The Mind of the South

As a native Southerner, I was bowled over by the profound truths contained in this book. It strips away the legend of the South and shows the reality behind it. One of Cash's main tenets is that the South never changes, it just adapts to new times. This makes the book somewhat repetitive, as each era of history is essentially just a variation of the past. Also, this book was written before the Civil Rights Movement. I would have loved to know how Cash would have changed his opinion of the South after desegregation. Even though it is somewhat dated, this is still a book that every American should read. The South matters, and this book provides a key to understanding it.

The nature of a people is seldom easy to describe because the attempt is often sabotaged by either the Outsider's incorrect perceptions or the Insider's preconceptions, depending on which is constructing the definition. What we find with W.J. Cash's The Mind of the South is no different, although it is a pleasant journey. Sparkling with some of the most fluid prose ever found in historical writing, Cash's work deserves recognition for this reason alone; yet there is value in the exposition itself, even if it forgets a full two-thirds of the South's population in its description (blacks and women). What the modern reader is left with, then, is not so much a description of the "the southern mind" as it is "the white southern male mind." And while Cash's work does not quite apologize for the many neuroses of that mind, it does attempt to explain the effects it has had on our perception of the American South, with a small dash of glory added for good measure. First, it is important for us to take into account the wonderful introduction to the work by Bertram Wyatt-Brown. Wyatt-Brown shows that Cash's battle with depression was a salient part in understanding his interpretation of the South, as was his upbringing. Wyatt-Brown seems to agree with my assessment on the Insider/Outsider effect: "The origins of Cash's interpretation of his culture and region lay not only in the objective fact of Southern intransigence about issues of race and change, but in the very makeup of his mind. Like so many creative depressives, he stood apart from the society around him. Such a position of detachment can provide a special angle of vision that those immersed in society cannot obtain (Cash xxvii)." Wyatt-Brown, with this statement, makes Cash an outside-Insider, by virtue of his being a manic depressive. He is a southerner, and therefore capable of the same preconceptions of his own people as any southerner; however, according to Wyatt-Brown, by reason of his mental condition, he is elevated away from this status and into a new status altogether, a presumably better one. I would agree with this, if the work itself is to be taken as proof. Cash is capable of wonderful insights into his own culture and society. However - and this is crucial! - we must not gloss over the fact that by omitting women and blacks from his work, Cash loses some credibility. It is here, it seems, that Cash could not escape the Insider mentality. This work is characterized by one over-arching theme: southern culture, though as elusive in most respects as any other, is penetrated throughout with one defining and collective temperament. In essence, this work is interpretative rather than linear, as it attempts to analyze rather than delineate. This elevates Cash from the traditional historian (in the mold of Clement Eaton) to sociologist or social commentator (in the mold of David Halberstam). That is not to say that Cash does not know his history or pilfers it from others; it seems

Cash ultimately committed suicide because he was torn between (and fell between the stools of) a) critiquing his beloved South, and b) defending his beloved South. On balance, I think he makes excellent. insightful, and SUPERB points! At a minimum, he establishes that only Southern men are real men. (And all the Yankees are tutti-frutti's!)

For Boomer aged Southerners, there was no formal Southern history. At school you got Yankee cant; at home you got Lost Cause and Jim Crow. That doesn't fit the Chamber of Commerce image of cities too busy to hate, but that was the reality for all but the most miniscule minority of white Southerners. Through public school and college in The South, I never had a word from Southern thinkers with the minor exception of Faulkner - not much of a thinker, but a good describer.Cash was my introduction to Southern intellectual history, and by the time I found him I was far from the South in both space and time. I can feel Cash in my very bones; a dose of Tom Watson populism, a dose of Mencken's cynicism, and a whole bunch of the self-loathing that a defeated and impoverished people wore like tattered old clothes every day. Some neo-Southerners call Cash a South-hater, but they miss the point; Cash wanted desperately to love The South, but could find little to love except myth. You get much the same with Woodward, though in finer clothes. "Strange Career" is nothing but myth, yet it propelled Woodward to the heights of the Academy. The key to both these books is that they are Yankee approved mythology. The publishing houses are not on Peachtree Street, they are on 5th Avenue. For anyone wishing to begin exploration of Southern thought, Cash, the Nashville Agrarians, and Strange Career are the places to start. If you go no further, you won't know anything about The South, but to go further, you must start here.