Randall Kenan--a novelist whose fictional town of Tim's Creek is predicted to become almost as renowned as William Faulkner's Jefferson in Yoknapatawpha County--is the newest member of the University of Mississippi's Southern Writer in Residence Program established by author John Grisham and his wife, Renee. Kenan, who teaches writing at Sarah Lawrence College and Columbia University, has joined the Department of English as a visiting professor of creative writing for the fall semester. The appointment enables him to teach one graduate level course in creative writing and to concentrate on his own work. In addition, he is scheduled for readings and other public appearances throughout the semester.
Kenan is the author of the novel A Visitation of Spirits and the short story collection Let The Dead Bury Their Dead, which was nominated for the 1992 National Book Critics Circle Award in Fiction. Typical of the critical praise for his work is the following comment from the New York Times Book Review: "Fiercely and relentlessly, hilariously and sympathetically, Randall Kenan unfolds layer upon layer of the interlocked existences of his Tim's Creek citizens. . . . he has created, in a single obscure hamlet, a deeply and peculiarly American community, as memorable as any in recent fiction."
Recently, when asked about the connections between his fictional Tim's Creek and Yoknapatawpha County, Kenan readily acknowledged Faulkner's legacy but he also quoted Flannery O'Connor's observation--"Nobody wants to be on the tracks when the Dixie Special comes barreling through"--and said that "being in Oxford is somewhat intimidating. But I feel awful welcome, too."
Asked about other writers who have influenced him and about Terry McMillan's calling him "our black Marquez," Kenan replied that "Terry was very generous and sweet to say that about me, and yes, Gabriel Garcia Marquez was and is an enormous influence on my state of being, my way of looking at the world. When I first read his work, it was like looking into a mirror. But more importantly, it told me that the way I had been looking at the world was not totally bizarre and irrelevant but valid in some way. American writing, and Southern writing in particular, has been long dominated by what academics call "realism." I grew up with a world view that did not necessarily fall easily into that category. My encounters with Marquez and other Latin American writers--and Jewish and Japanese and Italian writers--gave me faith in my own vision. That was enormously important in my development."
In regard to being labeled a "Southern" "black" writer, Kenan responded: "I grew up in North Carolina and my skin is the color of coffee without cream. To me it's silly to assume that I can be anything other than a Southern, black writer. Even if I wrote science fiction I would be a "Southern" "black" writer. The question becomes, then, if I am a writer of the South and about the South, or a writer of blackness? I hope these notions are borne out in my work. Am I only a "black" writer? Am I only a "Southern" writer? I think that some people believe that a writer is limited by these labels, and in some cases these narrowing gazes become true. However, I never take them seriously. Which is to say that I am a human being first, a writer second, and black always. I'm still trying to figure out the Southern part; but I think all Southerners after 1863 are trying to do the same. That's what makes it so rich and fascinating."
Kenan also talked about teaching creative writing. "I was very fortunate to have a master teacher at Chapel Hill when I studied there. His name was Max Steele. He was arrogant, funny, mean, and a genius, all of which I found irresistible. Everything I use in my writing classes, essentially, stems from his instruction with me. He believed, and I believe, that certain things can be taught to a beginning writer, things which will save a writer time--short cuts, so to speak. I am referring to things such as point of view, building scenes, character development, how to write good dialogue. These elements are simply craft, and yes, craft can be taught. But there is another element to writing, something that separates the competent from the tremendous, and that cannot be taught. Max always said that talent has to do with being able to tell the truth. It sounds simple, but the more you contemplate it, the more you realize how difficult it can be to tell the truth about the things that are most important to you. This element, I believe, cannot be taught. That leap is up to the individual, and we are generally less willing to take that leap than not."
Kenan said he is enjoying his teaching at the University. "Some of my students this semester are wacky, some are green as cucumbers, and I have three who are Vietnam vets. We are all having an extraordinary time, and they are teaching me probably more than I could ever teach them. You see, I know an awful lot about sentences and point of view and character and dialogue and such--but they know a great deal about life. For that I am truly grateful."
Oxford is a good place for him to write. "I have finished a book I've been working on for five years and am well into a new novel, and I blame it all on Oxford. It is among the most tranquil of towns. I hope to finish this draft of 'The Fire and the Baptism,' and then figure out what the heck I'm going to do with the rest of my life--but aren't we all."
Kenan is the fifth Southern Writer in Residence funded by the Grishams. Previous participants were T. R. Pearson, Mark Richard, Mary Hood, and Tim Gautreaux.
Linda Peal White