1. You were born an Auburn fan. Fate and choice conspired to burden your days with this nonsense. Worse fates? Yes, there are worse fates and worse choices to be made. As an Auburn fan, you believe a worse fate would have been being born an Alabama fan. But if you were born an Alabama [...]

J. Wes Yoder’s Carry My Bones, most recent read of The LiterAUti, is the novel Terrence Malick would write if he was 40 years younger, grew up in Tennessee, and attended Auburn. Merit, the novel’s narrator, is a mash of Sissy Spacek in Badlands—with her short, simple declarations and naive yet profound innocence—and that kid [...]

Auburn, town and University, has several mentions, as does Opelika, Shorter, the Syrup Sop, etc. The novel never leaves Alabama.

“I still kind of feel like I’m not so much an American as I am a Southerner.” – Madison Jones A Cry of Absence Madison Jones 1971 Novel Auburnness: Madison Jones came to Auburn as a creative writing instructor in 1956. He retired a writer-in-residence in 1987. He still lives in the area, out Wire [...]

I realize Auburn is beautiful. I was reminded the other day when I returned. It was early March. I was wearing a T-shirt. I believe it was black. The sky seemed to be blue. The sun appeared yellow. I saw a brown dog. I believe it was a big brown dog. At Auburn, I know [...]

This is the first post in what could be a series of considerations of Auburn literature. If you have any suggestions, any favorite Auburn-y books, send suggestions to ben.bartley@thewareaglereader.com. We are lax when it comes to what is and isn’t an Auburn book. All ideas welcome. Heck, write something about your favorite book. Paint a [...]

This is your brain on Auburn Basketball.

“I’m just saying if Auburn ever exploded I would change my name, move to Louisiana, and try to marry into old-time Cajun money.”

“Did we pay Cam Newton? I don’t care. If we did, I hope we paid him all the money. I hope he has a Swiss bank account stacked with YellaWood cash money. I hope he invested in gold. I hope he has 14 wives and a 54-room mansion in Slovenia. Because you know what? It doesn’t matter. He played for Auburn.”

David Housel exudes largeness. Like a Chappy’s booth is the known world. Mirrors upon mirrors inside mirrors around his head. David Housel is and isn’t David Housel like everything is and isn’t everything else. Nose crooked. Voice of the same sort. Arms up. Wide. Like this. Like he’s hugging a big old grizzly bear. “Live [...]