When Marc Smirnoff founded The Oxford American in 1992, he dubbed it "The Southern Magazine Of Good Writing," as opposed to "The Magazine Of Good Southern Writing," because he wanted to diminish the use of "Southern" as an adjective. Two of the best pieces in the anthology Best Of The Oxford American directly address the specific implications and stigma of "southernness" in literature: Tony Earley's critical essay "Letter From Sister: What We Learned At The P.O." blames Eudora Welty's colorful, effortless regionality for spawning legions of bad imitators, while Roy Blount Jr.'s "First Tell Me What Kind Of Reader You Are" relates the agony of cocktail parties where idle chitchat about what Blount does for a living turns into a defensive description of where he grew up. Even John Grisham (who helped keep The Oxford American afloat when it was in danger of folding in 1994) ruminates on what he calls "The Faulkner Thing," referring to the inevitable questions about William Faulkner that arise when he tells people that he's a writer from Oxford, Mississippi. These scribes may be a mite testy, but only because Southern writing really exists, and the term is frequently misunderstood to refer to picaresque short stories filled with Wal-Marts, pickup trucks, dusty roads, and slovenly, sweaty cousins of cousins. Best Of The Oxford American sticks to subjects more in the mainstream of sub-Mason-Dixon life. Dividing the collection into sections like "Music," "Eats," and "Religion," Smirnoff sidesteps the question of what makes a southerner, and deals instead with what a southerner makes. This approach yields gems like Steve Yarbrough's "Grandma's Table," about the sudden decline of the culinary craft that defined an old woman, and Barry Hannah's "Sermon With Meath," about a man who loses his faith in agnosticism when he runs into an old neighborhood friend. Best Of The Oxford American could have provided more information about the magazine and its contributors; it's unclear, for example, whether Yarbrough's and Meath's pieces are memoirs or short stories (which doesn't diminish their quality, but is still mildly irksome). Plus, no mention is made of the fact that as the book went to press, The Oxford American was defunct—though reports have surfaced that the magazine may be revived next year. Regardless, the collection accomplishes Smirnoff's original goal: It offers readable articles about the small tussles with work, friends, family, recreation, and spirituality that affect everyone, no matter the climate.