The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
I done read this book afore but I ain't cracked it open in donkey's years. I mind it was in high school, and I remember allowing as how it weren't half-bad, not for mandiblatory reading anyhow, but dad blame me if I could see what all the fuss and feathers was about.
The book's got considerable better since then, I reckon. There's been enough ink spilled on ol' Huck and Jim to float that raft of their'n a tolerable distance, so I ain't fixing to add much more. Only I wanted to give a shout out to Samuel Mark Twain Clemens for doing a bang-up job on Huck and his nat'ral morality. Huck ain't above telling a few taradiddles to smooth out the bumps, and he might liberate a chicken if it was needful; but inside hisself he knows right and wrong, even if he's a mite mixed up on which is which. It's the regular folk, with their feuding and killing and cheating and slave-hunting and what-not, who's rotten; they being able to rationalizate any dern thing they want to do, and convince themselves it's all aces; but Huck das'n't, on account of his conscience.
There ain't but just one thing more, the which has been eating at me.
Back when I first read this book I purposed a paper topic, that being "The River as Homer Sexual Meta Four in Huck Finn", but I was just funnin'. Well, consarn it, I think now I should 'a' writ that paper, cause it'd be dead easy. Excepting I should 'a' writ it all serious-like, talking about how Huck Finn is plumb overflowing with Homer-erratic tension and suchlike. If I warn't such a blame fool I'd 'a' proved that Mr. Mark Twain was a Homer sexual like Honest Abe and King Richard the First and purt-near everybody else and then got famous and be a ten yeared perfessor--only I bet I could 'a' done it in eight years, tops.