Reviewed by: The Language of Vision: Photography and Southern Literature in the 1930s and After by Joseph R. Millichap Bridget Smith Pieschel The Language of Vision: Photography and Southern Literature in the 1930s and After, by Joseph R. Millichap. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2016. 163 pp. preface, notes, bibliography, index. $40 hardcover. Joseph R. Millichap’s The Language of Vision takes its title from Walker Evans’s essay “Photography”: “The meaning of quality in photography’s best pictures lies written in the language of vision” (ix). Millichap’s insightful chronological analysis of the interrelation between southern photography and southern literature provides a new lens through which to view southern writers who have used the “complementary languages of photography and literature” in artistic conversation (xiii). The first chapter is an overview of the earliest southern photography collections, with an astute discussion of the connection between southern photography and southern literary themes of death, nostalgia, and loss, Millichap selects representative artists for chapters two through seven, concluding in the current century. Some readers will be disappointed to discover that this book is not illustrated with any of the discussed photographs. However, Millichap explains that securing rights to so many photographs was expensive, as was the prohibitive cost of printing an illustrated book. Instead Millichap is careful to provide references to where the photographs may be viewed electronically. As a result, the reader has access not only to the photographs he analyzes, but to others by the same artists. He begins his analysis with a Depression-era collaboration: Walker Evans and James Agee’s iconic Let Us Now Praise Famous Men. Millichap asserts that this work specifically illustrates the intertextuality of genres and the value of like minds. Millichap says that the men had very different artistic visions, but that “the pair complemented each other almost perfectly in personality and practice, so much so that each could accept the other’s vision and integrate it with his own” (30). This chapter explores the differences between the first edition and the second edition, which includes twice as many of Evans’s photographs. Millichap asserts that these differences result from Agee’s initial confusion [End Page 297] about doing the photographic narrative justice, while attempting to write an unconnected narrative of his own. Millichap explains that this tension resulted in a first edition which is “spatial” because of Evans’s “family album” organization of the photographs, but that the 1960 text is “narrative” or chronological, because Evans has the family pictures contextualized within settings—towns, hamlets, houses, and barns (34). The chapter on William Faulkner focuses on Pylon, The Wild Palms, and Go Down, Moses, which Millichap asserts are “less often considered” within “the informing dialectic of cultural representation” he describes in his first chapter (45). Instead, Millichap says these novels illustrate Faulkner’s “complicated balance between subjective modernism and documentary realism” (46). In a close analysis of the photographic tropes Faulkner uses, Millichap references the influential publication of WPA photographs which Faulkner would have seen and appreciated for their realism. Next, Millichap addresses Robert Penn Warren’s short fiction, novels, and poetry. His scrutiny of Warren is particularly rich and comprehensive. For example, he analyzes the literal and figurative presence of photography through the eyes of a reporter in Warren’s All the King’s Men. Willie Stark, the demagogue who is always in the glare of news reporters’ flash bulbs, stages “domestic images” to shape a populist persona (75). In A Place to Come To, Millichap points out that Warren’s narrator directly references Walker Evans’s Depression-era photographs of poor southerners. Millichap states that in this later novel, photography is both literal and metaphorical, and in both cases directly shapes plot and theme. The two chapters on Eudora Welty and Ralph Ellison are very thoughtful. Millichap examines Welty’s actual photographs taken during her work as a WPA writer, suggesting that Welty distanced herself from the WPA official photographers, who were chiefly northern white males. According to Millichap, Welty’s photographs are “cultural documents” illustrating the “conflicted binaries of gender, race and class” (89). Millichap also skillfully addresses photographic tropes as “modernist intertextualities” in...
Read full abstract