I finished reading Taps: a Novel by Willie Morris last night. Actually, to be more accurate, it was early this morning. I had been working on it for a while now, sneaking in a partial chapter at lunch (Morris seems to prefer long chapters), or while waiting at the doctor’s office, or while Sharon perused clothing in a store while I waited in the car and read. Life has been busy lately, and I don’t get as much reading time as I’d like. Somewhere around the midpoint of this 338 page novel (a point I reached Saturday while sitting in the car waiting outside the dress shop), Willie Morris managed to get his characters so thoroughly embedded in my imagination that it was hard to put the book down to drive (though Sharon insisted). Last night, I probably wouldn’t have been able to sleep if I hadn’t finished, and finish I did, around one o’clock in the morning, in tears.

Taps is a powerful yet tender story of a young man coming of age during the Korean war in the small Mississippi delta town of Fisk’s Landing. Sixteen-year old Swayze Barksdale is pressed into the solemn duty of playing “Taps” at the funerals of the young men who perished on the Korean battlefields. Swayze’s father had died some years before, leaving him with a neurotic mother who taught tap dancing and occasionally drank too much. At a time in his life when young Swayze most needed the counsel and guidance of a wise man, Swayze was fatherless, sickly and surrounded by tap dancing women.

His unexpected call to duty thrust Swayze into new situations and new relationships, at times hilarious and at others tragic, always thought provoking and real. Willie Morris did a masterful job of opening Swayze’s heart to the reader, accurately depicting the inner thought life and sometimes gut-wrenching emotions of this boy on the cusp of manhood. Gradually, Swayze learns about some of the stark realities of life, some taught by his experience with the WWII vets and funeral workers with whom he serves, some by young men who came home from the war maimed and scarred, and some by the young men who returned to Fisk’s Landing in steel gray boxes with official documents attached. In the course of the year, Swayze learns what it means to be a true patriot, to serve selflessly even to the point of death. He learns about being a son, a friend, and a lover. Swayze learns what it means to be a man.

Taps  is a unique product of Willie Morris’ passion for writing. He conceived the idea very early in his writing life, even before he published his first book, North Toward Home,  in 1967. Willie spent over thirty years working on Taps, literally the rest of his life. When Willie Morris died in August, 1999 at the age of sixty-four, one of his last requests made of his wife was that she “get Taps  together.” Those who knew him personally have said that Taps  speaks powerfully to Willie’s core beliefs and values, that it contains his heart and soul. I, of course, never knew Willie Morris personally, though after reading My Cat Spit McGee and Taps I can honestly say that I wish I had. I can somehow see myself sitting on his porch in Mississippi and drinking sweet tea while talking about writing and ideas and life. I feel as though I would be a welcomed guest there, as long as Spit McGee approved.

If you love novels with powerful word pictures that can “suck you in” and be hard to put down, I heartily recommend Taps: a Novel by Willie Morris. Click here to order Taps from Amazon.com.

CAUTIONS:

To the vocabulary-challenged reader, Willie Morris’ writing style can be either educational or difficult. Morris was a complex man, a “good old boy” with an impressive literary pedigree. Every time I read his writing, I add a few words to my vocabulary and gain experience with my favorite on-line dictionary. If you don’t like learning new words, you won’t like this book. Than again, you probably wouldn’t have read this far, either.

Taps is not a CBA book. If you are easily offended by coarse language or the things high-school age jocks brag about in locker rooms, you might find this book offensive. There were no words used in the book that I hadn’t heard many times over by the time I was Swayze’s age, with the possible exception of the word Yankee as a derogative. The language didn’t offend me in the least, in fact without it the situations would have seemed inauthentic. Your mileage may vary, so if you’re easily offended you’ll want to read something else instead.

D.