A review by yulelogue
Deep South: Four Seasons on Back Roads by Paul Theroux

1.0

Hoo boy, is the word count here unlimited?

This is an incredibly problematic book on a number counts and it's hard not to question what sort of editorial support he had when he delivered his draft. Who read this with the publishing house and thought "OK, this will work!"?

First and foremost, this is a very drab, dull and unrevealing book. I'm unsure of the author's plan, if he thought he'd hit the road in the deep south, find some characters and just write down what they said, and that didn't happen. It seems he sought out community outreach organizations to talk about poverty. He always asks to meet the people these organizations are helping, but only once or twice does he do this (I'm unsure if he just didn't write about it or the meetings never happened). It is interesting that man who owns houses in Hawaii and Cape Cod was trying to talk to people who couldn't find a house in Alabama or Louisiana.

Two, there's race. He wanted to write a book about race. Or he wanted to write a book about the "n" word. Maybe both. In between two chapters, he has a mini-chapters where he writes about the "n" word. Theroux is white, for the record. This diatribe ends with the always fruitful "why do black hip hop artists get to use the 'n' word?" and then he decries Harvard University, a college he didn't go to, introducing a course of study in hip hop.

As an editorial choice (surely), he rarely, if ever, identifies his interviewees by their race, which typically isn't a big deal if this book weren't about race. Only do we learn the person's race when they reveal that they grew up in segregated neighborhoods or schools. In a later chapter, he inexplicably asks some farm workers (who we assume are black) if they've been called the "n" word. In an early chapter, he writes about driving to an interview and being late. He enters the office, admittedly grinning and admittedly not sorry for being late. The interviewee is upset with him for not necessarily being late or not being sorry about it, but for the "white privilege" of thinking neither mattered. This book was put together in 2012-14 or so, so it's likely this is the first time the idea of "white privilege" is entered Theroux's brain pan. He is taken aback and cannot understand the conflict. Boy, that lady gave him a tongue lashing. In another scene, a woman is complaining of systemic inequality and racism. Theroux responds, "What about the Constitution?"

It's not that he's backwards or a bigot. The thesis behind this trek for Theroux is to come to terms with the woe and want of the South that has existed his entire life while he worked in the Peace Corps in impoverished Africa and Asia. The idea being perhaps people in his own country needed assistance just as much as any starving people overseas.

In a chapter set largely in Arkansas, he goes around asking people why the foundation founded by Bill Clinton does send funds to his home state, instead diverting it to Africa. He literally asks everyone "Would you accept funds from the Clinton Foundation?" He does it so much he literally mentions not mentioning it again.

It's a book of troublesome conclusions and questions. Racism didn't end in 1972 and it's not stopped by the Constitution. And you get the real idea that the author believes this idea. That he didn't need to help the South because it was all solved by the Civil Rights Act or Brown vs. The Board of Education.

Other troublesome spots: At one point he details the anti-semitism in many southern rights groups and how they use the bible to support their ideas. Then in the same breath he ties that into seeing female Mennonites with hair coverings, and how that custom is supported in the New Testament. But he doesn't appear to know what Mennonites are or if they're even real.

Upon hearing a man of 71 being referred to as "elderly," Theroux scoffs at the idea of being old. The problem: The reference was of a man of 71 and his granddaughter being hit and killed by a motorist.

In another mini-chapter, he writes effusively about southern writers. All white. And clearly admitting he didn't mention any black writers, he includes a paragraph on the end about black writers. Just rewrite it all. He also fails to really talk about southern food, music, customs, the Civil War, Reconstruction, the Great Migration and basically any major historical event in the South.

Finally, my final gripe, he begins using phonetics in quoting people to accentuate the accents. For the next 400 pages he probably does just one or two times. I think that's something you got to do throughout or not at all. Furthermore, a vast majority of quotes he gets from interviewees appear to be polished up. Most sound like a public relations writer got a hold of them. I assume he cleaned them up to support his conversational approach. It is very disingenuous. Anyway, don't read this book. It's garbage.