Deepest South of All

A more accurate title for Richard Grant\’s book should be NATCHEZ ACCORDING TO REGINA CHARBONEAU. She and several other ladies are prominently quoted, and their stories make for colorful prose. The prologue itself is so bazaar that I found it unbelievable, The book felt more like an expose that an accurate description of Natchez. Most of her citizens are depicted either as alcoholics or mentally unstable. He is less than kind when referring to some of the antebellum home owners. He takes Mrs. Charboneau\’s remarks about the \”other garden club\” as racist, socially inferior and responsible for sabotaging the Tablauex, because they were against the inclusion of African Americans. His story is one sided, and he prides himself on being objective as an author and jounalist.

This was definitely not my favorite book. I found it very slow moving in some parts. It seemed to highlight everything that is wrong with the south. It appeared very gossipy in parts showing almost a pettiness among the people in this town. As a reader I felt there were other stories or even a different approach that could have been taken to highlight the history and even the issues that this town had without giving a mean gossipy feel. All in all I feel that this purchase was a wast of my money and time.

As a 20 year resident of Natchez, it’s like living in a 300 year old Wax Museum and when an audience arrives the waxworks come to life. Enjoy the book and if you visit, enjoy the show.

Disclaimor: I live in Natchez. I am a very big fan of Dispatches from Pluto. Unfortunately, This book in no where near so rich and insightful. It reads more like an opportunistic gossip column. The material for Dispatches seemed to arise organically, from the author\’s relationship with people in the Delta. Here, everyone knew who Richard was and much of the material seems to come from cocktail parties with people looking to provide a shocking quote, and get a mention in the book. Still, the gossip is juicy and fun. The inclusion of the story of the prince/slave seems contrived.

Grant embarks on a Dante like descent into the levels of Southern Gothic with various residents of Natchez filling in along the way for Virgil. However, in this Divine Comedy you wonder if he will escape, or if it will end with him receiving guests in his own pilgrimage house while ghosts wielding weed-eaters float above in place of cherubs. Natchez is a place where your child’s chance at royalty can be ended by spilling a Coke on the Garden Club carpet while kowtowing to a Natchez grandee. Grant chronicles generations of boys being forced into velvet pantaloons, dyed orange to look like Indians and then outfitted as rebel soldiers – you turn the pages wondering if anyone gets out alive or is madness a forgone conclusion. It is a place where someone in a top hat hands you a business card that reads Jimmy A. Cricket and no one thinks anything about it…Oh, and there is a imprisoned African Prince backstory that should be a Disney movie. Buy this book, you will not want to put it down.

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