Flannery_ A Life of Flannery O'Connor - Brad Gooch [128]
Because Betty was going public with her conversion, and seemingly shuffling off the coil of Simone Weil’s hesitancy about the Christian religion, Flannery felt empowered to invite her to participate more fully in the Church. As an act of Lenten “mortification,” as well as tapping into a source of free copies of contemporary novels and works of theology, Flannery had begun writing one-page reviews for the Bulletin. A biweekly paper published by the Diocese of Atlanta — newly created that year as an independent diocese under Bishop Francis E. Hyland — the Bulletin ran about twelve of Flannery’s articles a year over the next eight years. Her first review, which appeared in the February 1956 issue, treated an anthology of Catholic short fiction; as she wrote a friend, “I have just had the doubtful honor of reviewing All Manner of Men for the diocesan paper, yclept the Bulletin.” So Flannery recommended Betty to its editor, Eileen Hall, and she was quickly enlisted to write her own 200-word reviews. “The competition is at least not overpowering,” Flannery promised.
Out of this nexus of the Atlanta diocese, the Bulletin, and Betty Hester, soon appeared William Sessions, a writer and instructor at West Georgia College. In his twenties, Sessions was likewise reviewing for the diocesan paper while still on the brink of conversion, having been brought up Southern Baptist. When Betty mentioned him in a letter, Flannery recalled admiring his review in the Bulletin of the newly translated English version of Guardini’s The Lord, a book that she had already sent to Hester. She wrote to thank him for the review and to invite him to make a springtime visit to Andalusia, though she pretended to have second thoughts when Betty informed her that following graduation from the University of North Carolina and while pursuing an MA at Columbia, Sessions had spent time as a ballet dancer in Manhattan. “When forced to a program of it,” Flannery proclaimed, “I am liable to twist hideously in my seat.”
Sessions visited Andalusia on Ascension Day, a Thursday, in May 1956, beginning what would constitute a mutual, three-way friendship with Betty and Flannery. The connection was natural and Flannery read his stories, some of which she felt were ready to be sent out; prayed for his intentions before his own confirmation; and, in the fall, looked over his application for a Fulbright to study theology with Guardini at the University of Munich. But she could also make mean, funny remarks about him to Betty. In a hilarious account of his arrival at the farm, she reported that he talked his way up the steps “without pause, break, breath,” until supper when he encountered “a little head wind” from Regina, “also a talker.” If Flannery and Betty were sisters, “Billy” was the younger brother they liked to pick on. Flannery was fond of him, and he was her piñata. “I was basically treated as Billy the Idiot,” Sessions has characterized the situation.
Finally, the fourth weekend in June, Betty agreed to visit Andalusia herself. Flannery solicitously tried to make the trip as painless as possible, sensing her guest’s hesitation at venturing outside her narrow life in Atlanta, and, as far as their friendship, off the page. She promised an air-conditioned bus and a ride back Sunday evening with Uncle Louis; his young driver, named Franklyn;