"In its surging passage below Memphis toward the Gulf of Mexico, the Mississippi...comes to a hugh, sun-splashed hill...To the East, bordering the state of Mississippi, rise two hundred feet of red-brown bluff, crowned by vines of wild grape, magnificent magnolias and the sweep of oak. The river itself seems to change here. As if reluctant to leave, it makes a wide crescent of lake-like tranquility; then it turns again to glide, silver and yellow, into the distance."

from "Wright, Faulkner, and Mississippi as Racial Memory" by Thadious M. Davis