sono dirette, pratiche, parlano del suo mondo piccolo (la famiglia, la malattia, i pavoni e i cigni che amava allevare) e del suo mondo grande (i romanzi che devono decantare, le critiche, i caratteri dei personaggi, le interpretazioni dei suoi racconti che lei accoglie quasi sempre con stupore o disinteresse). Le lettere restituiscono un’umanità densa, uno spirito libero, una donna poco incline ai compromessi, umile e superba al tempo stesso. E viene voglia di leggere quello che questa donna ha scritto.
September 18, 2013
"I feel that if I were not a Catholic, I would have no reason to write, no reason to see, no reason ever to feel horrible or even to enjoy anything." (p.114)
"I am largely worried by wingless chickens...I only know I believe in the complete chicken. You think about the complete chicken for a while." (p. 21)
I can hardly begin to write a sufficient review for this marvelous, marvelous volume of Flannery O'Connor's letters. Her wit, faith, tremendous humor, and earthiness continue to reverberate in my head as I pour over the many notable anecdotes from her correspondence. Although she forcefully denies any accusation of being an "intelleckhul," the spirit with which she enjoyed and persevered through reading and writing (not to mention her long illness) paints a portrait of a young woman who was what a true intellectual really ought to be. Perhaps more importantly, these letters provide a window into the tremendous vitality of her friendships, which, aside from writing, were really the center of her life. I think what I loved the most about this read was just how much O'Connor was so much herself-quite sure of herself, inquisitive, unpretentious—yet very self-critical of her writing, often self-depreciating, and on intimate terms with her own humanity. I will surely return to this book again for years to come.
"I am largely worried by wingless chickens...I only know I believe in the complete chicken. You think about the complete chicken for a while." (p. 21)
I can hardly begin to write a sufficient review for this marvelous, marvelous volume of Flannery O'Connor's letters. Her wit, faith, tremendous humor, and earthiness continue to reverberate in my head as I pour over the many notable anecdotes from her correspondence. Although she forcefully denies any accusation of being an "intelleckhul," the spirit with which she enjoyed and persevered through reading and writing (not to mention her long illness) paints a portrait of a young woman who was what a true intellectual really ought to be. Perhaps more importantly, these letters provide a window into the tremendous vitality of her friendships, which, aside from writing, were really the center of her life. I think what I loved the most about this read was just how much O'Connor was so much herself-quite sure of herself, inquisitive, unpretentious—yet very self-critical of her writing, often self-depreciating, and on intimate terms with her own humanity. I will surely return to this book again for years to come.
July 4, 2016
If it were possible to find anything better than Flannery O'Connor's stories, it would be her letters. This collection is a must-read for those who wish to gain a broader understanding of her stories and novels. The letters are also a window into the personal beliefs and fine sense of humor of this amazing writer.
May 10, 2023
This is tied with Brideshead Revisited as my favorite book of all time. What a gift Flannery was - to the Catholic church, to the literary world, and to her friends - and what a gift this collection of letters is to all of us. I feel as if I grew to know her through these letters, which are filled with humor, wisdom, and beautiful testaments to her strong faith. Though I obviously knew the book would end with her death, I found that I was very sad when I got there, almost as though I had lost a friend. I feel as though I want to just continuously read this book a little at a time, over and over, for the rest of my life. Perhaps I will do that, once I've read the other two collections of her letters from more recent years: Good Things Out of Nazareth: The Uncollected Letters of Flannery O'Connor and Friends and The Letters of Flannery O'Connor and Caroline Gordon. Catholics, writers, and Catholic writers, there is no better book for you to own, read, and cherish.
May 4, 2021
Starting this book, I had read a few Flanner O'Connor works, read a wee bit about her, and thought she was rather strange.
I am a complete Flannery O'Connor convert/fangirl. 100%. I love her very, very much.
Her letters are a million percent worth reading, every single page of the 600. I loved every single second of reading it, which is more than I can say for most 600 page books.
The thing is, we have very similar sensibilities: we're cradle Catholics, farm girls, women of strong opinions. We have very similar writing processes, and similar faith-life struggles (her skepticism about Marian apparitions made me smile, because it's so ME). We both love the Eucharist very much.
But she's so much more than that, as well--she's got this fantastic, pithy sense of advice that I absolutely love, and find extraordinarily useful.
I always love books of letters, and this one reminded me of Lewis's collected letters, in the best possible way. If I could only take four books to college, I would take this one, Vol. 3 of Lewis's collected letters, the Bible, and LOTR. No joke.
My only issue is that because of her time and place, she does use the n-word on a regular-ish basis. Which, y'know, is not my favorite.
4.5 stars!
I am a complete Flannery O'Connor convert/fangirl. 100%. I love her very, very much.
Her letters are a million percent worth reading, every single page of the 600. I loved every single second of reading it, which is more than I can say for most 600 page books.
The thing is, we have very similar sensibilities: we're cradle Catholics, farm girls, women of strong opinions. We have very similar writing processes, and similar faith-life struggles (her skepticism about Marian apparitions made me smile, because it's so ME). We both love the Eucharist very much.
But she's so much more than that, as well--she's got this fantastic, pithy sense of advice that I absolutely love, and find extraordinarily useful.
I always love books of letters, and this one reminded me of Lewis's collected letters, in the best possible way. If I could only take four books to college, I would take this one, Vol. 3 of Lewis's collected letters, the Bible, and LOTR. No joke.
My only issue is that because of her time and place, she does use the n-word on a regular-ish basis. Which, y'know, is not my favorite.
4.5 stars!
February 14, 2021
I find Flannery such a fascinating character and her letters none the less so. By the end I felt like I knew her better and I was sad knowing her death and the end of the letters was coming. I am looking forward to re-reading the stories after having a better grasp on her perspective.
She covers so many different topics in here: theology (I had to go read Chesterton’s biography of Aquinas half way through to have a better grasp of him since Flannery mentions Aquinas so often), politics, writing, her stories, birds, the South, etc. I want to read several of the things she recommends to others now. There were a couple of slow sections but also some laugh out loud spots. Definitely worth reading if you enjoy her stories or even if you don’t but you’re curious. She was an amazingly talented writer and an intelligent, no nonsense woman.
She covers so many different topics in here: theology (I had to go read Chesterton’s biography of Aquinas half way through to have a better grasp of him since Flannery mentions Aquinas so often), politics, writing, her stories, birds, the South, etc. I want to read several of the things she recommends to others now. There were a couple of slow sections but also some laugh out loud spots. Definitely worth reading if you enjoy her stories or even if you don’t but you’re curious. She was an amazingly talented writer and an intelligent, no nonsense woman.
November 24, 2008
"I have come to think that the true likeness of Flannery O'Connor will be painted by herself, a self-portrait in words, to be found in her letters," writes Sally Fitzgerald in her introduction to The Habit of Being. This extensive collection of letters provides an invaluable glimpse into O'Connor's world, beginning with her first query letter to her agent in 1948 and ending with her last note of 1964, left on her bedside table. The Habit of Being traces the development of an enigmatic human being and one of the finest Southern writers of the twentieth century.
Recommended by Crystal, Powells.com
Recommended by Crystal, Powells.com
January 4, 2020
It feels unfair to rate a collection of letters as they are so personal and obviously never meant to be read publicly, but this collection is so wonderful and a beautiful insight into the witty, devout, selfless, and self-assured person Flannery O’Connor was. They show her dedication to her work, her faith, and to her friends. At several points I was actually laughing out loud at how funny she was. I really felt like I had lost a friend by the end of her letters at the time of her early death at age 39. This is definitely going to be a beloved book on my bookshelf.
June 6, 2023
Forte a presidiare la solitudine.
Se il fatto che io sia una "celebrità" ti fa sentire stupida, cara mia, come credi che faccia sentire me? È un privilegio comico che condivido con il cavallo di Roy Rogers e con Miss Cocomero 1955.
Se il fatto che io sia una "celebrità" ti fa sentire stupida, cara mia, come credi che faccia sentire me? È un privilegio comico che condivido con il cavallo di Roy Rogers e con Miss Cocomero 1955.
January 2, 2015
Sally Fitzgerald è alta 1 metro e 60 e pesa a dir tanto 43 chili tranne quando è incinta, cioè quasi sempre.
La lettura di un epistolario è forse una pratica che può essere considerata poco interessante, anche quando il suo autore è uno scrittore (o scrittrice, come nel nostro caso). In fondo, si pensa, chi scrive offre il meglio di sé nei racconti, nei romanzi. Le lettere a editor, confidenti, amici o amiche, cosa possono aggiungere alla sua grandezza? Non esiste il rischio di farcelo vedere troppo umano, vale a dire alle prese con le sue debolezze? Le insicurezze e le invidie che da dietro le quinte, animavano da lontano la sua scrittura?
Forse è un rischio reale.
Però qui parliamo di Flannery O’Connor, e del libro “Sola a presidiare la fortezza”, che l’editore Minimum Fax ha provveduto a ristampare, con l’aggiunta di altre lettere inedite rispetto alla vecchia edizione di Einaudi.
Perché vale la pena spendere 12 Euro per poco più di 260 pagine?
Questa scrittrice ha viaggiato molto poco al di fuori degli Stati Uniti: è stata a Roma e a Lourdes (era di forte fede cattolica). Viveva in una fattoria della Georgia che lasciava solo per qualche conferenza, o l’ospedale (morirà a 39 anni). Allevava soprattutto pavoni, veniva respinta all’esame per la licenza di guida, ammirava Cassius Clay, non amava molto la musica classica.
Conduceva una vita che possiamo definire di una banalità sconcertante, eppure nonostante questo (o grazie a questo?), e un paio di romanzi e alcuni racconti, è diventata una delle voci più nitide della letteratura del Novecento statunitense.
Come ci è riuscita?
Quelli erano gli anni degli Stati Uniti trionfanti, e Dio veniva issato a forza sul carro del vincitore (made in the USA). Non importava la segregazione razziale nel Sud, la pena di morte, gli indiani rinchiusi nelle riserve, la miseria, la folle corsa agli armamenti nucleari che inghiottiva (e inghiotte) montagne di denaro.
C’era un sistema economico (ma prima di tutto culturale), che riduceva le persone a consumatori, e che considerava il futuro già scritto e definito. E capace solo di migliorare, purché sotto la bandiera a stelle e strisce.
Cosa fa Flannery? Attacca il modello di sviluppo della propria nazione? Scrive infuocate opere contro il capitalismo statunitense? Abbraccia la contestazione?
Fa qualcosa di peggio.
Innanzitutto si muove su quel campo culturale di cui si fa strame. E propone al palato dei lettori storie di folli, balordi, rigorosamente sudisti. Già questo negli Stati Uniti degli anni Cinquanta è considerato poco patriottico.
Non contenta, rappresenta la vita dei suoi personaggi quando il “mistero” ci entra come un treno a tutto vapore. E niente sarà come prima.
L’epistolario non rappresenta quindi un “dietro le quinte” magari piccante per scovare liti o odii nei confronti di questo o quell’altro autore. È in realtà un’opera che corrobora i racconti e i romanzi di Flannery. Per costei, il mistero ha un nome e cognome “ingombrante” (Gesù Cristo), e l’aspetto paradossale è che sono in pochi a comprenderlo. Perché nelle sue opere non ci sono angeli, preti che scacciano il diavolo, peccatori che si redimono.
Niente di tutto questo, accidenti.
Un’America che “In God We Trust” (come è scritto sulle banconote), fatica a credere che ci siano sulle sue polverose strade dei cialtroni capaci di capire dove sta Dio. Non sta all’ombra del fungo nucleare, ma accanto al balordo che scarica il caricatore della pistola contro la vecchia de “Un brav’uomo è difficile da trovare”.
Nelle sue lettere, Flannery spiega ai suoi corrispondenti il proprio punto di vista, con il piglio di chi vede con sufficiente lucidità dove si sta andando. E sa che il capolinea è un brutto capolinea.
Per questo può apparire saccente, o presuntuosa.
Non era una persona “facile”, non cercava il consenso a tutti i costi, e riusciva a sorridere (o ridere), del male che l’avrebbe uccisa. E se diamo un’occhiata a dove siamo arrivati, ci renderemo conto che aveva ragione su un mucchio di cose.
O su tutto?
Al di là del suo carattere spigoloso, Flannery amava ragionare e dialogare con i suoi lettori. Difendeva il suo punto di vista perché in grado di offrire la chiave di lettura più efficace a proposito della società statunitense. E le lettere mostrano quanto le sue idee fossero chiare. Sempre pronta a difendere il suo “sguardo” sulla realtà, a dispetto dei consigli dell’editor. O a controbattere a certe interpretazioni che tentavano di ricondurre le sue storie a qualcosa di originale e tutto sommato innocuo.
Non voleva essere innocua, o popolare.
L’epistolario di Flannery O’Connor contiene questo e molto di più. È una sorta di salita verso la cima di una montagna, ma ben presto la fatica (ammesso che ci sia), scompare. Lassù sarà possibile spaziare sull’intera opera di questa scrittrice con uno sguardo più consapevole e attento anche a quei dettagli che parevano del tutto marginali. Non c’è nulla di marginale, sembra dire ancora oggi Flannery. È proprio dai margini che arrivano le lezioni più dure e salutari.
La lettura di un epistolario è forse una pratica che può essere considerata poco interessante, anche quando il suo autore è uno scrittore (o scrittrice, come nel nostro caso). In fondo, si pensa, chi scrive offre il meglio di sé nei racconti, nei romanzi. Le lettere a editor, confidenti, amici o amiche, cosa possono aggiungere alla sua grandezza? Non esiste il rischio di farcelo vedere troppo umano, vale a dire alle prese con le sue debolezze? Le insicurezze e le invidie che da dietro le quinte, animavano da lontano la sua scrittura?
Forse è un rischio reale.
Però qui parliamo di Flannery O’Connor, e del libro “Sola a presidiare la fortezza”, che l’editore Minimum Fax ha provveduto a ristampare, con l’aggiunta di altre lettere inedite rispetto alla vecchia edizione di Einaudi.
Perché vale la pena spendere 12 Euro per poco più di 260 pagine?
Questa scrittrice ha viaggiato molto poco al di fuori degli Stati Uniti: è stata a Roma e a Lourdes (era di forte fede cattolica). Viveva in una fattoria della Georgia che lasciava solo per qualche conferenza, o l’ospedale (morirà a 39 anni). Allevava soprattutto pavoni, veniva respinta all’esame per la licenza di guida, ammirava Cassius Clay, non amava molto la musica classica.
Conduceva una vita che possiamo definire di una banalità sconcertante, eppure nonostante questo (o grazie a questo?), e un paio di romanzi e alcuni racconti, è diventata una delle voci più nitide della letteratura del Novecento statunitense.
Come ci è riuscita?
Quelli erano gli anni degli Stati Uniti trionfanti, e Dio veniva issato a forza sul carro del vincitore (made in the USA). Non importava la segregazione razziale nel Sud, la pena di morte, gli indiani rinchiusi nelle riserve, la miseria, la folle corsa agli armamenti nucleari che inghiottiva (e inghiotte) montagne di denaro.
C’era un sistema economico (ma prima di tutto culturale), che riduceva le persone a consumatori, e che considerava il futuro già scritto e definito. E capace solo di migliorare, purché sotto la bandiera a stelle e strisce.
Cosa fa Flannery? Attacca il modello di sviluppo della propria nazione? Scrive infuocate opere contro il capitalismo statunitense? Abbraccia la contestazione?
Fa qualcosa di peggio.
Innanzitutto si muove su quel campo culturale di cui si fa strame. E propone al palato dei lettori storie di folli, balordi, rigorosamente sudisti. Già questo negli Stati Uniti degli anni Cinquanta è considerato poco patriottico.
Non contenta, rappresenta la vita dei suoi personaggi quando il “mistero” ci entra come un treno a tutto vapore. E niente sarà come prima.
L’epistolario non rappresenta quindi un “dietro le quinte” magari piccante per scovare liti o odii nei confronti di questo o quell’altro autore. È in realtà un’opera che corrobora i racconti e i romanzi di Flannery. Per costei, il mistero ha un nome e cognome “ingombrante” (Gesù Cristo), e l’aspetto paradossale è che sono in pochi a comprenderlo. Perché nelle sue opere non ci sono angeli, preti che scacciano il diavolo, peccatori che si redimono.
Niente di tutto questo, accidenti.
Un’America che “In God We Trust” (come è scritto sulle banconote), fatica a credere che ci siano sulle sue polverose strade dei cialtroni capaci di capire dove sta Dio. Non sta all’ombra del fungo nucleare, ma accanto al balordo che scarica il caricatore della pistola contro la vecchia de “Un brav’uomo è difficile da trovare”.
Nelle sue lettere, Flannery spiega ai suoi corrispondenti il proprio punto di vista, con il piglio di chi vede con sufficiente lucidità dove si sta andando. E sa che il capolinea è un brutto capolinea.
Per questo può apparire saccente, o presuntuosa.
Non era una persona “facile”, non cercava il consenso a tutti i costi, e riusciva a sorridere (o ridere), del male che l’avrebbe uccisa. E se diamo un’occhiata a dove siamo arrivati, ci renderemo conto che aveva ragione su un mucchio di cose.
O su tutto?
Al di là del suo carattere spigoloso, Flannery amava ragionare e dialogare con i suoi lettori. Difendeva il suo punto di vista perché in grado di offrire la chiave di lettura più efficace a proposito della società statunitense. E le lettere mostrano quanto le sue idee fossero chiare. Sempre pronta a difendere il suo “sguardo” sulla realtà, a dispetto dei consigli dell’editor. O a controbattere a certe interpretazioni che tentavano di ricondurre le sue storie a qualcosa di originale e tutto sommato innocuo.
Non voleva essere innocua, o popolare.
L’epistolario di Flannery O’Connor contiene questo e molto di più. È una sorta di salita verso la cima di una montagna, ma ben presto la fatica (ammesso che ci sia), scompare. Lassù sarà possibile spaziare sull’intera opera di questa scrittrice con uno sguardo più consapevole e attento anche a quei dettagli che parevano del tutto marginali. Non c’è nulla di marginale, sembra dire ancora oggi Flannery. È proprio dai margini che arrivano le lezioni più dure e salutari.
August 8, 2024
Her letters alone solidify her as a one of the best American authors to live. So many great reflections on writing and faith, all written in her wry, witty style.
March 2, 2010
I have been taught by those older and wiser that I should continually educate myself towards an understanding and appreciation of excellence. This means that my personal preference is what I like without trying, and what is excellent is sometimes what I must learn to like. So, reading is like food. Stick with a lifetime of twinkies and all you get is bad health and a rotten brain! Teach yourself to like excellent reading, just like you teach yourself to like excellent food (which for me is a steak!), and you'll end up learning to like what is excellent.
So in my attempt to educate my personal preferences towards excellence, I am trying to read and understand Flannery O'Connor. I have been told by those who are older and wiser that her writing is worthwhile and excellent, but that it was also difficult. I read "Wise Blood" several years ago and really disliked it. REALLY disliked it. I can vouch for the reading being difficult. A fellow Goodreads friend starting reading "Letters of Flannery O'Connor: The Habit of Being" and I was encouraged to pick it up and read it as well. Perhaps letters written by Flannery to her friends would help me understand and appreciate her short stories and novels. So that was the goal.
This book contains a collection of letters written by Flannery O'Connor from 1948 up to a few days before her death in 1964. They are compiled by Sally Fitzgerald, wife of Robert Fitzgerald, both of whom were good friends to Flannery. Robert Fitzgerald's translations of ancient Greek and Latin became standard works for generations of scholars and students. (WOW!) Flannery lived with the Fitzgerald's for several years before the onset of her lupus.
I found the letters to be vastly helpful in understanding her as a person and what she writes about and why. I discovered that I probably would have liked Flannery as a person. She had a hilarious wit and a way of describing the mundane in ways that make you laugh out loud. She is honest about her writing and answers honest questions honestly. Many of her friendships began when someone wrote to ask a question, and Flannery took the time to answer them.
So I liked this book. (Hmmm... is that my personal taste being educated here?? ) She discusses all of her writings (stories and books) at length, so I feel I have a bit of a clue now to understanding them. While I was finishing up this book, I started reading some of her short stories from "The Complete Stories". Do I like her writing now? No, not really. It remains difficult reading, and often times unpleasant reading, although I understand the point of it better now. So at this point perhaps that's a step in the right direction?
A couple of interesting and funny items from the book--
Flannery wrote a short story called "A Good Man is Hard to Find". After it is published, Flannery begins receiving letters almost in the vein of responses to a personal ad! She says "a good man is hard to find"? Well they are writing to let her know that they (the good men) are out there and eager to meet her!
Flannery's mother also sounds like someone I would have enjoyed knowing. At one point she asks Flannery about Kafka, who is he and what has he written, because some of her friends had heard of him and she wants to give them some information about him. Flannery explains that he wrote "Metamorphosis". Flannery's mother asks, "what is that about?" To which Flannery answers, "A man is transformed into a cockroach." The mother replies, "I can't tell people that!"
So in my attempt to educate my personal preferences towards excellence, I am trying to read and understand Flannery O'Connor. I have been told by those who are older and wiser that her writing is worthwhile and excellent, but that it was also difficult. I read "Wise Blood" several years ago and really disliked it. REALLY disliked it. I can vouch for the reading being difficult. A fellow Goodreads friend starting reading "Letters of Flannery O'Connor: The Habit of Being" and I was encouraged to pick it up and read it as well. Perhaps letters written by Flannery to her friends would help me understand and appreciate her short stories and novels. So that was the goal.
This book contains a collection of letters written by Flannery O'Connor from 1948 up to a few days before her death in 1964. They are compiled by Sally Fitzgerald, wife of Robert Fitzgerald, both of whom were good friends to Flannery. Robert Fitzgerald's translations of ancient Greek and Latin became standard works for generations of scholars and students. (WOW!) Flannery lived with the Fitzgerald's for several years before the onset of her lupus.
I found the letters to be vastly helpful in understanding her as a person and what she writes about and why. I discovered that I probably would have liked Flannery as a person. She had a hilarious wit and a way of describing the mundane in ways that make you laugh out loud. She is honest about her writing and answers honest questions honestly. Many of her friendships began when someone wrote to ask a question, and Flannery took the time to answer them.
So I liked this book. (Hmmm... is that my personal taste being educated here?? ) She discusses all of her writings (stories and books) at length, so I feel I have a bit of a clue now to understanding them. While I was finishing up this book, I started reading some of her short stories from "The Complete Stories". Do I like her writing now? No, not really. It remains difficult reading, and often times unpleasant reading, although I understand the point of it better now. So at this point perhaps that's a step in the right direction?
A couple of interesting and funny items from the book--
Flannery wrote a short story called "A Good Man is Hard to Find". After it is published, Flannery begins receiving letters almost in the vein of responses to a personal ad! She says "a good man is hard to find"? Well they are writing to let her know that they (the good men) are out there and eager to meet her!
Flannery's mother also sounds like someone I would have enjoyed knowing. At one point she asks Flannery about Kafka, who is he and what has he written, because some of her friends had heard of him and she wants to give them some information about him. Flannery explains that he wrote "Metamorphosis". Flannery's mother asks, "what is that about?" To which Flannery answers, "A man is transformed into a cockroach." The mother replies, "I can't tell people that!"
August 21, 2013
Love, love, love Mary Flannery O'Connor!
I hope to worship God in the New Jerusalem with her. I wish she hadn't had to go through suffering to get there, though. I wish none of us did. But Adam and Eve tripped on a snake with a lie in its fangs.
She was beautiful, though, really beautiful.
I love this quote about her faith, "Picture me with my ground teeth stalking joy--fully armed too as it's a highly dangerous quest."
I love her funnyness, "At Emory they had a list of questions for me to answer and the first one was: Do you write from imagination or experience? My inclination at such a point is always to get deathly stupid and say, 'Ah jus writes.'"
"Her letters to me get less and less cordial and I get the idea that by now she is convinced I am a moron. I am convinced of it too so she ain't by herself."
She wrote by smell, "But I have no critical sense. I write entirely by smell as it were and criticize the same."
She loved Jesus, "The introduction is about the things that hold us fast in Christ when Christ is taken to be divine. It is worthless if it is not true."
Or how 'bout this quote on her difference of writing style with Graham Greene, "...there is a difference of fiction certainly and probably a difference of theological emphasis as well. If Greene created an old lady, she would be sour through and through and if you dropped her, she would break, but if you dropped my old lady, she'd bounce back at you, screaming 'Jesus loves me!' I think the basis of the way I see is comic regardless of what I do with it..."
I wish I could have met her.
Note: She does seem to have been (cliche) somewhat of a product of her time and place (as we all are to one degree or another)... she didn't seem to grasp, with her whole heart, the importance of reconciliation within and without the body of Christ as it has to do with peoples from different ethnicities/races (i.e. between white and black, specifically). It just feels like she hadn't been struck by the cross enough in this area of her heart as in other places of her heart. Nevertheless, she was definitely no lover of the klan or of those who treated others as less than human. She certainly seemed to agree that grace was the only thing that could bring true reconciliation, unfortunately (at least in these letters) she seems not to have been as concerned with it as she should have been (as we should be). Not that we have to be engaged in it full time, but that it needs to matter. I could be wrong though, about how she felt and what she believed in her heart.
I hope to worship God in the New Jerusalem with her. I wish she hadn't had to go through suffering to get there, though. I wish none of us did. But Adam and Eve tripped on a snake with a lie in its fangs.
She was beautiful, though, really beautiful.
I love this quote about her faith, "Picture me with my ground teeth stalking joy--fully armed too as it's a highly dangerous quest."
I love her funnyness, "At Emory they had a list of questions for me to answer and the first one was: Do you write from imagination or experience? My inclination at such a point is always to get deathly stupid and say, 'Ah jus writes.'"
"Her letters to me get less and less cordial and I get the idea that by now she is convinced I am a moron. I am convinced of it too so she ain't by herself."
She wrote by smell, "But I have no critical sense. I write entirely by smell as it were and criticize the same."
She loved Jesus, "The introduction is about the things that hold us fast in Christ when Christ is taken to be divine. It is worthless if it is not true."
Or how 'bout this quote on her difference of writing style with Graham Greene, "...there is a difference of fiction certainly and probably a difference of theological emphasis as well. If Greene created an old lady, she would be sour through and through and if you dropped her, she would break, but if you dropped my old lady, she'd bounce back at you, screaming 'Jesus loves me!' I think the basis of the way I see is comic regardless of what I do with it..."
I wish I could have met her.
Note: She does seem to have been (cliche) somewhat of a product of her time and place (as we all are to one degree or another)... she didn't seem to grasp, with her whole heart, the importance of reconciliation within and without the body of Christ as it has to do with peoples from different ethnicities/races (i.e. between white and black, specifically). It just feels like she hadn't been struck by the cross enough in this area of her heart as in other places of her heart. Nevertheless, she was definitely no lover of the klan or of those who treated others as less than human. She certainly seemed to agree that grace was the only thing that could bring true reconciliation, unfortunately (at least in these letters) she seems not to have been as concerned with it as she should have been (as we should be). Not that we have to be engaged in it full time, but that it needs to matter. I could be wrong though, about how she felt and what she believed in her heart.
May 20, 2021
I have just finished reading The Habit of Being and I feel as though I have just said goodbye to a dear friend. I have read Flannery's short stories here and there, but I know now that they were wasted on me. I either was not mature enough as a reader to appreciate them, or I was not ready to receive them. After reading this collection of letters, however, I intend to go back and read everything. Flannery's letters are funny, intimate, and brilliant. She recreates her life and her world in such a way that even though I am from Georgia, I feel like I've been away visiting somewhere...a place that now exists only in these pages.
Trigger warning for racist comments and use of the N-word. Flannery was a Southern woman in the mid twentieth century and spoke like one. Believe me, this hurt my heart. But, if I took only one thing away from her letters, it was that she was a true friend. She cared for her friends and wrote them for years. She was always interested in their lives and concerned for their well being. I'd like to think that if Flannery had made a friend of color, she would have changed her views. I like what Alice Walker said about Flannery and other twentieth century writers in the PBS documentary about Flannery (an excellent documentary if you haven't seen it). Alice Walker said that it wasn't fair to blame writers for the ideology they were born into because they couldn't have known any better. She said when we do this, "the writers get sold down the river too". I agree. At least, I'm willing to give this writer the benefit of the doubt.
Just an FYI, I recently listened to Stephen Colbert read "The Enduring Chill" and I highly recommend it. Colbert's narration as well as the power of Flannery's words took my breath away. Also, I recommend listening to Flannery read "A Good Man Is Hard to Find". Absolutely no one can read it like her. You can find both of these on You Tube.
Trigger warning for racist comments and use of the N-word. Flannery was a Southern woman in the mid twentieth century and spoke like one. Believe me, this hurt my heart. But, if I took only one thing away from her letters, it was that she was a true friend. She cared for her friends and wrote them for years. She was always interested in their lives and concerned for their well being. I'd like to think that if Flannery had made a friend of color, she would have changed her views. I like what Alice Walker said about Flannery and other twentieth century writers in the PBS documentary about Flannery (an excellent documentary if you haven't seen it). Alice Walker said that it wasn't fair to blame writers for the ideology they were born into because they couldn't have known any better. She said when we do this, "the writers get sold down the river too". I agree. At least, I'm willing to give this writer the benefit of the doubt.
Just an FYI, I recently listened to Stephen Colbert read "The Enduring Chill" and I highly recommend it. Colbert's narration as well as the power of Flannery's words took my breath away. Also, I recommend listening to Flannery read "A Good Man Is Hard to Find". Absolutely no one can read it like her. You can find both of these on You Tube.
July 25, 2011
I came to this book through a general knowledge of Flannery O'Connor and attempts over the years to read her fiction. Reading someone's letters is like receiving an invitation into their entire world, especially geography/setting, their relationships (the other correspondents end up being as central as the writer), and the daily details of one's life (which I always find to be the most interesting part of the correspondence).
Flannery O'Connor suffered from lupus and was mostly confined to live her life with her mother on their Georgia farm. She talks about her illness here and there, never really complains or whines about it, and even says at one point that her literary success is possible because of her situation.
She corresponded with (and entertained at her farm) many famous literary figures of the time and even snarked at a few (she is not fond of Carson McCullers for example), and she writes often of her affinity for her flock of peacocks, ducks, and geese which she tended with great fondness. She is delightfully quotable.
The funny thing about reading these letters is I appreciate Flannery O'Connor as a writer/artist while not really enjoying her stories. I've tried many times to read her fiction and have only managed to read A Good Man is Hard to Find more than once and every time it's startling, shocking even. I know the stories mean more than just gratuitous violence, and involve layers of her faith, but I have a hard time with it.
Flannery O'Connor suffered from lupus and was mostly confined to live her life with her mother on their Georgia farm. She talks about her illness here and there, never really complains or whines about it, and even says at one point that her literary success is possible because of her situation.
She corresponded with (and entertained at her farm) many famous literary figures of the time and even snarked at a few (she is not fond of Carson McCullers for example), and she writes often of her affinity for her flock of peacocks, ducks, and geese which she tended with great fondness. She is delightfully quotable.
The funny thing about reading these letters is I appreciate Flannery O'Connor as a writer/artist while not really enjoying her stories. I've tried many times to read her fiction and have only managed to read A Good Man is Hard to Find more than once and every time it's startling, shocking even. I know the stories mean more than just gratuitous violence, and involve layers of her faith, but I have a hard time with it.
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April 29, 2018It took a year and a half of dipping in and out for me to finish this. What an exhilarating trip through the life and mind of a writer..."one damm book after another"...with peacocks.
"I am about convinced now that my novel is finished. It has reached the stage where it is a pleasure for me to type it so I presume it is done. I sit all day typing and grinning like the Cheshire cat. There is nothing like being please with your own efforts - and this is the best stage - before it is published and begins to be misunderstood."
I was amused that she wasn't a good godparent: "We don't make at all good godparents. I always forget the Fitzgerald's birthday that I am godmother to and I can't for the life of me recall the first name of the other child I am godmother of." This comforts me, because I too am a bad godparent, and I at least have the excuse of being an atheist.
And - fascinating in this day and age of Trumpian calls to crush the free press to read a bit from 1963 about newspaper people: "I think they are the slobber-heartedest lily-mindedest piously conniving cloud in the modern world."
At some point, after reading yet another letter to "A", I had to google and figure out who that might be. Tada! Revealed in the New Yorker: https://www.newyorker.com/books/page-...
"I am about convinced now that my novel is finished. It has reached the stage where it is a pleasure for me to type it so I presume it is done. I sit all day typing and grinning like the Cheshire cat. There is nothing like being please with your own efforts - and this is the best stage - before it is published and begins to be misunderstood."
I was amused that she wasn't a good godparent: "We don't make at all good godparents. I always forget the Fitzgerald's birthday that I am godmother to and I can't for the life of me recall the first name of the other child I am godmother of." This comforts me, because I too am a bad godparent, and I at least have the excuse of being an atheist.
And - fascinating in this day and age of Trumpian calls to crush the free press to read a bit from 1963 about newspaper people: "I think they are the slobber-heartedest lily-mindedest piously conniving cloud in the modern world."
At some point, after reading yet another letter to "A", I had to google and figure out who that might be. Tada! Revealed in the New Yorker: https://www.newyorker.com/books/page-...
November 27, 2018
This is one of those books that I didn’t want to end! I have been reading these letters slowly over the last year and feel so blessed to be able to get a glimpse into this woman’s life. I was rereading some of her short stories (on Audible) and one of my children commented, “that woman must have been strange”. I was able to say, “No, she was not strange. She was an intelligent, funny, insightful woman very committed to her faith and her writings.” It saddens me that she died so young, and it is a testament to her strong faith that her letters were not filled with complaints and bitterness over her disease even as it made life very difficult for her. I am thankful to Sally Fitzgerald for compiling these letters. Through them I learned not just about her as a person, but I gained more insight into her stories as she often referred to them and what she was doing in them. These letters are truly a delight!
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