Today, I consider books my friends. I love having them around, because they remind me of the times in my life when I was reading them. I organize my books by color. I take the dust jacket off, and then I know where it belongs. If it’s a white book, it goes in the white section. If it’s red, it goes in the red section. I find those rows of books so pretty to look at, and it’s also great because you do it once and then you’re done. No constant realphabetizing or anything like that.
My favorite book is Graham Greene’s The End of the Affair. I just love that book. He’s such a beautiful writer. He’ll break your heart. I also love Lorrie Moore. Birds of America was a really important book for me in my early twenties, because it was so insightful about how women make decisions and how we all have different attitudes toward relationships. Similarly, I find Ann Patchett’s This Is the Story of a Happy Marriage endlessly inspiring. When I read it, I feel like she’s my smart, brilliant friend, and we’re just having a conversation about life, marriage, divorce—all the big topics.
And then of course there’s Donna Tartt’s The Secret History, The Little Friend, and The Goldfinch. Authors who take the time and care to write about the details of life are so incredible to me. I have a deep appreciation for writers who are that observant and poignant.
The South has contributed a great deal to literature. I love Julia Reed’s books. They have hilarious titles, such as But Mama Always Put Vodka in Her Sangria! I’ve been lucky enough to meet her in person. She sure knows how to spin a yarn, both at dinner parties and in her books. She knows the exact right moment to whisper a secret or a dirty joke. Then she laughs this magnificent laugh.
I love small, independent bookstores, such as Ann Patchett’s Parnassus Books in Nashville. They create real community togetherness. There are also fantastic book festivals all over the South, such as the Southern Festival of Books in downtown Nashville, right in front of the Capitol Building. Small presses are represented there, as well as bestselling authors.
My Favorite English Teacher
Her name was Margaret Renkl, and in my junior year of high school she made me love literature. We had to read a lot of Shakespeare and To Kill a Mockingbird. It was a really formative year for me. I learned about character analysis, conflicts between characters, narrative structure, the journey of a hero and an antihero, and how to compare characters to real people in history. I really credit her with my early understanding of how to create a character as an actor. In a way she was my greatest acting teacher, because not only did she encourage my love of stories and reading, but she helped me learn to figure out how characters worked. We reconnected about ten years after I graduated from high school, and to this day we’re in touch. We have a great email relationship. And she’s a very dear friend of Ann Patchett. She isn’t a teacher anymore, but she still writes, including for the New York Times. What a blessing to have such an engaged, encouraging, enthusiastic teacher in my life!
Books make the best gifts, too. For children and adults alike, I love the Penguin Classics books. I think they’re so beautiful, and they’re a nice keepsake.
Recently, I’ve taken my love of books online with an Instagram book club that lets me share some of my favorites. Here are a few of my selections:
The Alice Network by Kate Quinn
The Lying Game by Ruth Ware
Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng
The Rules of Magic by Alice Hoffman
The Last Mrs. Parrish by Liv Constantine
Braving the Wilderness by Brené Brown
The Light We Lost by Jill Santopolo
Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows by Balli Kaur Jaswal
Happiness: A Memoir: The Crooked Little Road to Semi-Ever After by Heather Harpham
Offline, I get together with a group of friends for a regular Girls’ Book Club Night. I cherish these evenings. Not only do they give us an excuse to read the same book so we have something specific to discuss, but then when we (inevitably) digress to topics such as our families and work, it feels sort of like passing notes at school.
Here’s what I like to serve, in addition to the usual cheese plate.
MENU
the perfect book club menu
* * *
Red and white wine
Baked Brie
Hot Spinach–Artichoke Dip
Olive medley
Crackers, cheese, and fruit
SERVES 8 TO 10
Baked Brie
* * *
Creamy cheese topped with fruit-and-nut chutney is a classic combination, but I make it southern style by using spiced-up peach preserves. The dried apricots and chopped pecans provide texture, and the Tennessee whiskey and vinegar give a great little kick of acidity to the rich cheese and sweet topping.
* * *
1 whole Brie round
2 tablespoons peach preserves (really, any kind of fruit preserves will work; you can see what fruit and pepper jellies are made locally)
1/8 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 tablespoon dried apricots, chopped
1/2 cup chopped pecans
1 teaspoon honey
2 teaspoons whiskey
1 teaspoon balsamic vinegar
* * *
1. Preheat the oven to 350°F.
2. Line a baking sheet with parchment and place the round of Brie on the paper.
3. Stir together the preserves, pepper flakes, apricots, pecans, honey, whiskey, and vinegar and spoon over the top of the cheese round.
4. Bake for 5 to 10 minutes, keeping an eye on the cheese as it heats. The topping will begin to run down the sides and the cheese itself will begin to look misshapen. The warming time will vary depending on the brand of cheese and how cold it is to begin with. It’s easy for the cheese to melt completely and the topping to burn if you don’t watch it carefully. Serve with an assortment of crackers, apple slices, or bread.
MAKES ENOUGH FOR 6 TO 8 PARTIERS
Hot Spinach–Artichoke Dip
* * *
This dip is a beloved cocktail party standard across the United States, but the South will lay ownership to anything containing cream cheese and mayonnaise. Perhaps one of the easiest party dishes to make, it goes equally great with cheap beer or fine wine.
* * *
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided
1 cup frozen spinach, thawed, drained, and coarsely chopped
1 (14 oz.) can artichoke hearts, drained and coarsely chopped
4 ounces (1/2 cup) cream cheese, room temperature
1/2 cup sour cream
1/4 cup mayonnaise
1 clove garlic, grated
1/4 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
4 to 5 dashes of hot sauce (optional)
* * *
1. Preheat the oven to 350°F.
2. Spray a small baking dish with baking spray or rub with soft butter.
3. Mix 1/4 cup of the Parmesan cheese together with the rest of the ingredients and spoon into the baking dish.
4. Sprinkle the remaining 1/4 cup of Parmesan cheese over the top of the mixture.
5. Bake until it begins to bubble and the cheese starts to brown, about 20 to 30 minutes. Serve warm with crackers or bread.
CHAPTER 14
My Did-Do Language
& NOTES ON SOUTHERN CONVERSATION
Conversation seems like a lost art sometimes. One pet peeve I have is poor introductions. I learned as a child to introduce myself with my first and last names. Nowadays, people just say, “Hi!”
I mean, c’mon, say your name! You’re not wearing a name tag. I don’t care if you’ve met somebody fifteen thousand times, say your name! I say my name to people all the time and they go, “Uh, I know who you are.” But it’s a habit, and it’s part of how I was raised: to say my first and last name every single time I meet someone. People shouldn’t have to guess.
As a little girl, I was taught to answer the phone by saying “Hello! Witherspoon residence. Reese speaking.” Then the person who
called had the obligation to say hello and introduce him- or herself. At my grade school, we learned to take a proper message and to make pleasant conversation with whomever was at the other end of the line.
We were also taught that the caller always had to hang up the phone first. That’s right: you can’t hang up until the other person does, which leads to looooong conversations sometimes.
These days, I’ve relaxed a little bit. Now I might say, “Hi, I’m Reese.” But I think it’s essential to assume that people don’t know your name. People have got a lot going on. They might not remember that they met you three years ago at a school fund raiser.
The worst version of not saying your name is when people say, “Do you remember where you met me?” or “I bet you don’t remember where we met!”
What is this, a quiz show? Testing people’s memories in this way sends panic into people’s hearts and their brain freezes up. I’m so worried I’m going to disappoint you or seem rude. It’s a game that makes nobody happy. Isn’t the whole point of socializing to make people feel good and comfortable, not on their heels and defensive?
Once you say you give up, they always say something ridiculous like “Summer camp! When we were thirteen!”
Oh, boy! Now, how am I expected, with the amount of information I have had to take in since I was thirteen years old, to remember my old bunkmate?
Of course, if you’re the host of a party, it’s incumbent upon you to introduce everybody to everyone else. You can do it any way that makes you feel comfortable, but everyone at the gathering needs to be introduced. I like to ask people what their first job was or ask something that is germane to the occasion. At a friend’s birthday party, I went around and asked everyone to share his or her very first memory of our friend. It was pretty special to hear all our first impressions of the same person.
Another skill I was taught in sixth grade is the art of conversation. If you find yourself in any social situation, it’s important to be ready to ask a few thoughtful questions. I like questions like “What’s your dream job?” “What did you think you were going to be when you were in third grade?” “How different is your life than how you imagined it?” “Who is your favorite Spice Girl?” “If you could have anyone at your birthday party, who would it be?”
Betty-isms
My mother, Betty, is about as wise a guru as I’ve encountered in this life. She does not tolerate whining or sad-sacking, yet she is infinitely compassionate, always eager to try to share some of the lessons she’s gleaned from living a full life. You’ll be having a normal, everyday conversation, and then all of a sudden she’ll casually say something so smart and so true that it could be on a greeting card or in a fortune cookie—or tattooed on your skin. I’ve stopped short of writing them on my body, but I do keep them at the back of my mind and call on them often, especially when I am—or someone I love is—struggling. I call them “Betty-isms.” Here are some of my favorites:
1. Your job is your life insurance.
2. If you want something done, do it yourself—or ask another woman.
3. If you want love and companionship, buy a dog.
4. A bigger house won’t make you happier, you’ll just have more to clean.
5. If you want to meet a man, go to Home Depot (or a sports bar).
6. You won’t meet any friends on your couch.
7. To have a good friend, be a good friend.
8. If it looks like a duck and walks like a duck, it’s probably a duck.
9. Don’t put a fox in charge of a henhouse.
10. The best things in life are not things.
Whenever my girlfriend from Chattanooga, Tennessee, has a party, she always makes each guest say something nice about the guest seated to his or her left. At her parties, you will notice a lot of people trying very hard not to sit with certain people on their left! Sometimes it’s tough to say something nice about somebody you just met, but it forces you to say that, for example, he or she has a nice smile or a beautiful shirt. It’s a great icebreaker.
Another good question is “What’s your secret talent?”
Southern Expressions You Need to Know
“MAKE A SOW’S EAR INTO A SILK PURSE”
Make the best of any situation
“PITCHING A HISSY FIT”
Having a temper tantrum
“MADDER THAN A WET HEN”
(Pretty obvious)
“CATTYWAMPUS” OR “WHOPPERJAWED”
Crooked
“HAD A SIT-TO”
Talked to someone sternly
“GAVE HIM (OR HER) WHAT FOR”
Yelled at someone angrily
“THAT DOG CAN’T HUNT”
That person is useless
“PIDDLIN’ ”
Pathetic
“I’M FIT TO BE TIED”
You’ve had enough
“BLESS YOUR HEART!”
This expression is quintessentially southern. It can mean a lot of different things, from “You poor thing” to “You can’t help messing up, can you?” to “You’re the best.” Don’t worry, the tone of voice will tell you which version is meant!
I have a good one that you might not guess right away: I’m an excellent bowler. I mean, I don’t want to brag, but it’s an objective fact. I have a gift. We bowled every Friday night as kids. Our dad took me and my brother to the bowling alley while our mom worked the night shift, and I practiced and practiced until I got great. And to this day, every time I find myself in a bowling alley it all comes back to me. Seriously, I have to tone it down for kids’ parties so I don’t crush the children’s dreams.
Once you get started, it’s easy to have a good party conversation because most people love to talk about themselves. If you’re curious at all, you can find something interesting or valuable in anyone. My mother taught me this. She could talk to a brick wall for three and a half hours. When I was a kid, it used to drive me crazy. We would go to the grocery store. While the cashier would be ringing up the groceries, my mom would start chatting with her. Fifteen minutes later, I’d be like, “Mom, she doesn’t really care what you think about the new hospital administrator or the cold snap or the football game! Let’s go home so she can get back to doing her job.”
But these days, I find it charming. My mother is such a good conversationalist that she can find a common interest with literally anybody, from a gas station attendant to a movie star, just because she has a deep interest in people’s lives.
Talkin’ Southern
Now: a word on the way we talk in the South. You know, when I was growing up, I had no idea that I had an accent. It wasn’t until I started traveling that I began getting teased about the way I talked—and not just the twang but also the phrases. We have expressions and euphemisms that you don’t hear anywhere else. They sound so normal to me, but I’ll say them outside the context of the South, and people will look at me like I’m insane.
“Oh my gosh,” I say all the time. “He was like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockers.”
“People don’t have the sense God gave them.”
“Fixing to” when you’re about to do something.
And more than anything else, I double up on the verb “to do,” as in “Yeah, he did do” or “You done did it.”
My husband, who is from Pittsburgh, is like, “What are you talking about?” My kids call it my did-do language. They can’t understand a word of it, but it makes perfect sense to me. I mean, why would you did do what you already did done?
A Pronunciation Key
Pimento cheese is a southern delicacy, but northerners almost always pronounce it wrong, as “Pah-mento.” The real way to say it is “Puh-minna.” And, while we’re at it: it’s pe-CAHN, not PEE-can; HEW-ston, not HOW-ston. A pen is a “pi-un.” Here are a few others. When in doubt, add an extra syllable.
WORD
SOUTHERN PRONUNCIATION
all
awl
battery
bat-tree
>
boil
bol
can’t
cain’t
eat
ate
fellow
fellah
fork
fok
Georgia
Jawjuh
get you
gitcha
government
gubbamint
heater
hater
lawyer
law-yer or loy-er
marry
murry or mare
month
mont
on
own
red
ray-ed
school
schule
situation
sichy-ayshun
spoon
spu-un
tire
tarre
barbed wire
bob-ware
before
be-fow-ah
business
bid-ness
chicken
chick-un
egg muffin
egg-a-muffin
fire
faar
four, for
fow-wah
get
git
going to
gonna
hair
her
isn’t it
idnit
like
Whiskey in a Teacup Page 11