Winesburg, Ohio

If you’re one of my two readers (hi, Colleen!), you know I’m always reading Winesburg, Ohio — even when I’m not. When I chit-chat books with literature buffs, I can scarcely contain my excitement when the town of Winesburg swings gracefully into view, its buildings and streets and people. Its lonesome mournfulness. Maybe I love the book for strictly personal reasons. After all, Anderson crafted this lovely little gem just for me. Every word, every sentence, every story reads like an envelope stuffed with a personal letter kindly penned by Anderson to say something about a pastoral world, going, going, gone.  “Hands,” the first vignette, reads with great simplicity and throat-tightening poignancy. Even its memory moves me to emotion. What a gorgeous book!


3 Responses to Winesburg, Ohio

  1. Colleen says:

    Hi Kevin.

    I didn’t love this book the way you do, but Wing Biddlebaum keeps coming back to haunt me…His was truly a perfect short story.

  2. Dear Sir,

    What a wonderful book to visit again and again. Throughout my life I have remembered the stories “Paper Pills” and “Hands” and they continually influence my perception of events and my perception of other things that try to accomplish the same end.

    It’s nice to find someone else who loves Winesburg, Ohio as much as I do. Indeed, so much that when I lived in Columbus, I took a drive up through Amish country to visit Winesburg.



  3. Lee Monks says:

    It’s a shame that pretty much ‘Nobody Knows’ about this book. It’s certainly a great piece of work.

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