But Welty is not a regional writer—her purview is much smaller than that. Her writing is bound up in the romance of everyday objects, in the vagaries of memory and how they become tied to a place, a room, a piece of furniture, or a trinket. Proust had his madeleine, but Welty had pralines.
Authors Eudora Welty
National Portrait Gallery
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It’s instinctive for a writer to show acute feeling or intense states of emotion by translating it into something visible—red hair, if nothing else.
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‘I do not comprehend all that I am,’ St Augustine wrote, and he followed this declaration with the question: ‘Is the mind, therefore, too limited to possess itself?’ Eudora Welty conveys self-possession by self-dispersal, not by consciously, or even unconsciously, concocting an instantly recognisable ‘personality’. Rather she defines and displays herself in the act of seeping into other minds and bodies.
A Curtain of Green