Hurston's book is about this woman who is raised by her grandmother during--eh, you should just go read it. It might take you an afternoon. Tops. ANYWAY the whole thing is written in this deep southern dialect. The type of writing that, if you don't read it out loud, you almost suspect she didn't actually write a real book and was just trying to avant-garde us into liking her stuff. BUT I DIGRESS.
Here's an example: 'Thank yuh fuh yo' compliments, but mah wife don't know nothin' 'bout no speech- makin'...Ah never married her for nothin' lak dat. She's uh woman and her place is in de home.' This, of course, roughly translates to "My wife isn't going to make a speech because she's of the weaker sex, but she CAN make me a hoagie. Which would be delicious right about now."
Well, since I've been reading this for about half an hour a night for the past few days, my generic inner-head voice has been...slurring.Sort of sliding into a lazier, redneck voice. And I think I'm just gonna go with it.
People in Utah love a
Wish me luck, mah friends! (See? Already.)