19 - Morning Crafts

When it comes to the arts (specifically music, film and literature), I've often been accused of having a slightly weird taste. As such, I've given some thought over the years to what can actually be classified as "weird" and whether the concept can even be defined in an objective sense. By dictionary definition, the word refers specifically to the supernatural, or in a more archaic manner to ideas of fate and destiny. Yet that doesn't seem to be quite in line with its modern usage, which relates more generally to anything outside of the usual, mainstream or everyday. But again there's another layer - hard to pin down - to the word that lends its usage to situations or ideas that instil a sense in those experiencing them that all is not quite right; so I suppose in that way the original definition has been retained.

With all that in mind, Tito Perdue's Morning Crafts is a truly, objectively weird book. Just as a start, for the purposes of this post I realised I would have to look up the publication date, as I was unable to place it at all, and consequently couldn't really put it in a wider context. The answer turned out to be 2012, much more recent than I would have guessed, and I believe not consistent with the period in which the book is set - although to work that out would be almost impossible, dealing as it does with ideas of a post-consumerist, post-service-industry-driven society that have only emerged since the turn of the millennium, but at the same time appearing to be set in the rural Alabama of a hundred years earlier. And that is far from the only contradiction of its kind. The struggle between old and new seeps into the very prose of the work, Perdue's writing at times lyrical and flowery, at others colloquial and comic, at still others all of the above at once.

The protagonist, Lee, appears in nearly all of Perdue's novels, and is apparently based on the author himself. Kidnapped one day from his farm in the Deep South, he finds himself inducted into a mysterious cult that forces the values of the study of the fine arts and aestheticism on the company of boys it brings in each year. Lee himself is a contradiction, seemingly hating every aspect of his education yet remaining committed to it all the same, attempting to escape on a regular basis yet returning just as soon as he has left the commune's limits without any coercion. It turns out that, despite his humble upbringing, he has something of a talent for classical literature and language, and before long finds himself protected among the cult's elite as his classmates begin to be consigned to working the fields. As a coming-of-age tale it doesn't really work, as Lee's rebellious attitude remains firm, and his successes seem to come as a result of nothing at all. I suspect Perdue's aim was rather to show that if you've got it, you've got it, although as Lee comes to the end of his journey uncertain of where to turn next, Perdue does say that he is too far removed from his origins to return.

The plot's conclusion is just as dichotomous - on the one hand, Perdue seems to be condemning the cult, placing as much emphasis as they do on pure theory rather than perhaps using their intellect to solve the abject poverty of the towns and communities that surround them, as well as highlighting the dangers of wilful isolation. But there is more than a hint of regret at the fact that there may soon no longer be any place for such ideals.

Otherwise, despite all the confusion brought about by the general weirdness of the book, Perdue's writing still made for very entertaining reading. It brought me right into the centre of a part of the world I know very little about and will probably never see, provided the occasional laugh-out-loud moment and left me considering the possibility of reading more of his works to see what happens next in Lee's life.

4/5

This song isn't particularly weird as they go - although the video certainly is - but for some reason this book reminded me of it a lot.