The Wintering
“When I said I didn’t know how, he said, “Just start I met William Faulkner in——.” All that came out was “Twenty Will Not Come Again.” That seemed all I had to say. It was published in The Atlantic Monthly in May 1980. At the time I was living in Westport, Connecticut. I received a lot of mail on account of the article and remember particularly one letter from Texas. A man wrote that the short piece told him more about Faulkner than a thousand biographies could ever do. I was glad.
In January of... 1950 I stood in a freezing bus station in Memphis, Tennessee, waiting to see William Faulkner for the second time. But would I recognize him? Thirty years have passed as I write this, and I am now the age he was then. While Memphis is my home town, I had never been in one of its bus stations. I was full of awe about seeing him, and full of wonder about why he was coming seventy miles on a bus. I don’t think I stopped to wonder fully why he was coming to see me at all. But our meetings, in our part of the world, were marked from the beginning with the clandestine.MoreLess
In January of... 1950 I stood in a freezing bus station in Memphis, Tennessee, waiting to see William Faulkner for the second time. But would I recognize him? Thirty years have passed as I write this, and I am now the age he was then. While Memphis is my home town, I had never been in one of its bus stations. I was full of awe about seeing him, and full of wonder about why he was coming seventy miles on a bus. I don’t think I stopped to wonder fully why he was coming to see me at all. But our meetings, in our part of the world, were marked from the beginning with the clandestine.MoreLess
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