Inhabiting the Soul of Things

January 29, 2006

There are two key benefits to 70 degree days in January - one, bragging to the folks back home and two, sitting out in the sun with a good book. Anticipating the heat wave of the past week, I headed to the Bluffton Library last Saturday to get my library card.

The librarians could not have been more helpful – and the Southern charm of the Bluffton Library was somewhat remarkable. I can honestly say that the architecture of a library has never struck me as unique. (Probably because most libraries are cinder block towers.) But, Bluffton did it right.

In just a few minutes I was official and in search of a good book. I wandered somewhat aimlessly, not really sure what I was looking for. I had no author or genre in mind. Honestly, I was simply looking at the bindings for inspiration. And then it hit me – Pat Conroy.

I have been silently reminding myself for months that I needed to read Conroy’s works. (While at the same time avoiding Prince of Tides showings on HBO – so the movie wouldn’t ruin the book.)

I had never come across his books before – I tend to find an author I love and read everything they have written. Conroy’s books never fell into my lap. Now though, as a resident of the Lowcountry, I thought this was the perfect place to start.

To describe our growing up in the Lowcountry of South Carolina, I would have to take you to the marsh on a spring day, flush the great blue heron from its silent occupation, scatter marsh hens as we sink to our knees in mud, open you an oyster with a pocket knife and feed it to you from the shell and say, “There. That taste. That’s the taste of my childhood.” - The Prince of Tides

I selected The Prince of Tides and by early afternoon I was hooked. Talk about painting a picture with words. Conroy’s vivid imagery of the Lowcountry makes me thirsty for insider knowledge on growing up in this remarkable region. While his stories are fiction, he weaves his tale around his own experience of being raised in our backyard.

In his Memories of an Island in South Carolina Conroy tells us, “Because I came to Beaufort County when I was a boy, my novels all smell of seawater. I watch things closely here, and I try to get the details right. I write about the great salt marshes and pretend I am that marsh. I do the same with the ocean, the horseshoe crab, the flock of brown pelicans, the beach-strewn kelp, the half-eaten stingray. I try to inhabit the soul of things, before I write about them, the way my mother taught me.”

I am only half way through the 567 pages (wow, they don’t write ‘em like they used – The Prince of Tides was published 20 years ago) but I am already looking forward to my next Conroy novel.

I was born and raised on a Carolina sea island, and I carried the sunshine of the Lowcountry, inked in dark gold, on my back and shoulders.

Did you get you your library card yet?