The Guardian’s Shameless Attempt to Rewrite Flannery O’Connor’s Legacy – The American Spectator | USA News and PoliticsThe American Spectator

Arguably America’s finest writer of the 20th century, Flannery O’Connor was born 100 years ago. Although she has been dead for over half a century, the acclaimed author still remains a target for the cultural vultures of the hyper-progressive left.

In a recent piece for the Guardian, Catherine Taylor asks, “Should we still read O’Connor?” — a question that speaks more to the decay of modern literary criticism than any genuine concern over O’Connor’s legacy. The underlying implication is that, in order for an author to remain relevant today, their work must pass the ideological purity test. This is a test that, rather conveniently, only the most sanctimonious of progressives can define. (RELATED: Woke Isn’t Quite Dead: Chaucer Now Comes With Trigger Warnings)

First, it’s important to address the race-baiting elephant in the room. Many of those who constantly sound the alarm on racism, as well as shutting down any discussion of uncomfortable historical truths, are well-off, very successful liberal white women. People like Catherine Taylor, who align themselves with ostensibly progressive causes. They view themselves as the moral authorities, convinced they possess the keys to racial harmony. However, when O’Connor depicts the harsh realities of a racially segregated South in her work, they responded with outrage. The issue isn’t that O’Connor revealed racism or bigotry; the real problem is that her depiction does not align with the tidy, idealized version of history these critics prefer. (RELATED: On Old Snobs and New)

Taylor’s portrayal of O’Connor is thoroughly disingenuous. I say this as someone who has read much of O’Connor’s work. The American author wasn’t endorsing racist views. Instead, she was presenting them within a flawed, complicated society. By attempting to sanitize or dismiss her work, critics like Taylor avoid the very truths that must be confronted, all while inflating their sense of moral superiority. In doing so, they obscure the harsh reality of racial prejudice instead of facing it directly.

What’s worse is that these critics, like Taylor, somehow think that making O’Connor the villain of a moral parable conveniently absolves them of their own complicity in perpetuating the very structures they claim to decry. To learn from history, we must first acknowledge it.

O’Connor’s refusal to look away from that darkness positions her as an inconvenient truth for them. This leads critics to try to bury her work under accusations that, in their distorted reasoning, would purify the literary canon of any writing that does not align with their constantly shifting, virtue-signaling agenda.

But O’Connor’s genius lay in her ability to write not for the times, but about the times. She had a sharp eye for human frailty and the hypocrisies inherent in all of us. Her stories, like “A Good Man Is Hard to Find” or “Everything That Rises Must Converge,” don’t just show the racism of her characters. They reveal the tragic contradictions of a society caught between progress and prejudice.

Yet, today’s critics — many of whom exhibit the same ideological purity as the individuals O’Connor critiqued — demand that she be evaluated by the standards of modern, progressive ideals. In short, they overlook the complexity of her work in favor of simplistic, nuance-free narratives.

In accusing O’Connor of racism, largely based on her personal letters, these critics commit an intellectual sin that’s too sinful to sidestep. They pull a letter from the 1950s and say, “See? She was a complete racist,” as if that letter somehow erases the moral depth of stories that dissected the very ignorance they claim to abhor.

These self-proclaimed champions of justice, Taylor included, are engaging in an act of “presentism.” For the uninitiated, this is an insidious process by which commentators demand that historical figures conform to the values of 2025, without ever considering the context in which they lived.

If we held every writer accountable to the standards of their time, we would be left with nothing but the most tedious, self-congratulatory books written by individuals who have never taken a risk. Essentially, we would end up with literature unworthy of actually being read.

Should we burn Moby Dick for Melville’s daring exploration of human folly, which included beliefs now seen as offensive? Toss out The Great Gatsby because Fitzgerald was a product of his time? At this rate, why not throw out the whole Western canon, just to be safe? It would be the cultural equivalent of throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

In O’Connor’s world, there are no easy answers. She didn’t write shallow fables where good triumphed over evil in neatly packaged conclusions. Her work explored the hard truths of human nature, the contradictions that shaped us and continue to shape who we are. However, it’s far easier to dismiss an entire body of work than to confront its painful truths.

In the end, I suggest, the real threat to O’Connor’s legacy isn’t her racism; it’s her honesty. That’s because the Georgian was not in the business of comforting her readers with moral certainties. She wanted to awaken them to objective reality, to force them to see the world as it was, not as they would like it to be.

At a time when the lines between right and wrong are becoming ever more blurred by ideologically driven drivel, her work remains a brutal, necessary confrontation with the sinister side of humanity. And that’s precisely why it should be read — and why those who would rather it never existed are the true moral cowards.

READ MORE from John Mac Ghlionn:

Elon Musk Does Have a Few Conflicts

Is That Cup of Coffee Killing You?

The Happiness Hoax: Are Nordic Nations Really Better Off Than America?