GI John

While Flannery O'Connor was in school at Georgia State College for Women, the Second World War was raging overseas.  Partly because of the presence of the all-female institution, soldiers were a familiar sight on the streets of Milledgeville.  The citizens of this community welcomed them with open arms, especially Flannery's aunts, the Cline sisters.  Whenever any man in uniform would show up at Sacred Heart Catholic Church, he would be invited to the Cline mansion after mass for a family dinner.  One Sunday, a handsome Marine Sergeant named John Sullivan was handed a note by Flannery's Aunt Katie Cline inviting him to be her guest at the Greene Street home for a midday dinner.  Sullivan readily accepted, and it was during this visit that he met Flannery, then in her first year at GSCW.  The two hit it off at once, in part due to their common backgrounds.  Sullivan, an Ohio boy, came from a large Roman Catholic family.  According to Brad Gooch, the two of them "were able to trade funny stories and share suppressed giggles, as he [Sullivan] became a regular visitor, a 'fixture' welcomed by all the aunts and uncles." (Brad Gooch, Flannery: A Life of Flannery O'Connor, p. 100)  Despite their similarities, Flannery and Sullivan were different in some ways.  He was debonair, outgoing, and confident.  She, who was not used to the company of young men, was awkward and painfully shy.  Yet, there was something about Flannery's off-beat humor that attracted the Marine.  The two of them went on long walks and occasionally went to see a movie.  Sullivan even escorted her to a college dance, though he discovered quickly that Flannery had two left feet.  Many years later, Sullivan said that theirs had been "a close comradeship," not a romance.  Nevertheless, as Gooch asserts, "the two played at romance enough to tease a hopeful mother.  Once, as they sat together on the couch in the parlor, Regina called liltingly over the stairwell, 'Mary Flannery wouldn't you and John like to polish the silver?'  After an exchange of amused glances her daughter wickedly answered with a flat, 'No.'"  (Brad Gooch, Flannery: A Life of Flannery O'Connor, p. 100).  Though none of O'Connor's surviving classmates or relatives remembers him, I am inclined to believe that Sullivan was Flannery's first crush.  After he left for training camp in the Pacific war zone, he and Flannery exchanged letters until the time he entered St. Gregory's Seminary in Cincinnati just after the war to study for the priesthood.  The root of Flannery's infatuation with John Sullivan may have been the similarity he bore to her recently deceased father.  Like Ed O'Connor, Sullivan was handsome, occasionally in uniform, and was "both confidant and supporter." (Brad Gooch, Flannery: A Life of Flannery O'Connor, p. 101).  As we observe Memorial Day on Monday, let us pause to remember the thousands of young men, like John Sullivan, who served our country with valor. 
- Mark

Art Imitating Art

For those of you who were unable to be with us Tuesday night for William Walsh's presentation on the making of the movie Wise Blood you missed a real treat.  The program lasted an hour and could have easily gone on twice that long given the interest of the small but enthusiastic audience.  Mr. Walsh has dedicated the last several years of his life to finding out all he can about the making of this John Huston classic.  During that period Mr. Walsh has walked and driven down the streets of Macon (where most of the movie was shot) as well as every other Georgia back road that had any connection to the movie. There is not one locale in Wise Blood that Mr. Walsh has not visited. In addition to providing a lot of inside baseball information on the making of the movie, Mr. Walsh shared pictures that were taken during the filming.  He was kind enough to have a number of these mounted on foam boards and gave them away free of charge to anyone in the audience who wanted one.  In an essay in the 2011 edition of the Flannery O'Connor Review, Mr. Walsh says "Wise Blood (the movie) and Wise Blood (the novel) were never meant to mirror each other - they were designed separately and individually, art influencing art." (Flannery O'Connor Review, vol. 9, 2011, p. 96) And, boy, did they ever do that!  In fact, the story of the making of the movie could be a Flannery O'Connor story by itself.  How many other movies can you name where two of the actors (who were children at the time) went on to become career criminals (one of whom is still in prison serving a life term for homicide)?  Or how many other movies can you name that a professional prostitute was cast in the role of a fictional street walker?  Yes, the story of the making of the movie, Wise Blood, is as twisted and riveting as any of Flannery's stories.  For those interested in learning more about it, I heartily encourage you to read William Walsh's essay in the Flannery O'Connor Review.
- Mark

Genial Joe

On Monday afternoon, an hour before the book-signing reception for At Home with Flannery O'Connor, we had what was certainly the biggest storm here in months. It was raining so hard you couldn't see across the driveway.  By 4:00 things lightened up a bit, and we ended up having a pretty decent turnout for the event.  In addition to the editors, there were others on hand, too, who played a part in the book's creation.  One of these was photographer Joe McTyre.  As I was working in the gift shop, Mr. McTyre came up and shared some of his memories of coming out to Andalusia fifty years ago to photograph Flannery for a feature story in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution's Sunday magazine.  Before continuing, I should mention that this was Mr. McTyre's first visit to the farm since that day in 1962, and I think it's fairly safe to say that he was dazzled by the experience.  While other guests mixed and mingled, Mr. McTyre was walking around enveloped in memories half a century old.  From the gift shop where I was busy selling books, I looked out onto the front yard and saw him, camera around his neck, looking around for the best place to take a picture of the house.  When he came back inside, he and his wife, Judy, stopped by again and chatted with me. He said that the day he came out here to take pictures of the famous author stands out in his memory so clearly.  He spent the whole day at Andalusia taking pictures of Flannery who, he said, was most congenial.  It was only after he and the reporter who accompanied him left that he learned that O'Connor had very little tolerance for news folks and, as a rule, shunned the publicity.  The pictures that Joe McTyre took that day are some of the most familiar to fans of Flannery O'Connor.  There is the famous photo of her standing on the front porch steps that adorns the dust jacket on The Habit of Being.  But Mr. McTyre told me his favorite one of all was the picture he took of Flannery sitting on the living room sofa with her self-portrait.  He said he didn't even pose her for the shot.  He just asked her to sit there and quickly snapped off what turned out to be such a self-revelatory photo.  After Flannery died in 1964, Mr. McTyre sent her mother all the proofs he had taken that day.  Needless to say, Mrs. O'Connor was grateful for his thoughtfulness and generosity. By his own admission, Mr. McTyre will always remember his visit to Andalusia in 1962. I will not soon forget his return visit in 2012.
- Mark                                            

Book Signing at Andalusia

On Monday afternoon we will be hosting a special reception at Andalusia to celebrate the publication of At Home with Flannery O'Connor: An Oral History.  This event runs from 4:00-5:30 and is free and open to the public.  Refreshments will be provided.  Craig Amason and Bruce Gentry, the editors of this handsome volume, will be on hand to sign books along with several of the folks who knew Flannery O'Connor whose reminiscences make up this book.  One of these is Mary Barbara Tate.  Mrs. Tate is a former professor of English at Georgia College, but like a lot of interviewees in the book, Mary Barbara knew Flannery primarily as friend and neighbor, and not so much the icon of American literature.  This comes through in her recollection of seeing Flannery out and about with her mother in downtown Milledgeville: "One of my favorite memories of her is seeing her parked in a car downtown in front of the movie house on a hot summer day, with all the windows rolled down, while her mother did shopping up and down the street, and every passerby stopped to speak to Flannery.  In that day, everybody knew everybody, and she enjoyed chatting with the passers-by.  I saw her often, too, in the restaurant where she ate almost daily, noontime and often in the evening as well, and I even knew which table she would be sitting at, and where she would bring her out-of-town visitors to dine on the delicious food at the Sanford House."  (At Home with Flannery O'Connor: An Oral History, p. 24)  There are many other delightful nuggets in the interview with Mary Barbara Tate, and if this snippet has whetted your appetite for more, please call (478) 454-4029 to place your order.  Signed copies are also available.  Better yet, if you're in the area, come on out to our book signing party Monday.
- Mark

Kindred Spirits

Several weeks ago during Lent, I cited a letter from Flannery O'Connor in which the author tells her friend, Louise Abbot, not to think of faith as being some sort of panacea for all of life's ills.  No, said Flannery.  "What people don't realize is how much religion costs. They think faith is a big electric blanket, when of course it is the cross."  This week, as I was traversing the blogosphere, I came across a similar quote from C.S. Lewis, one that Flannery would have heartily endorsed.   I don't know where this comes from, but since Flannery enjoyed an adult beverage every now and then (visitors to Andalusia can see her martini shaker), she would have certainly given her blessing to these words of Lewis: "I didn't go to religion to make me 'happy.'  I always knew a bottle of Port would do that.  If you want a religion to make you feel really comfortable, I certainly don't recommend Christianity."
- Mark

Credo

Among the most compelling features of the just published, At Home with Flannery O'Connor, are the many anecdotes from O'Connor's friends that have never appeared in print before. In the weeks to come, I plan to share with you some of these chestnuts as a means of encouraging you to add this unique volume to your library. The first interview in the book is with Louise Abbot who shares an interesting encounter she had with Flannery on the front porch at Andalusia. Like O'Connor, Louise Abbot was (in her words) "a fairly good reader." However, after finishing the stories in A Good Man Is Hard to Find, Abbot couldn't figure out whose side the author was on. Many readers find themselves in a similar predicament because O'Connor loves all her fictional characters, even (and perhaps especially) the malevolent. Because of this narrative ambiguity, Mrs. Abbot naively assumed that O'Connor was a "thorough-going agnostic" like herself. As Mrs. Abbot quickly found out, nothing could be further from the truth. From her rocking chair on the front porch, Flannery immediately set her friend straight by reciting to her word for word the Apostles' Creed. Mrs. Abbot confessed that she was so embarrassed that she "stopped rocking and wanted to slink away." And yet, it was this encounter that was the catalyst for Louise Abbot embarking on a "new search" of her own. According to Mrs. Abbot, Flannery never meant to be a missionary, and especially not an apologist for the Catholic Church. O'Connor was happy to supply Abbot with books, but she urged restraint. She kept telling her friend, "You're going to take your time, and you're going to wait. You're going to wait and you're going to be sure that this is what you want to do." O'Connor saw the unhappy results when friends (e.g. Robert Lowell, Betty Hester) jumped into the Church too quickly. While Louise Abbot never joined the Catholic Church, it is undoubtedly true that her spiritual life was enriched immensely by her friendship with Flannery O'Connor.
- Mark

Hot off the Press!

What an exciting week this has been at Andalusia! On Tuesday we got our first shipment of At Home with Flannery O'Connor: An Oral History. Even as I write this post, editors Craig Amason and Bruce Gentry are in the Andalusia dining room signing copies of this much anticipated book. When I started here three years ago, I had heard talk about an oral history project that was in the works. At that point, some tape-recorded interviews had been made of people who knew Flannery O'Connor and had visited her at the fabled farm, and I was told that these interviews would some day - who knew when at that point - be compiled, edited, and made into a book. One of my earliest memories at Andalusia was the day Flannery's cousin, Frances Florencourt, interviewed Mary Barbara Tate, former English professor at Georgia College and one of O'Connor's good friends. After the interview was finished, Miss Florencourt invited me to the back parlor to listen to the finished product along with Mrs. Tate. What a wonderful story-teller Mary Barbara is! I was so charmed by her home-spun tales of visiting the O'Connors at Andalusia, and I promise you will be too when you read her memoirs and those of all the other interviewees in At Home with Flannery O'Connor: An Oral History. The book sells for $19.95 and is available in the Andalusia gift shop or by mail order. Signed copies are also available upon request. Stay tuned for more details about an upcoming book-signing party and reception at Andalusia.
- Mark

Mystery and Grace

One of the writers that Flannery O'Connor was reading at the time of her death was Fyodor Dostoevsky. On this day when many Christians around the world commemorate the crucifixion of Jesus, the following quote from The Brothers Karamazov seems somehow appropriate:
"Love all God's creation, the whole and every grain of sand of it. Love every leaf, every ray of God's light. Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things. Once you perceive it, you will begin to comprehend it better every day. And you will come at last to love the world with an all-embracing love."
- Mark

Nuts for Nillas

Admittedly, Flannery O'Connor had some pretty bizarre tastes when it came to food. She laced her coffee with Coca-Cola and put shredded cheddar cheese on top of oatmeal. When it came to snacking, however, her preferences could be rather commonplace. Her cookie of choice was Nilla Wafers. Sometimes when she was in her bedroom writing, she would have a box of them on the desk near her typewriter. One can picture Flannery munching away on these pleasantly sweet, bland treats as she was hammering out her gritty, witty prose. It's hard to imagine anything less vanilla than her short stories and novels.
- Mark

Update

In my last post I mentioned the release of The Province of Joy: Praying with Flannery O'Connor by Angela Alaimo O'Connell. We received an advance copy of the book this week, and I am pleased to announce that any misgivings I may have had about it vanished when I paged through this handsome volume. It contains writings from the usual suspects (Teilhard, Aquinas, Hopkins) as well as more surprising contributors (Dostoevsky, Weil, Donne). These excerpts along with scripture quotations and prayers that Flannery herself would have said (e.g. Prayer to St. Raphael) form the scaffolding of an abbreviated daily office (morning prayer and evening prayer). Though O'Connor would probably not have used a book such as this - she was happy with her breviary and Bible - I am nevertheless looking forward to reading and praying The Province of Joy. The book sells for $16.99, and we anticipate carrying it in the Andalusia gift shop.
- Mark

Praying with Flannery

We just received some exciting news about a book soon to be released. The Province of Joy is a breviary based on themes in the writings of Flannery O'Connor. This prayer book was compiled and edited by Angela O'Donnell, poet and professor at Fordham University where she teaches English, creative writing, and American Catholic studies. According to her publisher, Paraclete Press:

"The Province of Joy is a book of hours rooted in the rich theological imagination of fiction writer, Flannery O'Connor. A lifelong Catholic devoted to liturgical prayer, O'Connor was also an avid reader and thinker who lived a rich spiritual life. Cutting a broad swath through spiritual and theological texts of every stamp, O'Connor engaged ideas about the nature of prayer and its many forms on a daily basis and often shared them in her correspondence, essays, and stories. This book brings together O'Connor's practice of prayer and the rich spiritual context within which O'Connor lived and out of which she wrote.
O'Donnell organizes this devotional around six themes:

* The False Self and the True Self
* Blindness & Vision
* Limitation & Grace
* The Mystery of the Incarnation
* Revelations & Resurrections
* The Christian Comedy.

In addition, she presents brief reflections suggesting links between the themes, readings, and prayers of the day with O'Connor's fiction. These parallels illustrate some of the ways in which O'Connor's practice of her faith and her art intersect and serve to illuminate one another."

One of the ways that O'Connor practiced her faith was praying daily the Liturgy of the Hours. We know this because one of the three books Flannery kept on her bedside table was a well-worn breviary (a book of psalms, hymns, prayers, and readings recited daily by Catholic clergy and members of certain religious orders). While I am looking forward to reading O'Donnell's book, I wonder what Flannery's reaction would be to breviary coming out based on her writings.
- Mark

The Crux of the Matter

One of the most salient features of Flannery O'Connor's fiction is the centrality of religious themes. However, this is a stumbling block for some folks who otherwise have a great appreciation f0r O'Connor's art. How, they ask, can anyone with a mind as sophisticated as Flannery's believe (in the words of Mark Twain) "something you know ain't true?" One person who may well have wrestled with this question was her good friend, Louise Abbot. In the following excerpts from an undated letter of 1959, O'Connor describes faith as being something more than intellectual assent to a set of propositions. It is, rather, a path of trust that necessarily entails suffering, even suffering with our doubts:
"I think there is no suffering greater than what is caused by the doubts of those who want to believe. I know what torment this is, but I can only see it, in myself anyway, as the process by which faith is deepened. A faith that just accepts is a child's faith and all right for children, but eventually you have to grow religiously as every other way, though some never do.
What people don't realize is how much religion costs. They think faith is a big electric blanket, when of course it is the cross. It is much harder to believe than not to believe. If you feel you can't believe, you must at least do this: keep an open mind. Keep it open toward faith, keep wanting it, keep asking for it, and leave the rest to God. . . ."
"Whatever you do anyway, remember that these things are mysteries and that if they were such that we could understand them, they wouldn't be worth understanding. A God you understood would be less than yourself. . . ."
"I don't set myself up to give spiritual advice but all I would like you to know is that I sympathize and I suffer this way myself. When we get our spiritual house in order, we'll be dead. This goes on. You arrive at enough certainty to be able to make your way, but it is making it in darkness. Don't expect faith to clear things up for you. It is trust, not certainty. . . ." (The Habit of Being pp. 353-54)
- Mark

The Artist's Eye

This beautiful watercolor by Regina Moody depicts a scene that, quite frankly, I had heretofore overlooked. As many times as I've driven past this cast iron water pump over the last two and a half years I didn't really pay any attention to it or the cruciform valve at the top. Leave it to an artist with Ms. Moody's vision to catch my attention with such a richly symbolic scene. With the water tower in the background, the baptismal symbols of water and the cross become even more apparent. One wonders if Flannery was ever struck by this scene as she strolled about the property. I wouldn't be at all surprised if she did. Nor would I be surprised if she saw a connection between this fairly common object so rooted to daily life on the farm and the subject of her own art: grace. I think Flannery would have loved Regina Moody's painting. The way light bathes the scene with an almost mystical aura would have appealed to Flannery, who also uses light to such great effect in her novels and short stories. After seeing Ms. Moody's watercolor, I find myself now often slowing down each time I drive past the water pump. By the way, note cards of Ms. Moody's paintings are available in our gift shop for $2 each or 3 for $5.
- Mark

Hooray for Hollywood!

Hooray indeed that RKO Studios agreed to release Patrick J. O'Connor, one of their rising stars, from a three year studio contract he had signed in 1924. This actor, a recent graduate of the Catholic University of America, was bitten by the theater bug and had gone to Hollywood to seek his fortune. However, after only two years of touring with the RKO Orpheum Circuit, O'Connor felt that God was calling him to the the priesthood. When he told his producer that he needed to go to seminary, the studio reluctantly agreed to discharge him from his contractual obligation. Patrick O'Connor, a cousin of Flannery O'Connor's father, Edward, was born in Savannah in 1902, the youngest of five children. After graduating from seminary, O'Connor was ordained to the priesthood in 1933 and went on to serve in various positions throughout the diocese. In 1936 he was appointed to the faculty of his alma mater, Catholic University, as professor of Sacred Eloquence in its school of theology. In his twenty years at the university it is estimated that he taught more than 3,000 seminarians and lay students. While in Washington, Fr. O'Connor was tapped to be director of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in 1950. He is credited with raising more than $15 million for the construction of the shrine's main building. After leaving the nation's capital, the by-then Monsignor O'Connor went on to have a distinguished career in the archdiocese of Atlanta. In addition to his rather considerable skills as teacher, administrator, and fund-raiser, Msgr. O'Connor is remembered for his preaching eloquence. Perhaps that is why the O'Connor family asked him to offer the benediction when his cousin, Flannery, was laid to rest at Memory Hill Cemetery on August 4, 1964. The prayer that the elegant, white-haired orator said at the graveside included these words: "...and if by reason of sin she may have forfeited eternal life in heaven..." According to Brad Gooch, the prelate "rendered the word 'may' with such lack of conviction as to make the phrase superfluous." (Brad Gooch: Flannery: A Life of Flannery O'Connor; p.370) Msgr. O'Connor retired from active ministry in 1967. He died at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Cancer Home in Atlanta on August 1, 1980 at the age of 78. Those wishing to learn more about the remarkable life and ministry of Monsignor Patrick J. O'Connor are encouraged to check out the article by Rita H. DeLorme in the April 20, 2006 edition of Southern Cross, the newsweekly for the Diocese of Savannah.
- Mark

Remember that you are dust...

With the the start of Lent on Wednesday, many of us have begun a season of fasting and penance where we reflect on our mortality and the fleeting nature of human life. Earlier this week I had a visitor ask me if I thought Flannery's lupus contributed to her rather dark outlook on human nature. It's hard to say to what, if any, extent it did. However, I believe that the diagnosis of the lupus and the disclosure of that diagnosis had much to do with her choice of literary themes. When Flannery came down with the disease she was only 25 years old, an age when most young people (especially these days) still think they're invincible. Death isn't even on the radar. Not so for Flannery O'Connor. Since her father died of lupus nearly a decade earlier, the diagnosis was withheld from her as it was thought at the time to be the kind thing to do. It was during a return trip to Connecticut in June of 1952, however, that her friend Sally Fitzgerald told her the exact nature of her illness (Brad Gooch: Flannery: A Life of Flannery O'Connor, pp. 214-216). Realizing that her life was going to be cut short, Flannery went to work at once writing so many stories where death is a major theme - be it physical death (e.g. Greenleaf), spiritual death (e.g. The Life You Save May Be Your Own), or both (e.g. A View of the Woods). This post is not the place to delve into a topic that could be the subject of a book, but it is clear to me that O'Connor's acute awareness of her impending mortality profoundly affected her writing. Flannery, however, was not one to indulge in a glum moroseness. Instead, her stories reflect an artistic vision that is ultimately comic. She makes us laugh, yes, but also, and more importantly, O'Connor affirms that the human drama is a divine comedy. In the end, as the visionary Julian of Norwich said, "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well."
- Mark

Censor Liborum

As luck would have it, during my retreat at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit last week I met a fellow retreatant who had actually known Fr. Paul Bourne, the monk who was the subject of last week's post. He shared with me some of his memories of Fr. Paul. For example, few knew (including this man) that Fr. Paul was chief censor for the Trappist order in America and was thus responsible for reviewing the manuscripts of writers like Thomas Merton prior to publication. According to one of the monks at Holy Spirit, "Paul Bourne was strict on Merton. He was finicky about any sexual stuff, and said that he had gotten some 'whining and complaining letters' from Merton. He taught us Church history on Tuesday mornings, was a litterateur, not a liberal, and had read all of Flannery's stuff. I think she saw in him a kindred spirit." (Brad Gooch, Flannery: A Life of Flannery O'Connor, p. 327) Fr. Bourne may have been Merton's bete noire, but he was such a humble man that he didn't think his holding such a distinguished position in the order as censor liborum was worth mentioning even to friends. As the above citation makes clear, and what my friend at the monastery reiterated, was Paul Bourne's enthusiasm for Flannery. Though he may have been taciturn by nature, when it came to O'Connor Fr. Paul wasn't a bit shy in telling others about Flannery O'Connor. He thought the girl from Milledgeville was the bomb.
- Mark

Bonsai Master

I'm posting early this week as I will be heading up to Conyers tomorrow for a week-end retreat at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit. Flannery O'Connor and her mother visited this Cistercian monastery just outside Atlanta fairly frequently and became good friends with the abbot, Dom Augustine Moore and many of the monks including Fr. Paul Bourne and Bro. Pius. During the early 1960s Abbot Moore and Fr. Bourne were regular visitors at Andalusia. A spiritual bond must have developed between Flannery and the monks for at the time of her death, Abbot Moore was asked to administer last rites. He and Fr. Bourne were also invited to participate in the funeral mass at Sacred Heart Catholic Church on August 4, 1964. While Flannery enjoyed the friendship of a number of monks at Holy Spirit, she was particularly close to Fr. Bourne (1908-95). According to a monk who knew him, Fr. Bourne "had read all of Flannery's stuff. I think she saw in him a kindred spirit." (Brad Gooch; Flannery: A Life of Flannery O'Connor, p. 327) Besides his friendship with Flannery, Fr. Bourne is remembered as being the monk who started the fabulous bonsai nursery at the monastery. According to the monastery's website:
Cistercian monks of the Monastery of the Holy Spirit have been crafting classic bonsai with an American influence for over thirty-five years. Begun in the mid-1960's by Father Paul Bourne, OCSO (May 2, 1908 - July 10, 1995), the Monastery Greenhouse became one of the first nurseries in the southeast to offer bonsai to the public. The centerpiece of the monastery's bonsai collection is a Kingsville boxwood (photo at right), one of the original eight trees of this strain developed during the 1930's. During his lifetime, Brother Paul (as he liked to be called) earned the reputation of being a true American Bonsai Master. His quarter century of highly creative bonsai art made him well known nationally and internationally. Born in Seattle, he early on established a lifelong love of horticulture. As a child of eight he saw his first bonsai trees while visiting a Japanese friend whose father had a small collection. Later he received an MA of Fine Arts from Yale University. He was an artist in many mediums including paint and sculpture as well as bonsai. His second exposure to bonsai was in Mainland China and Japan in the late 1920's where he visited as a student. With a love of both art and plants, perhaps it was inevitable that he should express that love in bonsai, which he always emphasized was a true art form in the most classic sense. At the monastery in 1963, Brother Paul built a glass and wood-framed greenhouse to house orchids, which he grew and displayed as a hobby. He also began puttering around making bonsai, although he had no formal training. The first "sale" of a tree happened one day while Brother Paul was away from the greenhouse. Upon his return, Brother Pius, who ran the small monastic gift shop, confessed that he had sold one of the "little plants" to an insistent customer. It was Br. Paul's favorite and Brother Pius had charged all of $5.00 for it. From this unlikely start the bonsai business began.For over thirty years Br. Paul sat quietly in the greenhouse, usually by the cash register, where he went about crafting beautiful bonsai. To any and all who stopped to look and ask he spoke of this lovely art form of creating miniature trees in a pot. Over the years he launched many, many people into the wonder of bonsai. Though formally untrained, he brought considerable natural talent and the ears and eyes of an always-inquiring student. Over the years he became a friend of most of the great American Bonsai Masters like John Naka, Yugi Yoshimura, and more recently the much younger Zhao of China. They received him as one of their own and visited here regularly to see and share their uncommon passion for the art of bonsai. It is an honor for the monks to carry on Brother Paul's legacy.
- Mark

Fordham Symposium & February Lectures

Many readers of this blog are aware that 2012 marks the 60th anniversary of the publication of Flannery O'Connor's first novel, Wise Blood. In celebration of this landmark in American literature, Fordham University will be hosting a one-day symposium on March 24th from 2-6 p.m. The symposium will consist of two panels with such notable O'Connor scholars as Susan Srigley, Richard Giannone, and Paul Elie. Unlike other conferences where the attendee must choose between many presentations, the format of this one makes it possible for one to attend both panels and hear all the speakers. At the conclusion of the symposium there will be a screening of John Huston's 1979 film adaptation of Wise Blood. For more information on this event and how to register, click on this link http://origin.web.fordham.edu/cs/O'Connor.shtml
Wise Blood isn't the only major novel celebrating a birthday in 2012. This year is also the 30th anniversary of the publication of Alice Walker's masterpiece, The Color Purple. In honor of this event our popular February Lecture Series kicks off Sunday with a talk from Dr. Carol Andrews, associate professor of English at Armstrong Atlantic State University. Dr. Andrews will compare and contrast the work of Flannery O'Connor and Alice Walker. This lecture is free and open to the public and starts at 3:00 in the Andalusia dining room.
- Mark

Hootie

No, the subject of today's post is not the chap pictured here whose band, Hootie and the Blowfish, was a pop music sensation in the 1990s. The man I am referring to was Flannery O'Connor's confessor, spiritual director, and among her closest confidantes (unfortunately, I was unable to find a photo of him). Affectionately known as "Hootie" to all who loved him, Fr. James H. McCown, S.J. was born in Mobile, Alabama in 1912, the eldest child in a large family. He graduated from Spring Hill College in 1932 and was ordained to the priesthood in 1947. During Fr. McCown's ministry, he served the church as a missionary in Mexico, Kenya, Tanzania, and Alaska. In addition to his missionary activity, Fr. McCown worked in retreat houses in Texas and Louisiana and authored a number of books. It was while he was assistant pastor at St. Joseph Catholic Church in Macon (1953-58) that he met O'Connor. Taken as he was with her first collection of short stories, Fr. McCown decided to drive out to Andalusia to meet the author. The two hit it off immediately, and Flannery later confessed that Fr. McCown was "the first priest to say 'turkey-dog' to me about liking anything I wrote." Besides being the priest she trusted most, Fr. McCown recommended O'Connor to Harold C. Gardiner, SJ, the literary editor of America, who published her essay "The Church and the Fiction Writer" on March 30, 1957. Besides turning to Fr. McCown for spiritual matters, Flannery also consulted the priest about literary concerns. In March, 1962, O'Connor was having serious writer's block and feared the well was running dry. She wrote to McCown asking him to pray for her. "I've been writing for sixteen years and I have the sense of having exhausted my original potentiality and being now in need of the kind of grace that deepens perception, a new shot of life or something." (The Habit of Being, p. 468). Some six years before Flannery died, Fr. McCown was reassigned to Houston, Texas, and though they continued to correspond, the two never saw each other again this side of heaven. It was in 1991, when he was on the road leading a retreat as he loved to do, that Fr. McCown died at the age of 80. Last week, Southern Cross, the newsweekly of the Diocese of Savannah, ran a story on Fr. McCown. The reader who is interested in learning more about Fr. James H. McCown is encouraged to check out this interesting article by Rita H. DeLorme (Southern Cross, vol. 92, No. 03, January 19, 2012, p. 5).
- Mark

Dazzling Designs

For the last couple years I've noticed a fashion trend among our female visitors to Andalusia. As a sign of their devotion to Flannery, or perhaps as a signal to us that they are die-hard O'Connor fans, some women come out here wearing peacock feather earrings. Because they are very "in" now, we decided to start carrying them in our gift shop. The ones we have were hand-crafted for us by J. Drexler Designs in Gainesville, Georgia. Each pair of earrings is a one of a kind creation and no two are exactly alike. Selling for $19.95 a pair, they are as original as the author who inspired their design and make a wonderful souvenir.
- Mark