I could sit here all day and list off all of Ernest J. Gaines’ accomplishments and awards; however, that would not tell the full story of Gaines’ influence. I could stand here and talk about the importance of celebrating the 50th anniversary of Catherine Carmier, but again that would not tell the full story. What follows is my brief attempt to tell part of that story. Gaines’ work provides a voice to those in rural South Louisiana that did not have a voice. He writes so that those who do not have a mark and are buried beneath the soil here along False River will be heard, not just today, but for eternity. He writes so that “the white kids [will] understand what the black kid is, and [that] the black kid [will] understand who he is.” He writes to illuminate the universal nature of human existence. He writes because he wanted to show “the Bull Connors and the Faubeses, and the Wallaces and the Thurmans that I could do anything with those twenty six letters that they could, and I could do it better than any of them could.” He writes because he must.
With that in mind, Gaines has influenced many people, me
included. When I think about Gaines and his work, I cannot help but think about
the way he introduced me to so much more than just his own writing. In high
school, my musical tastes began to take shape. This was during the nineties
when Nirvana and bands of that ilk reigned on the charts, or at least in my
head. Nirvana, with 1993’s In Utero,
opened my eyes to a style of music that I never imagined could’ve existed.
Right now, you may be wondering what in the world Nirvana has to do with Ernest
J. Gaines. Trust me, I have a point. During November of 1993, Nirvana performed
on MTV’s Unplugged. Typically, bands that did unplugged performances on MTV
played their own music, never really deviating from what they, themselves, had
created. Nirvana, on the other hand, bucked this trend. Instead of playing all
of their hits acoustically they decided to mix it up with cover songs from
other bands. Concluding the show, the band performed Leadbelly’s arrangement of
“Where Did You Sleep Last Night.” Knowing the tragic end of Nirvana singer Kurt
Cobain’s life, I cannot help but listen to that recording and get chills. (A video of that performance is below. Leadbelly's version is above.)
After hearing Nirvana’s rendition of “Where Did You Sleep
Last Night,” I decided to check out Leadbelly. However, upon first hearing the
older recording and Leadbelly’s voice, I am ashamed to say, I laughed. I never
thought I would listen to Leadbelly again. Ever. As I evolved, though, I began
to grow more accustomed to Leadbelly, his voice, his story, and his phenomenal guitar
playing. A band from Washington not only introduced me to Leadbelly, a blues
musician from my own state who has a statue in Shreveport where I grew up, but
they also introduced me to other bands and musicians who have had a major
influence on my musical tastes and life. What Nirvana did is what all good artists do.
They spoke to me, giving me an outlet for those adolescent years where I did
not know exactly who I was or where I was going. They did more than that
though. They also pointed me towards artists that influenced them: Sonic Youth,
The Pixies, Dinosaur Jr., The Melvins, Mudhoney, etc. In essence, they were the
center and everything else radiated away from that center.
In many ways, Gaines did the same exact thing. Even though I
did not read him as an adolescent, I have taken from him and his work a wealth
of paths that lead in so many directions I cannot begin to list them all. I don’t
remember when I first read a work by Gaines. I do remember, however, that it
was A Gathering of Old Men. After
reading that, and A Lesson before Dying,
I remember thinking to myself that Gaines’ work is very accessible. At first, I
saw only the 10% of the iceberg that resides above the surface of the water. Beneath
the surface, the other 90% was waiting patiently for me to discover it. Gaines’
work grabs you with its readability, but it entangles you with its ability to
show you more than what you initially expected.
His focused attention to detail, structure, story, and characters allow
him to create such accessible yet considerably dense works of literature. As time progressed and I continued to evolve
some more, I began to realize that my initial introduction to Gaines and his
writing opened the door to deeper understanding of the world around me, Gaines’
work, and his influences.
When I began to reread Gaines’ works and delve into his
other novels, I began to see that his writing contains much more than I
initially suspected. For example, The
Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman has become, for me, something akin to Ralph
Ellison’s Invisible Man. Each time I
read Ellison’s tour de force, I find and experience something new. This partly
occurs because of my sensibilities, but also because of the nature of art.
Rereading about Miss Jane has the same effect. I always find something new or
something different. That is what true art should do. It should make you want
to return, time and time again, to a familiar space where you find something
new every time you decide to make a return trip.
Along with introducing me to something new on my return
trips to St. Raphael Parish, Gaines has pulled me away from Louisiana to
Russia, Ireland, Michigan, and elsewhere. Gaines has taken me to Russia and showed
me the importance of authors like Turgenev, Tolstoy, and Chekhov in regards to
form and subject. He has shown me the beauty and importance of composers like Modest
Mussorgsky and his Pictures at an
Exhibition. He has transported me to Ireland and shown me how James Joyce
constructs stories and focuses on his own particular stamp-sized piece of
Earth. Gaines has sparked my interest in Hemingway as well. I used to despise
Hemingway for his apparent “simplicity” and repetition. However, after reading
Gaines and listening to him speak about Hemingway and his work, I now see the
nuance and beauty of Hemingway. Not just is his style and form but also in his subject
matter.
Gaines has given me much more than just his writing. Along
with giving me a larger appreciation for my home state of Louisiana, he has
opened up avenues for me that I had either closed before or had never noticed.
He has taken me down paths that have allowed me to better understand the
interrelatedness between literature, music, visual art, and life. To me, that
is what good art should do. It should expand our horizons beyond what the
artist has produced. Gaines has done just that. He has expanded my perspectives
in more ways than I can mention. For that, I am forever grateful.
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