Word: yoknapatawphaized
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...Well, folks, reckon that's about it. End of another day in the city of Jefferson, Yoknapatawpha County, Mississippi. Nothin' much happened. Couple of people got raped, couple more got their teeth kicked in, but way up there those far-away old stars are still doing their old cosmic crisscross, and there ain't a thing we can do about it. It's pretty quiet now. Folk hereabouts get to bed early, those that can still walk. Down behind the morgue a few of the young people are roastin' a nigger over an open fire...
...Powell is dull; he is indeed much funnier than Proust (though not, perhaps, to the French). It is not that his subject matter is so special as to be outside U.S. sympathy; by now, British upper and middle class life should be less exotic to the U.S. reader than Yoknapatawpha County or the gas-filled pads of Jack Kerouac and his pals. The reason must lie in the curious economics of publishing, which dictate that his current work be issued as a separate novel. It is not a novel. It is the fifth installment* of a work-in-progress titled...
...times is the common ingredient. Predictably, the writer who has mixed the smoothest cup of brine is The New Yorker's John Cheever. With his oft-repeated visions of suburbia under a lowering sky, the author is obviously following Faulkner's lead by creating a kind of Yoknapatawpha, Conn. The fact that there are no Snopeses and not even very much crab grass in the commuters' heaven adds wry emphasis to Cheever's reiterated question. "Is this all there is?" ask his characters, who have everything. In The Country Husband, the author's answer...
...Money God. Like a singular breed of evil locusts, Flem Snopes and his clan showed up in Mississippi's Yoknapatawpha County at precisely the moment when the old Southern aristocracy had become a pushover for vulgar, illiterate climbers. Flem's god was money, because money was power, and in the end it led even to respectability. To get money, he trampled over the less cunning, blandly jobbed the unsuspecting; he married the casually pregnant daughter of the big man in Frenchman's Bend, and with equal blandness allowed himself to be cuckolded by a banker because...
...Long, Hot Summer (20th Century-Fox) bears only a remote resemblance to the William Faulkner tales on which it is based (The Hamlet, Barn Burning). The Hamlet, in which Author Faulkner aired the moral midden of Yoknapatawpha County in an ecstasy of disgust, is particularly strong stuff, and Producer Jerry Wald clearly had to clean up his subject for the screen. In the process, unfortunately, he converted Faulkner's county into a community almost as corny as Al Capp's Dogpatch, and reduced all the poetry of degradation to the customary commercial serving of fresh...