Eudora, Eudora, Eudora.
She writes the poetry into the narrative without qualifying or explaining it. If you can read "June Recital" without feeling as though a golden thread has been needled through your heart, then gut, and tugged up through the crown of your head and out into the hot, Mississippi night around you there on your couch as you read ...
Other stuff I'm reading besides Golden Apples:
The Optimist's Daughter (again) by Eudora Welty.
Freedom by Jonathon Franzen.
Half Broke Horses by Jeannette Walls.
American Salvage by Bonnie Jo Campbell.
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