It’s exciting to see Shyamalan on such confident footing once more, all these years later.
In 1928, long before “dropping out” was the thing to do, a New York newspaper reporter named Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings headed south and bought a shack in the Florida Everglades.
She was not the pioneer type. She liked cocktails before dinner and candles on the table, and when her friends in the New York literary establishment, such as the legendary editor Maxwell Perkins, heard that she had moved to the swamps, they worried that maybe she didn't exactly have both sticks in the chow mein.
It was not easy at first for Rawlings in Florida. The weather was against her, the economy was against her, her manuscripts weren't selling, she knew nothing about raising oranges on the groves that came with her land – and her neighbors weren't exactly overjoyed to see her.
But she kept her eyes and ears open, and among the people she met was a proud Florida cracker, and a little girl with a pet fawn. Rawlings wrote a novel about those people, called The Yearling.