Wyatt Wyatt

This title is Wyatt Wyatt's first book. It takes place in Winter Park, Florida, and "Pigman" is the protagonist. He is called this because he was in a fire and had two-thrids of his body encased in jelled treatment for severe fire wounds. He had pigskin transplanted over those two-thrids of his body and hence the name "Pigman."

Wyatt was an admirer of Gainesville novelist Harry Crews and images of the woman in Wyatt's book could be the twin to Gaye Nell or another of Crews' strong women.

In my first novel, it is Mazie, the female protagonist, who binds the two men and their life trip together at the end. What is there about the healing of women the three of us share? And why isn't that evident in novels of other eras besides 1960-onwards?… (mehr)

there are excellent writers who publish little and we are worse for it. such is wyatt wyatt, who wrote two lovely books, but who stopped publishing after this one, although continuing to be a professor of english and writing at the university of central florida.
two books is barely enough to be able to say that here is a writer sufficiently intellectual in his ability but inherently an Oklahoman or southerner in his heart. The protagonist's name escapes me at the moment (or forever), but Grady does not. This weird, rambunctious, drunken friend of the protagonist is drawn up well. Wyatt, over hours of wine and cheese or at his house, rarely (I don't remember once!) talked about his work, either published or ongoing. Compare this to Mike Saara, who often talked about his work, or Steve Becker, who kept writing, too. Mike left us with five books and numerous short stories yet to be collected (I'm working on it!), and Steve published some 22 books in his lifetime. Harry Crews, in his 70s, published two years ago. Why, then, did Wyatt just stop? Contentment with his lot, I suppose, but I really think the rage was gone. His brain cancer in 1990 knocked the last of it out of him. He was a different man after he came back from that operation that left a scimatar upon his upper forehead. He told me: "You change inside when you realize there is no such thing as hope." I know I keep writing because the lifelong rage I've had is still there. I hope it never goes away until my death.… (mehr)