I love this so much. O’Connor’s stories were one of my first true loves in reading beyond my childhood books and remain brilliant favorites (and I love The Enduring Chill). I had a friend who was a librarian at Georgia College and State University in Milledgeville. Initially, and before the home was open to the public, there was some relationship to the institution. My grandmother and sister and I visited town to see my friend and the O’Connor sites, and through her we were able to tour the house, sit on the porch, and walk the grounds. There was also a display behind glass at the University, that my friend let us into. At that that time, the typewriter, writing desk, and O’Connor’s personal library were there. Perusing her books that she herself had handled…I was awestruck. I’m so glad you had this experience of visiting and hearing so many stories. Also, like you, I struggle to be a “believer,” in any traditional sense, but at the same time “people live on in memory” is not good enough for me. I also love The Smiths and that song! My Dad passed in 2022 and there are times when I feel him, and in a strange way I feel closer to him than I ever did when he was alive. I don’t know what that is. Thank you for this letter and for the pictures!
I love this comment! Wow, that is so cool about getting to go in the house. It's still managed by the college there, and they still have her personal library in their collections just for preservation reasons, along with her other papers. When I found that out I checked to see if I could get an appointment to see it all, but you needed two weeks notice and we were going to Milledgeville much sooner than that. "Awestruck" is the feeling exactly.
My dad died in 2005 and I oddly never felt his presence at all until after my mom died. Now I feel it quite often, and I've been to visit his grave several times, which is also odd because I've also been very much a "the grave is meaningless, the person is not there" kind of person. I also don't know what that is.
A few years back I was driving from Athens to the coast and my route took me through Milledgeville. I saw the sign for Andalusia, did a hasty u-turn and turned in to the drive. There was no one there but me and a docent that day and I, too, was startled and amazed at the way that it seemed that Flannery had just stepped out of the room. My supervisor has a friend/colleague at Milledgeville who oversees the new interpretive center so we had our annual retreat there last year. During a break we walked the grounds and explored the little cabins that were there and walked down to the lake. Her presence is still there, I think.
But my persistent memory of Flannery is that one day while home sick from school in high school, I read a book of her short stories from cover to cover and at the end of the day I wanted to walk into the sea. I think her stories are best taken in small sips, not in one giant gulp. There is a grimness to her stories that I grapple with -- they repel me as much as they pull me in. "A Good Man is Hard to Find" haunts me with its quiet horror and Flannery was excellent at getting to the dark hearts of people. I have met people about whom, after meeting them, I said, "She'd of been a good woman if she'd had somebody to shoot her every minute of her life." That sounds terrible to say, but Flannery often says things for us that we think but don't say.
I love this comment too and the fact that you turned the car around then and there and went in. I can't imagine reading all of her stories at once... that must have been quite an experience. They are definitely stories to be sipped. It reminds me of the time I found a copy of Sartre's NO EXIT on my aunt's bookshelf when I was around 11 or so and read it all in one sitting and it just completely blew my mind in so many ways. There's something incredibly powerful and formative about encountering a piece of great literature before you are really ready for it--not something I'd recommend on the regular, but the handful of times it happened to me it was very memorable, if mildly scarring as well.
"Flannery often says things for us that we think but don't say." Yes, so very much.
I love this so much. O’Connor’s stories were one of my first true loves in reading beyond my childhood books and remain brilliant favorites (and I love The Enduring Chill). I had a friend who was a librarian at Georgia College and State University in Milledgeville. Initially, and before the home was open to the public, there was some relationship to the institution. My grandmother and sister and I visited town to see my friend and the O’Connor sites, and through her we were able to tour the house, sit on the porch, and walk the grounds. There was also a display behind glass at the University, that my friend let us into. At that that time, the typewriter, writing desk, and O’Connor’s personal library were there. Perusing her books that she herself had handled…I was awestruck. I’m so glad you had this experience of visiting and hearing so many stories. Also, like you, I struggle to be a “believer,” in any traditional sense, but at the same time “people live on in memory” is not good enough for me. I also love The Smiths and that song! My Dad passed in 2022 and there are times when I feel him, and in a strange way I feel closer to him than I ever did when he was alive. I don’t know what that is. Thank you for this letter and for the pictures!
I love this comment! Wow, that is so cool about getting to go in the house. It's still managed by the college there, and they still have her personal library in their collections just for preservation reasons, along with her other papers. When I found that out I checked to see if I could get an appointment to see it all, but you needed two weeks notice and we were going to Milledgeville much sooner than that. "Awestruck" is the feeling exactly.
My dad died in 2005 and I oddly never felt his presence at all until after my mom died. Now I feel it quite often, and I've been to visit his grave several times, which is also odd because I've also been very much a "the grave is meaningless, the person is not there" kind of person. I also don't know what that is.
I loved my visit to Savannah in 2019🖖🏻☸️
I didn’t know she had a home in Millegeville
What a wonderful experience! I would love to sit upon that porch with you. ❤️
You'll have to come visit one of these days and we'll do it!
Sounds divine!
A few years back I was driving from Athens to the coast and my route took me through Milledgeville. I saw the sign for Andalusia, did a hasty u-turn and turned in to the drive. There was no one there but me and a docent that day and I, too, was startled and amazed at the way that it seemed that Flannery had just stepped out of the room. My supervisor has a friend/colleague at Milledgeville who oversees the new interpretive center so we had our annual retreat there last year. During a break we walked the grounds and explored the little cabins that were there and walked down to the lake. Her presence is still there, I think.
But my persistent memory of Flannery is that one day while home sick from school in high school, I read a book of her short stories from cover to cover and at the end of the day I wanted to walk into the sea. I think her stories are best taken in small sips, not in one giant gulp. There is a grimness to her stories that I grapple with -- they repel me as much as they pull me in. "A Good Man is Hard to Find" haunts me with its quiet horror and Flannery was excellent at getting to the dark hearts of people. I have met people about whom, after meeting them, I said, "She'd of been a good woman if she'd had somebody to shoot her every minute of her life." That sounds terrible to say, but Flannery often says things for us that we think but don't say.
I love this comment too and the fact that you turned the car around then and there and went in. I can't imagine reading all of her stories at once... that must have been quite an experience. They are definitely stories to be sipped. It reminds me of the time I found a copy of Sartre's NO EXIT on my aunt's bookshelf when I was around 11 or so and read it all in one sitting and it just completely blew my mind in so many ways. There's something incredibly powerful and formative about encountering a piece of great literature before you are really ready for it--not something I'd recommend on the regular, but the handful of times it happened to me it was very memorable, if mildly scarring as well.
"Flannery often says things for us that we think but don't say." Yes, so very much.
I enjoyed this a great deal and put it in my Lynda folder with other of your posts I find well worth rereading.
Omg! You have a Lynda folder! ☺️☺️ Glad you enjoyed it, and thank you as ever for reading.