Perfect for when you need to feel depressed and Southern, and you need it fast. It's cathartic if, you know, you get catharsis from miserable people being even more miserable. Patent proof that bad things happen to good and bad people, and that God and ordinary folks can be some real mean sumbitches sometimes.

But O'Connor does a bang-up job making it feel real. She's a gorgeous and laser-focused writer, and brings your racist-ass neighbor to life. O'Connor has a peculiar Catholic affinity for the brow-beaten S.O.B.s. And she takes no glee in knocking the shit out of casual racists and dirtbags -- almost every story ends with them receiving a destructive, awful, and violating truth.

Sometimes it felt a little too much, and there's a few stories that are noticeably lightweights ("The Comforts of Home," while a buzzkill, feels downright cozy compared to the horrific "A View of the Woods"). And O'Connor sure likes to take the Southern scenic route while beating around the bush. But I certainly can't say I didn't kinda enjoy it.


...

I originally rated this 4, but half a year later, I have done something I very rarely do and placed O'Connor's work where it belonged all along at 5 stars. Because even for its shortcomings, it lingers so desperately in the back of my mind. Those warmed over languished lines, "Mother, I am dying!", eat at me more than the Bible.