EMDAT

I suspected that we might be Oxford-bound, but I wasn’t sure. Once we headed west out of Tuscaloosa, that narrowed the possibilities a good bit, but I was still thinking it could also be either the Mississippi Delta or Memphis, either of which would have been a good time as well.

As it turned out, we arrived in Oxford around a bit before noon on Saturday, and our first stop was Rowan Oak, the home of William Faulkner. As both a southern historian and a historian of the South, it’s actually quite embarassing for me to admit that I have never read Faulkner, but it’s true. I’ve always wanted to, but I’ve just never gotten around to it. I think this may finally push me to do it. The house (pictured above) is surprisingly sparse. It’s a pretty old Greek Revival with some neat little nooks and crannies, but in terms of furnishings, it’s not what you might expect. Faulkner had a nice library and an office/writing room, but the relative dearth of books was a bit baffling. I suppose much of his library is probably housed in an archive somewhere, but it was a bit refreshing that he enjoyed reading mystery novels (there was a stack of them next to his bed). This makes me feel less guilty about reading contemporary (read: non-literary) fiction.

After checking out Rowan Oak, we headed downtown to the historic square for lunch. Probably the greatest thing about Oxford is that it has the very cliche “courthouse square” seen in many southern towns. In most such towns, however, the square is virtually dead these days. Not so in Oxford. It is a thriving agora lined with bars, boutiques, and bookstores, not to mention some fantastic restaurants. And yes, there is a Confederate monument in the center. Erected in 1907 by the United Daughters of the Confederacy.

For lunch, we decided on City Grocery, which serves “eclectic new Southern cuisine.” If by “eclectic new Southern cuisine.” We chose a couple of sandwiches, but these were not your your father’s ham and cheeses. Emily had a turkey and havarti on a croissant with a fried egg and dijon mustard. Very good. I had a fried chicken breast on a herb biscuit with caramelized onions and a molasses aioli. Three words: oh. my. God. It was quite simply one of the most delicious creations I’ve ever eaten. As if that weren’t enough, we shared a slice of chocolate-peanut butter pie that left us both wanting more.

After lunch, we walked down to the appropriately-named Square Books, whose owner just so happens to be the mayor of Oxford. This is one of the best, not to mention largest, independent bookstores I’ve ever visited. I think I could have spent hours there. On the second floor, there is a balcony that runs the length of the building along a side street where you can sit outside and look toward the square while reading your book and drinking your beverage of choice. Of course, it was too cold for that this weekend, but I imagine that in the late spring and fall, it’s a beautiful place.

They also have a fairly extensive collection of signed first editions (and have been running a monthly signed first editions “club” since 1979). In fact, I happened upon a signed first edition of what is perhaps my favorite book, Blood Done Sign My Name, which I know I’ve mentioned on this blog before. Having just passed my M.A. comps, I felt it appropriate to purchase a signed copy of the book that inspires me to be a better historian.

Another block or so away are two more off-shoots of Square Books, known as Off-Square Books and Square, Jr. The former is somewhat misleading, given that it, too, is actually on the square, but their inventory consists primarily of used books and publishers’ remainders. Very nice. I picked up three books there, two of which I’ve been wanting to read for some time. Square, Jr., as you might imagine, is a children’s bookstore. Emily and I didn’t wander in, but given my experience in the other two stores, I’m sure it’s pretty awesome as well.

After we had our fill of bookstores, we headed to the hotel, which was located on the campus of Ole Miss. After resting our tired and weary feet for an hour or so, we ventured out for a quick view of the campus. We didn’t see much actually, except for the Lyceum and the Grove (the Ole Miss equivalent of the Rotunda and the Lawn, respectively). I think it must have been spring break, because the campus was almost eerily quiet.

Emily suggested that we check out the tiny town of Taylor, about seven miles south of Oxford, so we did. It’s home to a folk art community and the “Taylor Grocery.” Why these people are so fond of calling their restaurants “groceries,” I do not know, but Taylor grocery is a small catfish restaurant where they allow you to bring your own brown bag. Pretty sweet. Driving by, it looked like a total dump, but I bet it’s phenomenal. We didn’t eat there, but we did stop by the Taylor arts center and check out some of their very cool work. We even contemplated purchasing a fish–or rather, a hunk of cypress painted to resemble a fish. In the end, we couldn’t justify spending $50 on art, especially when neither of us has a job lined up, but I still sort of want that fish.

From there, we headed back to the hotel and then walked back down to the square for dinner and drinks. After a pretty good dinner at Old Venice Pizza Co., we headed to the upstairs bar of City Grocery, where we watched the Duke/UNC basketball game and I imbibed several bourbon & cokes. (Can’t beat that on your birthday.) When we were finally ready to stumble back to the hotel, we walked outside only to discover the shuttle from our hotel parked right out front! We didn’t even realize it was running, but we hopped in and could not believe our good fortune.

The next morning, we nibbled on a mediocre continental breakfast at the hotel before heading to the world-famous (OK, maybe not world-famous, but locally famous) Bottletree Bakery, which just so happens to be featured in this month’s issue of Southern Living. It did not disappoint. Emily had the largest cinnamon roll either of us had ever seen, topped with enough icing to kill a diabetic. I couldn’t decide what to order and eventually compromised, ordering a sausage biscuit (with what I think was locally-made sausage) and breakfast foccacia–essentially, a huge chunk of foccacia bread topped with scrambled eggs, chopped-up bacon, and cheese. Both were delicious. I really wanted to try a blueberry muffin, but I simply didn’t have room.

All in all, it was a great weekend. I loved Oxford, and actually sort of regret not applying to graduate school there. I thought about it, but for reasons I can’t fully remember, I decided not to pursue it. Alas. I’ve (more or less) enjoyed my time in Tuscaloosa, and my professors here have by and large been terrific, but in terms of the culture of the town, it can’t hold a candle to Oxford. Most importantly to me, Oxford is a relatively small, yet bookish town, and for me, that’s perfect.

A quick story to illustrate this point: Saturday evening, Emily and I sat at the bar at City Grocery for a couple of hours. One of the bartenders there looked to be in his early- to mid-thirties, but we didn’t really talk to him or anything. Sunday morning, we’re at Bottletree Bakery (where they have a long, low bar in addition to tables), and the woman sitting next to Emily–who had been reading The New Yorker (you don’t see that in Tuscaloosa)–gets up to leave. And who should sit down next to her but the bartender from the night before, with a copy of the Bible and Thomas Paine’s Common Sense. I was like “That’s my kind of bartender.”

To make a long story short, if you have the opportunity to visit Oxford, take it.