They gather at the Barnes & Noble early Saturday morning to drink coffee and discuss a few books. They speak in the hushed, reverential tones of people who have been raised to respect the edicts of a stern librarian. Seven of them congregate in the corner chairs; they carry several new books. Their camo apparel and thick Southern accents target them as something different in this Starbucks-aroma’d palace of retail bookery.
”Readnecks” is the word they use to describe themselves. “We know folks call us ’rednecks’,” says Larry. “But we prefer ’readnecks’.” They all laugh gently like people who would help you if your car was dead beside a busy interstate. It is an eclectic group.
One is a trucker; two are farmers; one works in the poultry business; one is a power company lineman; two won’t say what they do for a living, but judging from their hands it isn’t white collar work. Even though it is winter, they are sunburned and drink their Starbucks black. Cale is tall and black himself.
“I’m the token darkreadneck,” he smiles. They all laugh again.
This rough-edged literary circle comes here once a month to discuss what they have read. This is not all of them, there are more, but they don’t talk about them other than to say, “Some couldn’t make it, had to work.”
Larry seems to be the outspoken one. He gesticulates with the book he holds as he talks passionately about how “Marley & Me” could be about him and his dog, Rufus. A slight, leathery woman named Winona waits until a pause in the conversation before offering up ”The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid” by Bill Bryson. Jennette, a plump woman beside Winona, says they should consider ”Shape Shifter” as a gift for their friends. She has read every book by Tony Hillerman. This conversation goes on and on, finally ending with Randy saying, “If y’all wonna read a seriously good book, get ‘Thunderstruck.’ by Erik Larson.” Each pitches a different book he or she has read and they discuss the choices with considerable thought.
As they talk, they notice a man wearing a hunting cap squatting next to a shelf of travel books, searching the bottom section intently.
“That one on the far right there is a good one,” says Cale, pointing toward a book about the Shenandoah Valley. The man thanks Cale and they start talking, and soon the man has become a part of the coffee-drinking readnecks in the corner of Barnes & Noble on a Saturday morning.
I almost joined them, but I don’t own a single camo garment and I doubt I could keep up with their intensity. They could have had a discussion with the editors of ”The New York Review of Books” with little effort and held their own. After about two hours, the talk died down and, one by one, they left in a parade of pickup trucks.
Next time you make fun of a redneck wearing a camo jumpsuit, remember, the odds of him being able to stand toe to toe with a Harvard professor and discuss the finer points of Homer and Virgil are just as good as the odds that his name is Homer or Virgil.
