Now, I have, in all my life, watched about 10 minutes of an Oprah Winfrey show. The closest I have really come to her was in "The Colour Purple" and that AWFUL, fawning interview she did with Michael Jackson.
Nonetheless, she is an American institution, rich, powerful, influential....
So, just now I came across this, in Slate, and I was fascinated:
http://www.slate.com/id/2126351?nav=wp
I will excerpt a bit...
Reading Faulkner With Oprah
It's underrated.
By Meghan O'Rourke
Posted Thursday, Sept. 15, 2005, at 6:56 AM PT
Click here to read more from Slate's "Book Blitz."
When Oprah announced last June that her book club would tackle the taxing project of reading three novels by William Faulkner?-"A Summer of Faulkner," she called it?-I signed up immediately. I was motivated, in part, by genuine curiosity. In 18 years of education, including a college degree in English and an MFA, I had never been asked to read a single book by Faulkner. And I'd never successfully managed to read him on my own. One summer I actually got through most of Light in August. But today all I remember about the experience is feeling under-equipped to make sense of the book's massive complexities and tortuous undercurrents. A recent attempt to breach The Sound and the Fury failed at page 16. It had begun to seem Faulkner wasn't for me. So why not enlist Oprah in my aid? Of course, there was another motive at work: Call it literary rubber-necking. What on earth, I wondered, would the doyenne of self-help and "rapport-talk" make of William Faulkner, the high priest of American modernism?-and, according to the New York Review of Books, "the most radical innovator in the annals of American fiction"?
It looked like one of the oddest pairings around, and yet Oprah-meets-Faulkner turned out, in a curious way, to be an inspired match. It's easy to forget just how radical a writer Faulkner still is, because he's been so thoroughly absorbed into the canon: a process by which, as one critic once put it, "the idiosyncratic is distorted into the normative." Faulkner is anything but normative. Figuring out what is going on in a book like The Sound and the Fury is so hard?-and demands such a leap of faith?-that every reader struggles in similar ways. Its demanding textual challenges have a strangely democratizing effect. No matter how many lit-crit terms you can throw around, Faulkner's jagged, wildly original style is hard?-and can jar confident readers as well as less confident ones. And I confess: At this point in my life, harried by e-mails, exhausted by obligations, tempted by TiVo, I needed some kind of nudging to get me to sit down and engage as deeply as the book was asking me to.................
...........Going online in search of help, I worried about what I might find. What if no one liked Faulkner, or?-worse?-the message boards were full of politically correct protests of his attitude toward women, or rife with therapeutic platitudes inspired by the incest and suicide that underpin the book? But on the boards, which I found after clicking past a headline about transvestites who break up families, I discovered scores of thoughtful posts that were bracingly enthusiastic about Faulkner. Even the grumpy readers?-and there were some, of course?-seemed to want to discover what everyone else was excited about. What I liked best was that people were busy addressing something no one talks about much these days: the actual experience of reading, the nuts and bolts of it. A typical posting, under the heading "That's Faulkner For Ya," offered encouragement to a struggling fellow member:
I think Benjy's chapter [the first] is the hardest to read through since his is not only subjective but his thought processes are REALLY random. Once you get past this and Quentin's, it shouldn't be that hard. Hang in there, it's a true masterpiece! Oh, and try reading the first 2 chapters again after you've read it through...
To which another reader responded:
Actually, Benjy's jumps aren't random. There is usually a trigger, and looking for the trigger can help you make sense of it. For example, the first transition is triggered by Luster noting Benjy is always "snagging on that nail." This triggers a memory of when Caddy "uncaught" Benjy when he was little.
This was helpful. I was hooked. From then on, whenever I got disgruntled and confused, I'd scan the message boards quickly and find a wise soul counseling that those of us in the early pages just "relax" and listen to the language. Nor was this an overly simplistic method: Faulkner, after all, was interested in the materiality of language, and my focus on understanding, on processing on a thematic level, was, in some sense, drawing me away from the intensities of the book, the fractured repetitions, the short, propulsive declarations that are cosmic in scope. (It was an English teacher, I couldn't help noticing, who posted the first annoyed response I saw: "Although I love some of the modernists, especially T.S. Eliot and D.H. Lawrence, Faulkner so far is leaving me cold.")
Meanwhile, the lectures made a useful antidote to the message boards and their focus on the experience of reading. This weekly virtual gathering underscored for me just how different Oprah's book club is?-in a positive sense?-from the traditional "book club" community. Rather than reading the book on our own and then getting together to gab about its themes and what we "liked," we were online solving textual puzzles and then sitting down for a dose of synthesized information. The professor selected by Oprah to guide us through The Sound and the Fury was a woman named Thadious Davis from the University of Pennsylvania. In striving for a menu that would appeal to everyone, Davis might easily have fed us intellectual popcorn. Instead, we got a thoughtful grounding in basic literary history, in lectures that ranged from belle-lettristic commentary on Faulkner's life to characterological assessments of the Compsons?-all from a professor as likely to allude to Pound ("make it new") as to Desperate Housewives (where "Faulknerian" flashback technique thrives). In describing the "modernist practice of representing consciousness" Davis invoked the usual suspects?-Joyce, Proust, Woolf, Lawrence?-but she also included Dorothy Richardson, the inventor of stream-of-consciousness, whose name I'd never heard or had long since forgotten. A tap on the keyboard and I'd learned that Richardson was the author of Pilgrimage.....
That is a very interesting thing happening, there, I think. I like the sound of it a lot.
Anyhoo, if this were just about books, I'd have put it in books.
What I am wondering is: What is Oprah's EFFECT?
To be honest, the bits I have seen of her shows make me cringe, but there she is, successful and not, think, purely through appealing to the mawkish and sensational.
And she has succeeded from a base of awful experience that makes me admire her.
She is bright, has begun a book reading phenomenon, which is clearly guiding people to some damn interesting stuff, she SAYS stuff that isn't popular and that opens stuff up.
Not to mention her battles with the bulge!
What is her impact on the world, do you think?
Oh, a retrospective of Slate stuff:
http://www.slate.com/id/1851/
http://www.slate.com/id/2064224/
http://www.slate.com/id/2084913/
http://www.slate.com/id/2058036/entry/2058061/
(This is a Faulkneresque Bush parody, sorry, it wa sthere!
http://www.slate.com/id/2113927/ )