Gifts in Appalachian Lit

 I've been a fan of Appalachian literature ever since I read Jesse Stuart's short story, "Split Cherry Tree," in my 7th grade lit book. The first Appalachian novel I read was when I was thirteen— Harriet Arnow's Hunter's Horn. As I got older, I read more Appalachian books—novels by Jesse Stuart and Janet Holt Giles, and eventually others. When I was in my fifties, I started writing Appalachian short stories—I eventually won the Lonesome Pine Short Story Contest five times—my favorite is this one— and the Sherwood Anderson Short Story Contest three times. My Sherwood Anderson winners are in this ebook, Rest in Peace.

I especially like Appalachian stories where a character has a "gift"—like Sharyn McCrumb's character Nora Bonesteel, who's appeared in several of McCrumb's novels. My favorite is The Hangman's Beautiful Daughter. The first two lines of this novel immediately hooked me: "Nora Bonesteel was the first one to know about the Underhill family. Death was no stranger to Dark Hollow, Tennessee, but Nora Bonesteel could see it coming."

In 1916, when I wrote my own Appalachian novel, Them That Go,  I featured a main character with a gift—Annie Caldwell, who can communicate with animals. 

I have Annie begin her story by remembering which stereotypes her classmates were. She concludes her list by identifying herself: "Who was I back then? The quiet mousy one that nobody noticed. I was 'The Other,' a term I learned years later when I was no longer an Other. But in 1972, I didn't have a word for who I was. All that I knew was that I was Annie Caldwell, I lived at the end of a holler, and I wasn't like other kids. I had what Aint Lulie—my great aunt on Daddy's side—called 'the gift.' "

Consequently, I'm always delighted when I find other Appalachian novels that feature a character with a gift. Rebecca D. Elswick's new novel, The Dream is the Truth, has several characters with "gifts."

This lovely and lyrical novel has a strong sense of place—Coal Valley, West Virginia. Among its Appalachian motifs are superstitions, mountain wisdom, uses for plants, Irish heritage, strong women, and the importance of family, 

The book bridges two stories and two time periods: Zelda's story which begins in 1912 and Maggie and Hannah's story which begins in 1990

And the first line hooked me: "Two days shy of Zelda Ryan’s tenth birthday, she went into the forest to gather Shepherd’s Purse and came back with a dead baby."

The rest of the opening paragraph kept me hooked: "Zelda’s mother was a midwife, and she needed Shepherd’s Purse to make a poultice to stop bleeding. It was May fifth and Shepherd’s Purse was in bloom on Rock House Mountain, and thanks to her grandmother, Zelda knew every nook and cranny of the mountain. Zelda was named for that grandmother, a healer who now in her old age was called Granny Zee."

Chapter 3, which switches to 1990,  begins: "Addie buried the secret ring deep in the heart-shaped pocket of her dress. With her other hand, she grabbed her mother’s wrist and tugged her down the hall. Her Tinker Bell backpack swished back and forth on her thin shoulders as she step-skipped through the crowd of parents and children gathered in the hallways of Coal Valley Elementary School."

This chapter introduces Margaret—Maggie—Whitefield and her daughter Addie, and Hannah Lively and her daughter Reilly. Maggie recently moved from the Washington DC area because of her husband's job, but Hannah's family has lived in the Coal Valley area for generations. The two women  meet on the first day of school where their daughters are beginning kindergarten. Addie finds a ring on the ground and returns it to its owner, Reilly. 

Maggie "had not seen Addie pick up the ring, but she had looked around the parking lot, and she was certain the mother and daughter, who claimed ownership, had not been there.  She said, 'Addie, when you found that ring was the girl there?' Addie shook her head in a slow side to side motion. 'Then, how did you see her drop it?' Addie giggled. 'Oh Mommy, I saw her with my other eyes.' ” 

The rest of the novel switches back and forth between the two time periods, and connects them beautifully. I highly recommend this novel—it is indeed a gift!

~

Bone's Gift

I'm a big fan of Appalachian lit and stories about characters who have special powers—think Sharyn McCrumb's ballad novels and her character Nora Bonestell who has the gift of second sight. In fact, my self-pubbed novel, Them That Go, is set in Appalachia and is told from the viewpoint of a character who has a special gift. So, when I heard that Roanoke resident Angie Smibert had a new novel that was set in Appalachia and had a character with a gift, I knew I had to read it. I pre-ordered a Kindle copy and read it in two nights.

(Disclaimer: I've known Angie for years, was in a crit group with her for a while, and have reviewed a couple of her YA dystopian novels on this blog: Memento Nora and The Forgetting Curve.)

Bone's Gift is a fine example of Appalachian literature. While it's promoted as a book for middle graders, it has something to offer readers of all ages. Set in 1942 in Big Vein, a mining town along the New River, the novel deals with young Bone's curiosity about her mother and Bone's releationships with other members of her family.

The back cover sets up the premise:

Bone Phillip's need to know drives the novel's narrative. Bone—real name Laurel, but called Bone from a kind of coal that contains rock—can receive impressions from things she touches, a gift that sometimes is unpleasant. Gifts run in her family—her Mamaw can use plants to heal, an uncle can diagnose problems that animals have, and her deceased mother could heal the sick or injured. Bone is curious about her mother's death. All anyone will tell her is that her mother died of influenza. Meanwhile, Bone's life is in turmoil. Her father is being called to report for active duty, so Bone will have to live with her religious-fanatic aunt who doesn't believe in the gifts. Bone's best friend Will drops out of school to work in the mine. Bone has been foridden to go across the river to visit Mamaw. A bright spot in Bone's life is that Miss Spencer, a collector of stories, has come to the area, and Bone—who likes to tell stories—offers to help her. And Bone finds her way around some of the obstacles in her path.

Bone's Gift is a wonderful story—rich in aspects of Appalachian lit—and it works on several levels. It' a book that mothers would enjoy reading with their daughters. And it would be a good choice for  a book club (it includes notes from the author). Although complete in itself, Bone's Gift is the first in a series of three "Ghosts of Ordinary Objects." I'm looking forward to reading Lingering Echos in 2019 and The Truce in 2020.

Note: I did notice an error in the ebook version. The link to Ferrum College's AppLit website is incorrect. it should be http://www2.ferrum.edu/AppLit/.

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The Unquiet Grave

Many folks in southwestern Virginia and West Virginia know the story of Zona Heaster Shue, whose ghost appeared to her mother and told how her husband Trout had killed her. A sign in Greenbrier County, WV, summarizes what happened.

Plus numerous online sites give information about this bizarre murder trial, such as Little Bits of History Along U.S. Roadways, Appalachian History, and Prairie Ghosts to list a few. 

With so much documentation of what happened, what more is there to tell of Zona's sad story? Turns out, there's quite a bit. In her latest novel, The Unquiet Grave, Sharyn McCrumb reveals more about the story and the people who were involved.

While The Unquiet Grave is a novel, thanks to McCrumb's meticulous historical research, it  reads like non-fiction. McCrumb conveys the story through two viewpoints: Zona's mother (Mary Jane Heaster) tells her side as a first person narrator, and a third person limited narrator tells the story of James P. D. Gardner, an African-American lawyer and one of Trout Shue's defense attorneys.

The story alternates between Gardner's story in 1930 Larkin, West Virginia, and Mrs. Heaster's  account of Zona and her ill-fated marriage in Greenbrier County three decades earlier. Confined to an insane asylum because of his suicide attempt, Gardner tells the story of his most memorable case to one of the doctors, who thinks having Gardner talk about his experiences will help him recover. At the time of Zona's death, Gardner was a young man working in the law office of a former pro-Union slaveowner. Until the murder trial in 1898, he had done mostly routine work.

Mrs. Heaster's story about her only daughter portrays Zona as a young woman who is too pretty for her own good and who does what she pleases. When Zona is impregnated by a local ne'er-do-well she doesn't want to marry even if he wanted to marry her, Mrs.Heaster makes arrangements for the baby to be given to an older couple back in the mountains. Free of the obligation to raising a child, Zona goes to Richlands to visit her cousins. There she meets a handsome young blacksmith, new in town, and they are instantly smitten with each other. In a few weeks they marry. Mrs. Heaster is suspicious of Trout Shue from the first time she meets him.

A few months after her wedding, Zona is dead—supposedly from a broken neck suffered in a fall down the steps—and her mother is suspicious because of Trout's odd behavior at the funeral. A month later, Mrs. Heaster reports to the county prosecutor that her daughter appeared to her as a ghost and told her how Shue had murdered her. Zona's body is exhumed and examined, and it turns out that her broken neck was not from the fall after all. Shue is arrested for his wife's murder.

Shue's defense attorney assigns his young assistant, Mr. Gardner, with the job of preparing a defense. While Gardner has a long legal career, Trout Shue's trial is the case that stands out the most—and the case he discusses with the young Dr. Boozer at the asylum. After all, it's the only known murder case where a ghost provided incriminating evidence.

I won't give away anything else that happens in this book, except to note there are some interesting twists and turns. Read more about this new book here.

The title, The Unquiet Grave, is apt. Both Gardner and Zona are connected by "unquiet" graves. Zora tells the story of her death after she's been buried for a month; while still alive, Gardner is "buried" in an insane asylum until he tells his story.

The Unquiet Grave is Sharyn MCrumb at her best—meticulous research, interesting characters, and a compelling story! I read the review copy in two days (and nights)—it was so good I didn't want to put it down.

The Unquiet Grave debuts on September 10, 2017, in Greenbrier county, WV. A list of other places and times she'll be promoting this book are here.

While The Unquiet Grave won't be available until September, you can pre-order a copy from Amazon.

~

Note: I mentioned this book in a previous blog-post:  "The Greenbrier Ghost."

The Greenbrier Ghost

I've always liked a good ghost story—especially if it's a true one. Last year, I self-published a novel, Them That Go, which had several ghost stories in it, including a true one: the Greenbrier ghost.

In one scene, a high school student relates the story of the Greenbrier ghost to her English class. If you're not familiar with the story, there are several versions of it online, and even a couple of videos. Here's one that summarizes the story:

In a chapter of Them That Go, the English class has been studying Hamlet, in which the ghost of Hamlet's father tells Hamlet about how he was murdered. The teacher asks if the students have heard any ghost stories, and—on pages 99-100— this is what Lizzie says her aunt told her:

“Well, Aunt Sarah said back in the 1890s a woman named Zona married a good-looking stranger who come to town. He worked as a blacksmith, so he was real strong. But he was real mean, too, and Zona’s mama didn’t much like him. One winter day, the blacksmith sent a boy to his house for some reason or other, and the boy found Zona dead at the foot of the steps. The boy run back and told everybody, and the doctor was fetched to see about Zona. But the blacksmith got there before the doctor and was carrying on something awful about his wife being dead. He’d even took her and put her to bed and had her all cleaned up and dressed, even though other womenfolk are supposed to do that for a woman, not the husband.”

Several girls nodded. Likely they had witnessed some home burials. A lot of folks in the county can’t afford a funeral home and have to make do the old way.

“Anyhow, the doctor didn’t get to examine her real good, what with the blacksmith carrying on and crying and hanging onto her. When somebody rode out to fetch Zona’s mama, she said that no doubt that devil had done killed her daughter hisself.”

Nobody was saying a word while Lizzie told this. It wasn’t like some of the boys to be so quiet.

“Well,” Lizzie continued, “next day, they carried Zona in her coffin out to her parents’ farm to get buried. The blacksmith stuck pretty tight to that coffin even during the wake. He put a pillow on one side of her head and a rolled up sheet on the other, which struck her family as odd, but he said it seemed like to him it made Zona more comfortable, so they didn’t mess with what he was doing. He tied a scarf around her neck, too, and said it was her favorite so she ought to be buried with it.

“Right before they closed up the coffin, Zona’s mama slipped that sheet out of the coffin. After Zona was buried and folks had left, Zona’s mama washed the sheet but couldn’t get a stain out of it no matter how hard she tried. She took it as a sign that Zona didn’t die no natural death.

“Meanwhile, she started to pray that her daughter would come to her and tell what happened. She prayed and prayed every night for nigh onto a month until Zona’s ghost appeared and said her husband had got mad and killed her. He beat her some and choked her and broke her neck.

“Zona’s mama went to a lawyer who listened to what she said and got the doctor and some deputies to look into what had gone on. They dug up Zona and examined her real good this time.” Lizzie paused to take a breath. This was the longest I—and likely everyone else—had ever heard her talk.

“What did they find out?” Susan Collins asked.

“Found out that her neck was indeed broke and her windpipe was mashed and her neck was bruised up like somebody had got a’holt of it, so they arrested the blacksmith, and he was tried for murder and sent to prison. Turns out he’d been married twice before and his second wife had died mysterious too. 

“At least that’s the story my aunt told me,” Lizzie said. “I thought it’s kind of like in Hamlet. A ghost appears and tells about a murder.”

* * *

How did I happen to include this particular ghost story in Them That Go? In late summer 2015, when I was midway through Them That Go, I asked on FaceBook if anyone knew of an Appalachian ghost story in which a ghost gave information about his or her own death. A couple of people suggested the Greenbrier Ghost. One was best-selling Appalachian novelist, Sharyn McCrumb, who'd been researching and writing her new novel—a novel, that I was later to learn, based on the Greenbrier ghost. 

At the Franklin County Library in spring 2016, when I heard her speak about her then-new novel, Prayers the Devil Answers, Sharyn gave a bit of a preview of her next book: The Unquiet Grave. When it comes out in September 2017, the cover will look like this:

Meanwhile, I just finished reading an advance reader copy that her publicist sent me. 

I'll do an "official review" on this blog in August, but I can tell you now that I really enjoyed the book. Even though I was familiar the basics of the story, Sharyn McCrumb's novelization of what happened in Greenbrier County back in the 1890s was compelling. It kept me reading way past my bedtime two nights running.

I always enjoy a good ghost story, and The Unquiet Grave was indeed a good 'un.

~

Whistling Woman

I'm a big fan of Appalachian novels—both to read and to write. When I ran across a free Amazon download (free at least for Prime members; 99¢ for others), I figured I'd take a chance. I'm glad I did. I really enjoyed CC Tillery's Whistling Woman.

A plot description is on the back of the paperback version:

The back-cover description covers the basics but hardly does the book justice. It doesn't let the reader know that the book has such a rich texture. I was impressed by the details that make this book truly Appalachian—a sense of place (rural Kentucky setting), time (late 19th century), daily life, the sense of family, traditions, and superstitions.

Some of Whistling Woman echoes my self-published novel, Them That Go, but with a different setting and situation. I'm pretty sure that those who like my book will like this one, too. And there's some "going" in Whistling Woman, too.

While Whistling Woman reads like a novel, it's actually creative non-fiction by sisters Cyndi Tillery Hodges and Christy Tillery French, who use the name CC Tillery to write about the life of their great-aunt Bessie. You can read more about the authors and book here.

Whistling Woman is Book 1 in the "Appalachian Journey" series. The other three books follow later events in Bessie's  life: Moonfixer, Beloved Woman, and Wise Woman. The e-books are a good bargain at 99¢ each, but they're also available in paperback.

~

Out and About with Books

Warning: Blatant promo for my books!

When you're a self-published author, there aren't a lot of ways to sell books. Bookstores don't carry self-dubbed books because they (pick one or several): aren't returnable, don't have a distributor, don't have a deep discount, have no quality control, etc. While my books are on Amazon and Barnes & Noble, few people know they're there. Hence, self-pubbed authors usually sell their books in person. That's what I'll be doing for the next month.

This spring, I'll be making a few appearances to promote my books. On Saturday, April 22, from 10 AM until 2 PM, I'll join two dozen other authors at Brewed Awakening in Danville. Because of the weather, I don't know yet if we authors will be inside or outside. I've been to Brewed Awakening author events a couple of times in the past and really enjoyed them. My picture from last summer even appeared in a news article about the event.

On Tuesday, April 25, from 10 AM until 2 PM, I'll be among another couple dozen of authors at Westlake Library's Local Author Expo. Several members of Lake Writers will participate.

On Thursday, May 11, from 4 until 6 PM, Linda Kay Simmons and I will present "Down-Home Writers" at the Moneta/SML Library. Both Linda and I write Appalachian fiction, so our work complements each other. We'll discuss how our homespun stories were woven from scraps of family lore, childhood recollections, regional history, folklore, familiar places, and maybe a few out-right lies. I'll have a Powerpoint presentation showing some of the places and people who have influenced my stories.

On May 20, I'll join another twenty or so local authors who'll sell and sign at the Salem Museum's "Read Local" event. Some are self-published; some are commercially published.

The museum is a neat place and the exhibits are well worth seeing, too.

Meanwhile, if you want to buy my books in advance, click the titles to go to their Amazon page:

Patches on the Same Quilt

Them That Go

Miracle of the Concrete Jesus & Other Stories

I'd like to do a few more events this summer if any opportunities arise. Because I have some mobility issues, I can only accept invitations that are within a hundred miles of home, are handicapped accessible, and don't require a lot of walking.

~

Daddy's Girl

The other day, I was privileged to receive an advance copy of Lin Stepp's lastest Smoky Mountain romance, Daddy's Girl. I've posted about some of Linn's books before—Saving Laurel Springs and Welcome Back. Both of those books were about women returning to places where they grew up.

Daddy's Girl, however, is about a woman who never left the small North Carolina town where she was born. Olivia Benton's mother died when she was a child, and her grandmother died a few years after, so Olivia becomes the one who looks after her father, cooks his meals, and looks after the family home. She especially enjoys taking care of her grandmother's lavish garden in back of the house. Later, she buys a florist shop a florist shop and loves running it.

Tanner: "I'll read it after I see what'sgoing on outside."

Meanwhile, her friends in the popular clique to which she'd belonged in high school are going to college, getting married, etc. Even her childhood next-door neighbor and best friend, the nerdy out-cast Weird Warner Zachary—the target of much high school bullying, goes to college in New York and gets married. While Olivia dates off and on, she never gets serious. She is, after all, Daddy's Girl—even though Daddy had started dating the widow of one of his colleagues.

Arlo: "I'll put it at the top of my to-read stack."

Ten years after high school, when Olivia and her three ex-cheerleader besties are having lunch in the same Bryon City drugstore where they've been meeting since high school, a black Mercedes pulls up out front and a well-dressed guy comes in. He's handsome W.T. Zachary, a well-known author famous for his Geeky Gilmore series of books for young people—but he used to be Weird Warner. Olivia has always loved him even though she once rejected him, so awkwardness ensues. He's been widowed a year now, so much of the book deals with W.T.'s and Olivia's off-again/on again relationship.

But it deals with more. A sub-plot involves Olivia's employee Patti and her son who suffers at the hands of bullies. Patti is a relative newcomer in town and seems to have some secrets in her past. But she won't talk about the past. Then there's a vandal who spray-paints messages on buildings in town, but no one has been able to catch him.

Alfreda: "What I liked best is that this book had a cat in it."

I won't give away anymore of the plot, except to say it has some twists and turns, and everything works out in the end. It's a clean, up-beat book that will appeal to women of any age. Since it addresses some of the choices a young woman must make, it would be a great book for a mother to read with her teenage daughter.

One of the things I really like about Lin Stepp's books is the richness of detail in her setting, and the map that she provides. Bryson City is a real town, and she mentions some of the real places. She gives the reader a wonderful glimpse of small town life.

She has created believable characters that are not without flaws, and some of those characters will likey remind you of someone you went to high school with or someone you've met.

Another plus is the study guide she included in the book. Daddy's Girl could provide a book club with much to discuss. The book debuts on April 1, 2017, but you can preorder a copy from Amazon.

For more information about the author or her book, visit her Amazon author page or her website, www.linstepp.com.

The Dead Shall Rise

If ever there was a book to read during Halloween,/Samhain/All Souls' Day, The Dead Shall Rise—a debut novel by Melanie K. Hutsell—is it. And that's when I read it. The book is seriously creepy. But it's a lot more than that.

It's also wonderfully lovely and lyrical—and so beautifully written that I'll likely re-read it in a few years. Think Appalachian literary fiction meets magical realism. Here's the first two-thirds of the opening paragraph:

She came from the lowlands, her long, black hair wild and tangled. She came alone and she walked with sorrow in her long bones. The people of Beulah Creek had never seen anyone like her. They did not want to see her. They knew it that first morning when she walked into their midst. She seemed to clutch the dark about her like the long folds of her skirt, the fringes of her shawl.

And thus we are introduced to the main character, Malathy Jane—a mysterious and unwelcome stranger who, in the fall of 2000, buys the old Greenberry house where Jess Greenberry hanged herself years earlier. And where Jess's ghost still resides. Malathy Jane stays with widower Clement Foster and his teenage daughter Emmy for a time while Noah Carpenter fixes up the long-abandoned house. Then she moves in, and continues to be the subject of gossip by the folks who live in the mountain town of Beulah Creek. But Emmy adores her, and Noah is attracted to her.

One of the Beulah Creek denizens is elderly Granny Barnes, who as a child witnessed one man kill another in the woods and never told anyone. Has the dead man returned after all these years? And why, in the dead of winter, does Malathy Jane's garden grow and prosper while the townspeople fall on hard times? And why does Malathy Jane change so much? Many questions hang in the air.

The dialogue in The Dead Shall Rise is sparse and sometimes ambiguous, but it works. Sense of place is strong in this novel—the mountain, the Greenberry house, the town, nature, and the creek contribute to it. All function more like characters themselves than just setting.

The Dead Shall Rise gives the reader much to think about and ponder. The tale, while appearing simple, is a tangled web where evil lurks. Hutsell's words will haunt you for a while after you've read them.

I look forward to reading future works from this debut author.

~

Prayers the Devil Answers

I'm a great fan of both Appalachian literature and Sharyn McCrumb. I recently read Sharyn McCrumb's new book, Prayers the Devil Answers, and enjoyed it. This novel featured multiple points of view, a technique that I especially like. I liked it's strong sense of place and time—a sense I consider important in an Appalachian novel. I also found the main character, Ellendor Robbins, interesting.  

Prayers the Devil Answers begins in the early 1900s in Appalachia, where six girls hold a Dumb Supper to see who their husbands will be. This supper is held at midnight in an abandoned cabin, and the girls must follow a set ritual. They must not speak and must set the table with their backs turned toward it. They must serve also serve any male guest with their backs turned. But Celia drops a knife and tries to cover her error. (For those unfamiliar with the dumb supper, the Blind Pig and the Acorn had a post about it a couple of years ago.) Only two men show up, and they eventually marry the girls who served them. The homely Greer sisters remain spinsters, and unmarried Celia becomes a school teacher.

Soon the action moves ahead several years to the depression era, where Ellendor Robbins—who has no previous connection with the Dumb Supper—has moved with her husband Albert and their two young sons from the mountain farm owned by Albert's brother Henry to a small railroad town.

 In the same town, artist Larry Varden has been hired to paint a mural in the post office. When he decides to paint the Cherokee Attack at Fort Watauga, he needs to research how the fort looked. Thus he visits the school teacher Celia. Eventually he marries her.

Sidenote: During the depression, many artists painted murals in post offices across the country. Here's my copy of the one that's in the Rocky Mount, VA, post office:

Albert soon tires of his job as a machinist and becomes a deputy sheriff.  He successfully runs for sheriff, but dies three months after he's elected. His widow, left with two sons and no means of support, takes over his job. Eventually, Ellendor Robbins, Lonnie Varden, and Celia are connected by unhappy circumstance. Could what happened at the Dumb Supper have caused it?

I won't give away the ending, but suffice to say this is a dark book. But it's a compelling one. I kept turning pages to see what happened next.

I was hoping to get Sharyn to sign my copy next Tuesday when she'll speak at Bethlehem United Methodist Church in Moneta. But, alas, my recent surprise surgery and its resultant recuperation time will prevent my attending.

~

Them That Go

 I've already blogged about my Appalachian novel while I was writing it. In mid-December, I posted "Novel in Progess," followed in late December by "Novel-in-Progress Progress." In mid-February, I posted "Book Cover Cabin Door." In anticipation of the novel being published, I added a Them That Go page to my website [Update: website no longer exists. Info that was on it is now here: https://beckymushko.blogspot.com/2023/07/them-that-go.html]

Now I can actually blog about the book itself. Forty copies of my self-pubbed novel, Them That Go, arrived from CreateSpace last week. They were immediately give a cat scan:

The cover isn't quite the way I wanted it to look, but some friends recently made some minor adjustments. So, likely the books in my next order will look slightly different. I suppose that'll make these first forty collector editions. Or maybe not.

Anyhow, with a signing coming up at the Franklin County Library at 6 PM on Tuesday, March 22, it occurred to me that I should get the word out about what Them That Go is about. The back of the book gives a hint, but not much else. (But no one will see the back of the book because books self-pubbed through CreateSpace aren't in book stores—but they're on Amazon.)

The info on my website doesn't go into a lot of detail. The blurb on Amazon that's supposed to pique potential readers' interest gives more hints but doesn't really tell what happens either:

A secret revealed, A mystery solved, A life forever changed. In 1972, seventeen-year-old Annie Caldwell, who has the “gift” of animal communication, wants to be normal, but she’ll settle for being unnoticed. Annie’s brother died in Vietnam, her mother is depressed, and her father drinks. Her only friend is elderly Aint Lulie—who lives in the same holler and who understands the gift because she has one, too: “The first daughter in ever’ other generation has always been blest with a gift, though some think it a curse.” As they sit by the fireplace in the evenings and tell each other stories, Aint Lulie shares family history with Annie, including a relative’s mysterious death and how some of their ancestors came to settle in the area: “There’s always been them that go and them that stay in ever’ generation.” When a local girl goes missing, Aint Lulie’s and Annie’s gifts can help solve the mystery—but if Annie speaks up, she can no longer go unnoticed. THEM THAT GO is an Appalachian coming-of-age novel rich in tradition, superstition, family ties, and secrets.

Them That Go is told from the viewpoint of Annie Caldwell, a senior at Bosworth County High School who is able to communicate with animals. This gift and her poverty set her apart from her classmates, so she tries to go unnoticed. She takes showers when she helps out in PE class, gets a free lunch, and has only two friends at school. Every evening, she visits her elderly Aint Lulie—the only one who accepts Annie as who she really is. After her English class studies Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken,"Annie chooses to ignore her gift, and gradually becomes more accepted by her classmates. Annie is good in home ec, and the teacher pays her to help out at the Harvest Dance. There, Annie observes a disagreement between the popular cheerleader and the quarterback. At church the next day, she learns that both are missing. And that leads to many complications—and a few plot twists. But I don't really want to give away those complications and twists in this blog-post.

Them That Go has already received a couple of blog reviews from writers I know. On her Imagine blog, Ginny Brock, a "gifted" author of By Morning's Light, posted "The Mountains Hold Secrets—and Spirits." This is part of what she says this about Them That Go:

This is Becky Mushko at her best. Superbly written, "Them That Go"  is set in Appalachia in the 1970's. She has lit a torch and shone a light through the woodlands and valleys of the mountains exposing the illiteracy, poverty and the joy that coexists in 'them thar hills.' It's a telescope into the often stereotyped secretive existence of a musical people, sometimes gun-toting, hard-drinking, bible bashing folk we hardly know.

In my opinion it's a valuable learning tool as we, so many of us transplanted from other places, try to get a handle on the people who live around us. Our neighbors, who are so like us in so many ways. Except for Annie who is 'different'.

 On her Blue Country Magic blog, Botetourt writer Anita Firebaugh posted "Book Review: Them That Go". From her review:

This magical realism story is set in a believable world. Annie's magical gift sets her apart in a place already separated from the rest of the country. Her town is one of the forgotten landscapes that dot that area, filled with the characters frequently found in similar areas throughout Appalachia. Some of these characters speak in written dialect. This style of writing can be difficult for some readers, but Mushko handles it with great skill and the dialect adds to the magic of the story instead of detracting from it, as over-done dialect sometimes does.

Mushko has created an interesting character in Annie Caldwell, a young woman the reader won't soon forget. What might someone with her talent ultimately make of her life? Thankfully, the author offers us a foreshadowing of Annie's future the end of the book, giving a satisfying ending that does not leave the reader wondering.

 Anyhow, Them That Go is out and about, albeit on a limited scale. The print version is for sale on this Amazon page, and the Kindle version is on this page. The book is available from me anytime I do readings—like 6 PM on March 22 at the Franklin County Library in downtown Rocky Mount, or 2 PM on April 14 at the Westlake Library in Hardy. Before long, I hope to get some into a few local gift shops.

The best way to find out what the book is actually about is to buy the book.

 

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Hiding Ezra

My kitty Arlo and I recently read another Appalachian novel. Since Arlo is a rural kitten who spent about six weeks hiding in various places on my property until he surrendered, it is appropriate that he help me review this book.

Hiding Ezra, by Rita Sims Quillen  has what I consider a doggone good opening sentence: "Ezra Teague lay flat on his back underneath Wayland Baptist Church, the smell of loam and mint perfuming the air, while the damp earth soaked its coolness onto his back."

That sentence tells the reader who (Ezra Teague) and where he is (underneath Wayland Baptist Church), plus it hints at the problem: why is Ezra hiding? Since the name Ezra is no longer a popular man's name, the reader knows that the story must take place a while back.

And it does—during World War I and thereafter. Ezra, a farmer in deep southwest Virginia  has been drafted but goes AWOL from Fort Lee to return home and take care of his family. His mother is dying, his father is in poor health, and his sister Eva needs someone to look after her. To him, family is more important than country. So he hides out in the surrounding mountains and ventures home from time to time to provide his sister with what she needs. Though there's a price on his head, many neighbors protect him and leave him food. One is Alma, a strong-willed woman who is in love with Ezra and rejects any suitors her father brings home.

The story is told in a combination of the third person and first person (via the journal Ezra keeps during his two years of hiding). This alternating viewpoint works nicely in letting the reader get inside Ezra's thoughts. Sims's knack for description is commendable.

Sims also has a skillful touch with dialect, not bogging down in phonetic spellings but letting the word choice and rhythm of the sentences suggest the Appalachian speech patterns. The dialogue in Hiding Ezra rings true. That—along with the strong sense of place and interesting characters—makes for a good Appalachian read.

I especially like the cover, done by Appalachian artist Willard Gayheart, whose work I admire.  A Gayheart print that I've owned for a couple of decades hangs over my fireplace.

The novel, despite its wonderfully lyrical prose and compelling story, is not without a few flaws. There are a couple of typos that an astute editor should have caught, but they don't distract from the flow. But something else an editor should have caught does puzzle me. On p. 180, Alma's father watches Alma and Ezra, who'd taken an early morning ride, "leading Diamond and old Glory, walking along side by side." As he continues to watch, a few sentences later "[t]hey climbed through the fence, and walked side by side." What became of the horses? Who unsaddled them and removed their bridles? (Note: As a horse-person, I'm picky about details involving horses. Other readers probably wouldn't have noticed this.) Nevertheless, I really did enjoy the book.

I first met Rita Quillen a number of years ago at the John Fox Festival in Big Stone Gap. One of my short stories had won a prize in the Lonesome Pine Short Story Contest, and I was there to collect my winnings. Quillen was one of the two speakers at the conference, and I was intrigued by the poems and part of a story she read. I figured she'd go places. Look like she has.

 

I think Arlo agrees.     

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Book Cover Cabin Door

Because I'm self-publishing Them That Go, an Appalachian coming-of-age novel, I'm responsible for lots of things besides just writing the book. One is cover design. Luckily, I know a guy who is adept at Photoshop and who can translate my ideas into something workable. But getting the cover just right takes time. I wanted to use a cabin door on the cover—specifically, the door on this cabin:

The above picture of my grandparents' home was taken in 1946. My grandmother is in front. The cabin isn't in such good shape anymore.  Recently, I posted the picture on Facebook for "Throwback Thursday," and several folks thought I should us it as the cover.

But the family cabin doesn't fit the novel. While it's a double-pen cabin with a dogtrot between the pens like the cabin in my book, the similarity ends there. The cabin in my book has a front porch. It has woods in front with a path going to it. A high mountain looms over it. My grandparents' cabin is not in a "holler" like the one in my book, so it's not going to be on the cover—just its door.

Here are some passages from Them That Go in which Annie, the 17-year-old narrator, mentions the cabin: 

  After I change out of my school clothes, I head deeper into the holler to see how Aint Lulie is doing. When the weather is warm, she will either be sitting on her front porch or else standing in her cabin door. But she is always waiting for me. “Come in, Honey, I swear you’re a sight for sore eyes,” she will always say.

  Annie provides some history of the cabin here:

 Aint Lulie’s cabin is a double-pen with an enclosed dogtrot between the two rooms. The part she mostly lives in was built around 1790 when Absalom Byrne, who’d seen the area a decade earlier when he was in the Revolutionary War, came over the mountains with his new wife and settled down. He’d gotten his land patent a year or two before, girded the trees so they’d die and be ready to cut and build with, and he’d picked out his cabin spot near a spring and sheltered by the mountain. He’d dragged big rocks near to where he’d build his cabin so he’d have foundation stones and chimney stones waiting. That fall he went back to Botetourt County, stockpiled some supplies, married his intended, and by early spring they had started for their new home.
 
My grandparents' cabin—at least the pen to the left—was built around 1852 by the previous owner, William Bernard. Later my grandfather covered the logs with clapboards from his sawmill. I don't say whether the cabin in the novel is clapboarded or not.

Annie's description of the interior and part of the outside:
 

The cookstove is . . .  on the opposite side of the fireplace from where we sit and the stovepipe connects it to the chimney. Aint Lulie has banked its fire for the night. After I leave, she will bank the fire in the fireplace and go to bed. She will not let the fire go out. “Not letting a fire go out is a sign of always having everything you need,” she says. She is a great believer in signs.

This room where we sit snug near the fire has all Aint Lulie needs. Besides the cookstove and fireplace, there’s her bed, a chest, a pie safe, a table with two chairs, a rocking chair, a cupboard, a washstand near the back door, and rows of shelves along one wall where she keeps some of the things she’s canned. Two iron skillets and some pans hang from the wall near the stove.

She keeps her clothes and her flour barrel and things she doesn’t use everyday in the other room, which also has a bed and dresser. As far as I know, no one has ever slept in that bed during my lifetime. But the bed is ready should it be needed. When I once asked her why she never builds a fire in there, she replied, “It’ud be a waste of good wood with nobody in there to keep warm.”

Some things from her garden—potatoes and cabbages and apples and dried herbs—are in the loft where it’s cooler. If it gets too cold, she climbs the steep steps and covers them with an old quilt so they won’t freeze. She keeps her slop jar in the dogtrot, for privacy I reckon. But she mainly uses it only at night or if it’s too cold or rainy for her to go to the outhouse.

The room where she does most of her living has a front door and window that both face the road, which you can’t see because of all the trees. In the old days, a pasture and some cleared cropland was there, but there’s no longer a need for such. Scott would have cleared the woods and pastured his cows there if he’d lived, but that won’t happen now.

     Aint Lulie’s back door faces her garden spot and the mountain, and there’s a narrow path that branches on the right to the outhouse and on the left to the spring. Aint Lulie still uses the spring sometimes even though she has the pump near the house. She’s not one to let go of the old ways.

A main theme of the novel is about staying and going. According to Aint Lulie, "There's always been them that go and them that stay in ever' generation." People use a door to come (and stay a while) or to go. The door is important in a few scenes.

So, what does the front cover look like? Here 'tis:

 
The novel should be available in a few weeks. Stay tuned to this blog for updates.

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