Yet I have long felt that sometimes too much emphasis is placed on cities. Perhaps it is because I have lived much of my life in a semi-rural Southern exurb of Nashville, Tennessee, but I often find rural landscapes to contain more potentially "weird" elements than cityscapes. If you take a leisurely drive through certain regions (the American South in my biased opinion being better suited for this than most other areas), you may encounter haunting images such as this:
The past two generations have seen a huge sea-shift in the local economy. Due to successive waves of crop busts, barns such as this one pictured above were abandoned. Note how quickly it has been overtopped by the invasive kudzu plant. There is something almost terrifying about this image. No matter what we build, no matter the intentions of its builders, things quickly decay and are swamped by nature here. Yet in many of the contemporary fictions that I read today, there is a relative underuse of this sort of imagery. Or what about this common sight below, that of the closed country store:
There is a history to be told within its rotting planks and peeling paint. The little weather-worn US flag stuck into the split side of a leaning pillar. The beaten tin awning serves as mute testimony to the wearing and tearing of weather and time. Every time I pass such a store, house, or barn, I envision ghosts inhabiting them, forming a substratum that goes deep into my native region's past.
|This picture is of the Glass Mounds, near Franklin, TN, or 30 miles from where I grew up.|
I am aware of the 19th century Romantics using ruins and desolate, rural landscapes to convey images of yearning, loss, and obliteration. Yet today I find myself wishing there would be more who would utilize rural 'scapes, both the physical and the cultural/historical, when creating narratives that seek to plumb the depths of our dreams, fears, and nightmares. Maybe it's just that there aren't many regions outside the American South (somehow, I don't believe this to be true) that contain such a plethora of haunting images. I know I cannot read a William Faulkner or Flannery O'Connor tale without seeing decay, both in the buildings and in the human spirit, on display. Yet their fictions are not usually considered to contain many (or any) similarities with weird/surrealist writings, despite the potential found within the descriptions of the native landscapes and their effect on the natives.
Maybe I'm overlooking something. Maybe someone can point out recent use of the rural 'scapes as a counterpoint to the urban landscape representing elements of human society and identity. All I know is that now that autumn is looming, I find myself thinking more about the inherent unsettling decay of the landscape around me.