Perhaps it is the long, lonely winters; perhaps it is the isolation of the great farms. Whatever the reason, Iowa is a state of profound quiet. The first time the Southern novelist Allan Gurganus went to a dinner party there, he grew uncomfortable at the long silences around the table — two minutes, then three, then four, when the only sound he heard was “fresh corn being masticated by molars around the room.”

And yet, in those silences in a state where Robert Frost said the rich soil “looks good enough to eat without putting it through vegetables,” deep mysteries fester, and bitter rebellions, too.

David M. Shribman is the former executive editor of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.

0
0
0
0
0

Recommended for you

Thank you for reading!

Please log in, or sign up for a new account and purchase a subscription to read or post comments.