Winesburg, Ohio

Anyone else raised in a small town or community? I love the community I grew up in - wouldn’t trade that upbringing for anything. Our small fellowship of locals included all the characters one could expect in a book for sure: the older gentleman who owned and ran the local store (we actually had two gentlemen and two stores), a beautician or two who did all the ladies’ hair, a few local teachers from the public school, the widowed sisters who lived together in their later seasons of life, and the treasure of a lady who lived to be 108, and I remember being fascinated with all of them from the time I was very very young.

If you made it through school without an English teacher having you read Winesburg, Ohio, it’s time. Think about it - the book is named for a town. A real town that is not that real town, though. He called it Winesburg, but really, it was based on Clyde, Ohio. 

Sherwood Anderson wrote his heartwrenching novel from 1915-1916. Are the stories encouraging and uplifting? With perfect endings? And lavishly beautiful characters? Absolutely not. In fact, (and it’s been several years since I read it) most of the stories are just sad. Misunderstood characters who are just trying to get by, while everyone else just keeps jabbing with their “misunderstanding”. Maybe “sad” isn’t the word. Maybe evocative, challenging, and intriguing are better words. The characters written by Anderson make you feel - really feel - not only what those characters are feeling, but what others around you may also be feeling. It isn’t a superficial read, and it isn’t for the faint of heart. 

Anderson’s writing is so beautiful. Let me give you an example of one of my favorite descriptions from “Paper Pills”: The knuckles of the doctor's hands were extraordinarily large. When the hands were closed they looked like clusters of unpainted wooden balls as large as walnuts fastened together by steel rods. He smoked a cob pipe and after his wife's death sat all day in his empty office close by a window that was covered with cobwebs. He never opened the window. Once on a hot day in August he tried but found it stuck fast and after that he forgot all about it.

I enjoy vivid description in an author’s style. Not only can I see this as I read it, but I feel it as well. There’s a melancholy in the way he writes that makes me feel sad for this doctor - even before I know I’m supposed to. 

I love the way he takes one chapter from each character’s life to write about. It’s evident the man is an artist, a wordsmith. He’s the Georgia O’Keefe of short story. Many times in life, I feel like I gloss right by a moment I know I’m supposed to learn something from, but I’m in too big a hurry. This is a book that encourages that you sit and instead of pulling out a phone and scrolling, you work through “the moment.” Think about what happened. Think about how you would change it if you could. Think about the best possible way to go about things now - after the moment has passed. 

I enjoy books in which I can find valid life application. I rarely read - which is ironic given that I have taught English for twenty plus years - but I can appreciate any book that makes a point eloquently. I don’t feel like we ever find ourselves completely on one side all the time. We are not always the misunderstood. We are not always the “jabbers”. Sometimes, we make mistakes. Sometimes, we are the victim of someone else’s mistakes. How do we go on from that? Do we forgive? Do we hold grudges? Do we move on? Do we dwell on that moment forever? 

Winesburg, Ohio is one of the great inspirations of my painting. I used to think it strange when one would take one medium and allow it to inspire another, but isn’t that what art is supposed to do? Isn’t that what life is supposed to do? I think so.