by Jim Hanas Almost thirty years ago, in what would now be called a quarter-life crisis, I felt called to Greenville, Mississippi. It’s not too far from Memphis, beyond the casinos, which were new then and also called to me from time to time. I had been introduced to Walker Percy at the used bookstore where I worked. The Moviegoer, with its moody twenty-nine-year-old protagonist, hit me at the right time in life and set me on the Southern Route …
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