In and around Oxford, Miss., about three decades ago, it wasn’t uncommon to drive along a rural route and pass a car with a bumper sticker that said, “I’d rather be reading Airships.” The people in those cars tended to have their windows rolled down, and they looked awfully happy. These were the kind of free and literate souls, with their muddy boots and eyeglasses, that a bar-stool sociologist might call liberal rednecks. Someone slapped a copy of that bumper sticker on William Faulkner’s grave in Oxford. No one thought it vandalism.
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