Elizabeth Spencer (1) (1921–2019)

Upon reflection, I changed my rating to four stars, because this is one HELL of a perfect psychological study of parenting. And it's short, at just over 100 pages. AND it takes place in lovely, picturesque Florence.

Your child has suffered brain damage, of which she is unaware -- but you are fully aware of her truncated chance for a happy, fulfilled life. When she falls in love with a boy who clearly loves her in return, what do you do? To what lengths will you go to secure her happiness? And to what lengths will you go to relieve your own burdens?

An amazing little book that packs a punch.… (more)

I wanted to love this book, written in the early 1950s. Unanimously chosen by the Pulitzer Prize jurors as the best novel published in 1956, it wasn't awarded the prize by the Columbia University Trustees, who have the final say. They said nothing. While I know nothing of the trustees in 1956-7, it suits me to picture them as all white men, the generals of business, banking, and industry, Masters of the Universe (though Tom Wolfe was decades from coining that phrase). But still reluctant to endorse this indictment of Southern Culture, this roiling of...mmm…"the race issue". This...erm...exposé was not to be condoned.

Elizabeth Spencer's third novel depicts a dry Mississippi county whose voters must elect a sheriff because the office-holder has died. He departed this life in a grocery store in the town of Lacey, where he'd gone—knowing his life was expiring—to endorse its proprietor as his successor. That man, Duncan Harper, is a local, a low-key man who was, nonetheless, the greatest running back in Mississippi football history.

The sheriff expects Harper will maintain his policies, but Harper is intent on enforcing the county's ban on liquor sales and is supportive of rights for Blacks. As interim sheriff, Harper personally busts a bootlegger. The bootlegger is a life-long friend who has always loved the woman Harper is married to. With the help of a local Black, Harper is set up so his views on race will be publicized in the county and beyond. Then the bootlegger is shot, and rumor quickly spreads that the shooter was Black, that Harper knows who he is and where he is, but that he's covering for him. The victim won't say who shot him. In only a few weeks, Harper's electoral support evaporates. Still, he remains interim sheriff and he continues to investigate the shooting.

As the story unfolds, Lacey society reveals itself as implacably segregationist. The mob rules, but it's easily manipulated. Familiar ring, isn't it?

What is shocking to contemporary readers is the endless, casual use of the n-word. You have to understand that in 1953, not only in the South, but throughout the country, it was a commonly used word. To really appreciate how oppressive the racial climate was, you have to immerse yourself in the conversation of the time. I think it's an essential element of the history, the culture, the story.

Spencer grew up in Mississippi, a member of a socially elite family, living on a plantation with an army of Black servants. It was after receiving a Guggenheim grant that allowed her to retreat to Italy that she was able to confront her own upbringing and write her novel of repudiation. Thereafter, she lived and worked in Italy, London, and Montreal, returning to the South (to Durham, NC) only in 1986.

So did I love [The Voice at the Back Door]? Not really. But I do like it and I admire it. I think it deserved the Pulitzer. I view it as an accurate reflection of an unsavory culture in the 1950s.… (more)