If
you read for plot, you might not get much out of Delta Wedding .
The
story follows the Fairchild family as they gather and make preparations for the
wedding of their second oldest daughter to the overseer of the family
plantation- a suitor that all of them see as being beneath her. There is little
real-time tension beyond the little recurring worries that certain preparations
might not pan out in time (will the Shepardess Crooks ordered specially from
Memphis for the bridesmaids make it in time?! Inquiring minds want to know!).
Actually,
the most interesting plot points are past events that continue to lurk just
beneath the surface: the marriage of George, the family’s favorite uncle, to a lowly
storekeeper (again, a marriage far below the Fairchilds’ vaunted station), the early
death of an aunt and mother, and the movements of the family between their
various estates. And at the center of it all is a near-tragedy on a picnic
outing, where George stays in front of an oncoming train to help a mentally
disabled cousin get her foot loose from the railroad tracks- an event that has resonance
because that day cemented the romance of the young bride and the overseer, but
also because it threatens to destroy George’s own marriage.
But
these subplots only come to us in glimpses. The real reason to read this book
is for the rich characterization, the complex tapestry of family relationships
and the unforgettable sense of place- which almost stands in as one of the
chief characters- (“The bayou had a warm breath, like a person.”)
Welty
is undoubtedly a masterful writer. My only previous experience with her is the
short story “Where is the Voice Coming From,” which recounts in first-person the
tragic death of Medgar Evers, from the point of view of his racist murderer. It’s
hard to believe the same woman wrote both pieces. I probably won’t be
recommending Delta Wedding to friends and family, and probably won’t
re-read myself it any time soon, but I can already tell it’s a book I’ll be
thinking about for a long time to come. And maybe that’s the only mark of a
great book that matters.
