Black Pearls: A Faerie Strand by Louise Hawes
Hardcover: 224 pages, from Houghton Mifflin
Book Review by Lonnie Busch
Lush, Buoyant, Terrifying, and Heartbreaking. What Hawes has accomplished with her new collection of stories, Black Pearls: A Faerie Strand, is nothing short of Brilliant! This is not just a retelling of the oldest and most cherished fairy tales you heard as a child, but a bold and breathtaking re-envisioning of such memorable stories as The Pied Piper, and Hansel and Gretel. Through Hawes’ powerful imagination and stunning prose, these stories have “grown up,” infused with a mature and wondrous new charm.
At first glance you won’t recognize the names of the stories in the Table of Contents; Hawes has chosen to rename her tales. But for those of you intimately familiar with these unforgettable classics, you will not be far into Hawes’ first story, “Dame Nigran’s Tower,” before you recognize the theme of Rapunzel. But what’s different is that Hawes has chosen to tell the story from the witch’s point of view, and not the horrible witch from the original tale who was so easy to hate and fear with her warts and pointy nose and bony hands, but a beautiful witch who risks her magical ability to fly, for a chance to experience the power of human love. These are compassionate, sophisticated stories that will hold you spellbound for hours, long after you’ve put the book down.
But be warned: not everyone in these stories lives happily ever after. Through the vehicle of these re-imagined tales, Hawes’ artfully exposes human nature in all its forms—at once raw and devastating, then beautiful and courageous—unwilling to take false paths for happier solutions. Hawes stays true to the story she’s fashioned, committed to the characters she’s shaped, faithfully following them through the dismal, dank forest if that’s where they lead. But even at their darkest, these stories manage to lift you up with their boundless energy and daring, their genius and empathy, their unwavering heart and soul.
Hawes is known for her virtuosic writing and her ease of transitioning between genres, producing YA Novels, Middle Grade Novels, Picture Books, and several short fiction collections. Her work has garnered awards from the Children's Book Council, the Young Adult Library Services Association, the Center for Children's Books, the New York Public Library, and the International Reading Association. It is due to her amazing command of language and literary genius that Hawes is able to imbue these mature stories with fairy tale magic. Through the enchantment of Hawes’ magnificent prose, I was transported back in time, not to my own childhood, but a realm where time has never existed, and yet, in terms of human spirit, not so different from today.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Rare and Powerful Stories
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Brenda Kay Ledford at Coffee With the Poets
Wednesday May 28, 10:30 a.m.
All writers of poetry whether free verse, formal or writers of children’s poetry are welcome to come and share a poem.
Those who enjoy poetry and just want to listen and visit with the poets are cordially invited as well.
Brenda Kay Ledford, poet, writer and storyteller from Clay County, will read from her award-winning chapbooks Shewbird Mountain and Patchwork Memories. She might tell a story as well.
Coffee with the Poets is held on the fourth Wednesday of the month. This event is sponsored by North Carolina Writers’ Network West as a means of fellowship among writers and to promote poetry and poets in western North Carolina, North Georgia and East Tennessee.
Elizabeth Rybicki offers, from Crumpets Dessertery, coffee, tea and delicious dessert at a special price to attendees of this event.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
2008 Poetry and Essay Contest in Murphy, NC
Awards for the 2008 Poetry &, Essay Contest were presented on Tuesday, April 22, at Shoebooties Restaurant in Murphy. Students with winning entries were presented with savings bonds from the following sponsors: Curiosity Shop Bookstore – $100; The Daily Grind & Wine – $100; N.C. Writers Network West – $75; Reiki Mountain Center of Natural Healing – $75; Blue Moon Elise – $50; First Citizens Bank - $50. In addition, Shoebooties gave each winner a free dinner.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Begin in the Middle!
A look at Ron Rash’s new collection of fiction, Chemistry and Other Stories
Book Review by Lonnie Busch
In Chemistry and Other Stories, Ron Rash’s most recent collection of short stories from Picador, Rash does exactly what Aristotle suggested to young writers over 2000 years ago; he starts his stories in medias res—“In the middle of things.” Aristotle knew that for a story to be successful, it had to focus on the main conflict immediately. Rash executes Aristotle’s idea flawlessly in this fine collection.
The spring my father spent three weeks at Broughton Hospital, he came back to my mother and me pale and disoriented, two pill bottles clutched in his right hand as we made our awkward reunion in the hospital lobby. So begins “Chemistry,” the title story of Rash’s collection. Rash drops the reader in the middle of things by cutting to the heart of the conflict in the first sentence. He follows “Chemistry” with “Last Rite.”—When the sheriff stepped onto her porch, he carried his hat in his hands, so she knew Elijah was dead.
If you study Rash’s lead-ins closely, you’ll see a pattern emerge; Rash always starts with characters—characters at the edge of peril, conflict, or confusion, characters with their bare toes curled over the precipice of change. Lately, it seems, fiction in some of the finest literary journals attempts to entice readers into its fictional web with initial offerings no more challenging than weather reports, bird nests, and hammered metal bells. Rash understands the structure of effective storytelling and how to imbue a tale with urgency. He starts so precisely, it’s hard to imagine his stories could begin anywhere other than where they do. His lead sentence always elicits questions and evokes mystery. Once his story’s in full swing, Rash sketches in supporting events and backstory with the deft of a magician, never releasing the spell he casts with his initial image.
I met Lee Ann McIntyre on a date suggested by my wife. From Rash’s story, “Honesty.” How can bird nests and metal bells possibly compete with lead-ins like these? Or the first sentence of “Dangerous Love.”—When Ricky threw his knife and the blade tore my blouse and cut into flesh eight inches from my heart, it was certain as the blood trickling down my arm that something in our relationship had gone wrong. This is powerful writing and exquisite storytelling. Let’s not forget, Rash is also a poet. He knows about economy of language and writes like he has to pay for each and every word out of his own pocket. John Gardner, author of October Light, Mickelsson’s Ghost, and many other titles, once remarked that every line of poetry should be “red meat.” Rash obviously knows to stick to the main course, serving it up hot from the inception.
When Pemberton returned to the North Carolina mountains after four months in Boston settling his father’s estate, among those waiting on the train platform was a woman pregnant with Pemberton’s child. From “Pemberton’s Bride.”
Like a riptide, Rash’s openings sweep the reader into the story, making compelling promises to his audience, and delivering on those promises each and every time. These aren’t tricks, or slight of pen; this is solid storytelling at its best. After the second time his hardware store had been robbed, both times at night, Marshall Vaughn bought a pistol. That from “Deep Gap,” and this from Rash’s O. Henry Award winning short story, “Speckled Trout.”—Lanny came upon the marijuana plants while fishing Caney Creek. This, like many of the other beginnings in this collection, is simply elegant and astonishingly provocative. Chemistry and Other Stories is undoubtedly one of the most enjoyable collections I’ve read in a long time, and could serve as a valuable primer for new writers and veterans alike, a precious reminder of how powerful story beginnings can be.
Thirteen Moons on Audio
Some books are better listened to than read. I never thought I’d say that until I heard Will Patton read Charles Frazier’s Thirteen Moons. Frazier’s use of language compells me to listen to every word. I’m not sure I’d have waded through all the description and wordiness while reading it, but I have savored every detail I heard from Will Patton, my favorite reader on audio books.
Cold Mountain was an easy read, and the book haunted me for a long time. I even thought the movie was excellent. I had heard that Thirteen Moons was not as good a novel as Cold Mountain, and I’m not caught up in the actual story as much as I was in Frazier’s first book. But I find myself writing down phrases I hear on the audio version such as “beans basined in her apron.” Frazier paints the image I remember of my own mother who gathered beans or peas and made a "basin" with her apron in lieu of a bucket or pan.
With a life too full to have time for my own writing, I find myself seldom having time to read as much as I'd like. Books on CD are perfect. I spend much of each day driving. That time is not wasted if I am listening to a good book. Like my friend Estelle, I plan to make comments and mark special places in the margins of Thirteen Moons, the printed version. She does that with books by Terry Kay and Howard Bahr.
I only have one question I’d like to ask Mr. Frazier. He tells of cooking quail over an open fire, and he mentions using butter. He describes the meal and use of herbs, but I don’t understand how men who are on horseback riding day after day in search of Indians, manage to keep butter in their bags. Surely it would melt since there was no ice. Maybe I missed something and didn’t hear Will Patton explain this.
Charles Frazier and Will Patton. That's a fine combination.
Writers in Henderson, Transylvania and other counties in the Netwest area are invited to the Henderson county library, Monday, June 16, 5:30 pm. Ed Southern, Executive Director of the North Carolina Writers' Network and Glenda Beall, Program Coordinator of NCWN West will be there to talk and answer questions pertaining to the Network and Netwest. Nancy Purcell, Netwest Rep for Transylvania County, and Al Manning, Rep for Haywood County plan to be on hand to talk about what Netwest members and writers are doing in their areas. This is an effort to learn what writers want and how NCWN can help them meet their goals.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
John Foster West, North Carolina poet, writer, teacher, mentor and activist
His wrote his first book of poetry "Up Ego" while he was teaching at Elon College in 1951.
In 1965, John received wide acclaim for his first novel, "Time Was" published by Random House. The publishers submitted his novel to be considered for a Pulitzer Prize.
Other books were: "Appalachian Dawn," 1973 a sequel to "Time Was," the "Ballad of Tom Dula," 1990 and the Appalachian Consortium's Appalachian Fiction Award, "The Summer People" in 1989.
In addition to varied contributions to magazines and other periodicals, books of poetry include: "This Proud Land," photography by Bruce Roberts, "Wry Wine" and "High Noon at Pompeii."
John received many awards and acknowledgements during his prolific career. He has appeared in "Who's Who in the South and Southwest," "Who's Who Among American Scholars," "Contemporary Authors" and the "Dictionary of International Biography." He served as past president of the NC Writers Conference, NC Folklore Society and Sigma Delta Chi, the professional journalism fraternity.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Clarence Newton, NCWN West poet and writer
by Glenda Beall
I enjoy seeing white-haired Clarence Newton arrive at Netwest readings because I know I will learn a bit about something I didn’t know or learn to see in a different way, something I already knew. While reading his essays or poetry, Clarence holds his audience in the palm of his hand.
Clarence seems younger than his 82 years, and his poetry and newspaper columns give evidence of a long life spent in careful observation of the world we have made for ourselves. His keen observations of birds and their habits, rueful observations on marriage, men and women, are all subjects he is adept at boiling down to a few succinct verses in a poem or an essay. He had a long career in aviation as well as years of studying law, a stint in the Navy, and in retirement -- the study of writing. He also teaches a course in driver’s safety for seniors. Self-effacing, Clarence will likely be embarrassed that I have made him the subject of this article.
I first met Clarence through the pages of the Towns County Herald, local newspaper in Hiawassee, GA where Clarence and his wife, Lorraine, live. Reading his column I got a kick out of his tongue in cheek views of politics or his shedding light on the absurdity of problems the media shouts at us daily. His essays have appeared in the Atlanta Journal Constitution, the Smoky Mountain Sentinel and the Gainesville Times.
Those of us who attend Coffee with the Poets, where Clarence is a favorite participant, welcome his well-crafted lyric poems, or narratives which often end with a wry final verse. He leaves us either laughing or crying, but always applauding. As far as I know, Clarence has never submitted a poem for publication. I hope he will compile his poetry into a book. I will be the first in line for my copy.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
John C. Campbell Readings May 15, 7:00 p.m.
Brenda Kay Ledford, a native of Clay County, North Carolina, writes about what she knows best; life in Clay County and the people of the Appalachians. Her work has a warmth that is only achieved by experience and a keen awareness of her surroundings. Her first poetry chapbook, Patchwork Memories, received the 2005 Paul Green Multimedia Award from North Carolina Society of Historians.
Shirley Uphouse, former Program Coordinator for Netwest, of Murphy, North Carolina, writes essays and short ficiton. She has taught Creative Writing at Tri County Community College for several years and has been an AKC dog show judge for twenty years. Her interest in purebred dogs is the subject of articles published in magazines geared toward dog enthusiasts. She is presently working on a book about her life with her dogs.
Both writers are members of the North Carolina Writers Network West (Netwest), which sponsors the monthly readings at the John C. Campbell Folk School in Brasstown, North Carolina.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
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Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Book Review by Gary Carden
Huntsville: Texas Review Press $12.95 – 65 pages
In reading the works of major Southern writers in recent years, a singular theme repeatedly emerges: the protean nature of water. In the novels of Ron Rash, water appears as both lethal and life sustaining (Saints at the River); while in One Foot in Eden the building of a dam obliterates a small farming community. At other times, water is an agent of renewal or teasing mystery. In the writings of James Dickey (Deliverance) and William Gay (Provinces of the Night), water sometimes brings violent transformations. Lonnie Busch’s slender novella, Turnback Creek, manages to embody many of these diverse themes in this skillfully crafted work - only 65 pages – a truly amazing accomplishment! In essence, Turnback Creek represents a kind of literary distillation in which the author has stripped his story to a polished crux.This accomplishment has not gone unnoticed. Turnback Creek has received the Clay Reynolds Novella Prize and the praise of his peers, many of whom stress the work’s resemblance to a parable of life, death and redemption. The book’s protagonist, Cole Emerson, is a man who is in the process of “coming to terms” with his misspent life. Now in his 70’s, Cole finds himself living on a small farm in a remote section of Missouri. He has lived a heedless, nomadic existence as a heavy equipment operator, often bragging of pulling down a white-collar salary operating backhoes and tractors. He has little to show for it. At the end of his life, Cole, now a widower and estranged from his daughter, spends his days tending a dying sister. At night when the sister is sedated, he fishes a tributary of Hartman Lake called Turnback Creek and ponders the past. It is here that he first encounters Hannah, a naked fourteen-year-old girl, who emerges from the darkness one night, driving a backhoe through the moonlit woods adjoining the lake. Is she real? Is she perhaps a projection of Cole’s yearning for his own lost youth? Regardless, the naked girl behaves like a demonic sprite as she struggles to control the backhoe. The old man is transfixed by the girl’s antics. Further, Cole senses that she knows he is watching her, and when he turns his boat towards home, he sees the moonlit figure on a cliff above the lake. The next night, he is back, hoping she will appear again. In time, Cole comes face-to-face with the girl and learns that her name is Hannah. Despite daylight encounters that reveal Hannah to be a troubled and angry teenager with an alcoholic father, the old man continues to perceive her as a near-supernatural being. Cole becomes obsessed with Hannah and finds himself plagued by guilt and foreboding. He begins to brood about his former jobs – removing coffins from graveyards that are destined to be flooded, constructing dams and diverting rivers. When Hannah asks Cole to teach her to operate the controls of the backhoe, he discovers that she intends to dig a hole near her home … a hole deep enough to “bury a man so that he will never be found.” Finally, Cole perceives a disturbing parallel between Hannah’s irresponsible father and his own sire – another heedless, undependable man who mysteriously vanished one day as though “the earth had swallowed him.” There is much to admire in Turnback Creek. The beauty of Busch’s descriptive passages are noteworthy, especially those that capture the haunting imagery of a lake at night, the sheen of moonlit water and the plop of a lure. Reading these passages brought to mind, Any Cold Jordan by David Bottoms, another midnight fisherman who can capture the soft whistle of a cast line and the splash of a moon-drunk bass. Lonnie Busch is currently serving as co-editor (with Jubal Tiner) of the quarterly literary magazine, Pisgah Review, which is based at Brevard College.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Tired but Inspired in Greensboro
I sit here in Greensboro, NC tired, but inspired after spending all day at the Elliot Center at the UNC-G campus. NCWN held the 2008 Spring Conference here and it is the first time I've attended the annual spring conference. I usually make it a priority to register for the Fall Conferences in Asheville and last November we drove to Winston-Salem.
Most presenters for the conference today were on faculty at UNC-G.
My favorite part of the day was the Publishing Panel consisting of Scott Douglas of Main Street Rag, Kevin Watson of Press 53, Jeanne Leiby of Southern Review and a man from the Georgia Review, but I never understood his name. After a short talk by each member of the panel, I realized once again how important it is to know your market. Read the guidelines carefully and follow them. While the writer may not know it, the guidelines are specific for a reason. Douglas said it is a matter of resources. He hires editors to read submissions therefore, he makes it clear he does not want simultaneous submissions. The reason is obvious. After he has paid an editor to read work that he cannot publish because it has been accepted somewhere else, he is out that money with nothing to show for it. I can't blame him. Although Scott has grown MSR into quite a good business over the years since I first met him, he says he still sweeps the floors and binds the books. "It is easier to find a person to read submissions than to find someone to bind books," he said.
I didn't know until today that he prints books for a number of other magazines. He is still a rebel in this business and not so snooty as the Georgia Review. Their representative said don't send your poetry to them unless you don't mind letting them "meddle" with it. I got the impression that they "edited" or "meddled" with everything that goes in the magazine.
Scott, on the other hand, wants the work you send him to be ready for the printer when he gets it. He doesn't want to have to rewrite or work too much to make changes to a submission. And don't try to make changes after he has it ready to print.
Listening to some of the stories they told today made me a little more understanding of the editor's and publisher's problems with writers who are inconsiderate and hard to work with, who won't follow guidelines and seem to have no understanding of how a book is made..
Congratulations to Ed Southern and Virginia Freedman for the work they put in to bring us this great conference. Even though they had some challenges, no one knew it and things went off well.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Folk Drama
Almost one hundred years ago, a remarkable man named Fredrick Koch began teaching drama at the University of North Dakota. Within a decade, his accomplishments were noted by other universities, including the University of North Carolina and he was “invited” to design and launch a Carolina-based theatre program.
Koch pulled up stakes and came to Chapel Hill. The results changed American theatre forever. Koch encouraged his students to write one-act plays based on events drawn from the history of their home towns, their state and regional folklore. The results were remarkable. Over the next decade, his students wrote hundreds of plays on subjects ranging from ghost stories (Elizabeth Lay’s “When Witches Ride”) moonshine and bootlegging (Herbert Heffner’s ‘Don Gast Ye Both”), legends of outlaws (Paul Green’s “The Last of the Lowries,” and Thomas Wolfe’s “The Return of Buck Gavin,”) and the birth of Abraham Lincoln (“Nancy Hanks, Bondswoman.”)So began the Carolina Playmakers, one of America’s greatest theatrical movements. In time, these fledgling saw their plays produced and toured throughout the state. In the process, the Playmakers learned to build portable sets, design costumes and create essential lighting. Eventually, Koch published eleven volumes of folk drama and the folk drama movements spread, eventually taking root in other countries.
Many school children in North Carolina (circa 1920-1940) saw their first plays when the old Playmakers van arrived at their school. (I was in the 5th grade when I saw“Lost Horizon” and went back stage to see the airplane that flew over the town at the play’s conclusion. (It was a piece of cardboard pushed into an electric fan). Since the primary goal of the Playmakers was to promote an interest in theatre, their productions stressed simplicity – plays that could be done with a minimum of resources. Playmaker productions were often done in gyms, cafeterias and classrooms. The benefits were impressive. In addition to seeing a dramatic work, students learned about their region’s history and culture. Assuredly, the children who participated in these events found their lives immeasurably enriched and the memory of the Playmakers’ visit gave them a sense of pride in who they were and were they lived.
Which brings me to this conclusion. I think it is time to do it again. Is it within the realm of the possible that Writers Network West could be instrumental in launching a new “folk play movement”? Are there students in the high school in Hayesville or the Community College at Blue Ridge Community College who are capable of writing a one-act play? Could Writers’ Network West nurture this movement by monitoring progress? Arranging for productions of student-written play, planning a festival?
Comment, please.
Gary Carden
Gary reviews books at www.blogholler.blogspot.com
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Writing for Newspapers
Newsletters are an ideal way for writers to practice their craft and become known as writers in the community. Editors of existing newsletters welcome well written features, and a church or organization without a newsletter, if queried, would like to have one. Church newsletter feature subjects would include interviews and profiles of an elder, choir leader, church officer, or church school teacher. Historical topics are popular and might cover the person named on a stained glass window or a short anecdote told by one of the older church members or gleaned from old session notes (how the church got the organ, the balcony used for segregation, when the Presbyterian elder got so tired of session wrangling that he went to the Methodist Church for a while).
Some feature ideas are easy to research on the Internet. The liturgical colors which change during the year, and what Maundy Thursday means, for example, or the story behind a well known hymn.
Features about different departments would be welcome in hospital auxiliary newsletters. The special surgical helmets worn by surgeons; an interview with the Lifeline coordinator who mentions the times the call button is hit by accident by hugging a relative or having a cat step on one; how many individual meals the hospital food service serves and the different diets it accommodates or statistics about the number of dozens of eggs or pounds of coffee it uses every week/month/year are very interesting stories.
These newsletter features, used as publishing credits build resume portfolio clips, stepping stones for future writing positions and introductions to new editors. With prompting, the newsletter editor can write a short recommendation mentioning how the writer met deadlines, showed initiative, and the popularity of the articles.
By Peg Russell
reprinted with permission of The Perspiring Writer
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Writers and Poets Reading Stories and Poems
JC read a gory horror story which kept the listeners on the edge of their seats. Her husband Bob says JC finds ideas for her stories wherever they travel. Just one little incident can grow into an interesting mystery.
Paul Donovan gave one of his very best readings ever. With his tongue-in-cheek humor his poetry often ends with a twist, but a little of the dark slips into his work occasionally.
Reading in May, on the third Thursday, will be Shirley Uphouse, non-fiction writer and Brenda Kay Ledford, award winning poet. Time is 7:00 p.m. at John C. Campbell Keith House living room.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Jerry Hobbs on romance in the garden
by Jerry Hobbs
Though poetry is the true language of love, a romantic story can be successfully written in prose if certain rules are followed. For example:
The timeline and location should be clearly defined.
Introduce the protagonists.
Establish a valid reason for interaction.
Create tension, then resolution.
Use a device such as drama to launch emotion.
The emotion should nurture and build over a respectable period of time.
Closure should include a happy ending.
The Artichoke Affair – A Poetic Story of Romance – Written in Prose
It was spring.
The day was late.
The market was ready to close.
One artichoke remained.
He reached.
She reached.
Their hands touched.
Their eyes met.
They smiled.
They spoke.
A salad was shared.
A kiss was shared.
Love blossomed.
Summer arrived.
They wed.
THE END
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Are you a poet? Do you want to be a poet?
in late July. Whether narrative or meditative, sound is important in a poem.
Nancy is the best at teaching free verse poetry. If you haven't had the opportunity to take a class with Nancy, be sure to find some way to register for one. Go to http://www.folkschool.org/ and look under writing or under instructors and find her class. This is a beautiful time to visit the mountains of western North Carolina.
It was spring of 1995 when I took my first class with Nancy in the Orchard House at JCCFS. I remember asking her, "Is this a poem?" I was unfamiliar with elements of free verse poetry and had shared very little of my writing with anyone. From that time on, I practiced Nancy's advice on writing poetry and by 1996 I had published several poems. Over the years I studied with Nancy Simpson at every opportunity. Many of us in Clay, Cherokee, and Graham counties of NC and in Towns, Union, Fannin and Rabun counties in Georgia claim Nancy as our mentor. Through her classes at JCCFS, Nancy continues to teach and encourage students from all over the country in their quest to write and publish poetry.
Have you taken a class with Nancy Simpson? Please comment or email and let us know.
writerlady21@yahoo.com
Friday, April 11, 2008
Janice Townley Moore celebrates Poetry Month at Emory University
The conference celebrated three former United States poet laureates with readings and personal interviews during the several days. They were S. D. Snodgrass, Mark Strand, and Richard Wilbur. Other award winning poets also did readings and signed their books for the large and enthusiastic crowd attending.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
One of Gary Carden's wonderful Essays
ELECTRIC CORN SHELLERS
I remember a warm afternoon in August, 1949 when the county agent came to our house with an electric corn sheller. It was a demonstration model and had been a big hit at several large farms in the county. When the agent plugged it in, it hummed like a bee hive and smelled of hot oil and scorched corn cobs. The agent made a big thing out of shucking an ear of corn and holding it over the big slot in the top of the sheller. My grandfather stared at the contraption the same way he observed most “marvels of the future” – with distrust and fascination – the same way he looked at snakes and rabid groundhogs.
“Are you ready, Arthur?’ My grandfather grunted and the agent dropped the big ear of yellow corn into the slot.
“Zzzzit!” said the sheller and deposited a double handful of corn in the tin bucket beneath the sheller. The cob shot out of the side and ricocheted off the wall of the corn crib, thereby confirming my grandfather’s opinion that the sheller was probably dangerous. However, I was impressed The agent shucked a dozen ears and dropped them in the slot. “Zzzit, zzzit, zzzit, zzzit!” said the sheller until the bucket brimmed with yellow corn. I picked up the hot cobs like they were the hulls of shotgun shells.
“Now, you can shell in one afternoon what it would take you a week to shell with.... that!” He pointed contemptuously at our hand-cranked sheller in the corner. “How many Corn Zappers do you want?”
] My grand-daddy pulled the plug out of the wall, and the big hummer hushed. “I don’t want one,” he said.
The agent gawked. “Why not ?”
“Cause that was the way my daddy done it,” he said, pointing at the old sheller, “and that’s the way I’ll do it. Either that, or by hand.”
I was not pleased by my grandfather’s decision since I had spent untold afternoons and was now doomed to spend many more with that hand-cranked sheller, my arms aching and my fingertips numb and bloody from shucking. The agent shook his head as he carefully loaded the sheller in his car like it was a prize stud bulldog.
“You are fighting the future, Arthur,” he said. “It just makes good common sense to take advantage of things like this.”
“Maybe so, but there is something unnatural about all these ‘lectric gadgets,” he said, peering at the Zapper with distaste. “I don’t like it.”
As we watched the county agent’s car vanish in a cloud of dust down the Rhodes Cove road, Arthur Carden shook his head and delivered his judgment on time past and time to come: “Things have been bad, and they are gonna get worse.” That is what he would say when our dusty trail became a paved road and his own children insisted on getting a telephone. (He once tore the telephone off the wall and threw it into the cornfield because it rang constantly while we were eating supper.) He reluctantly accepted indoor plumbing but refused to drink city water. (“It ain’t healthy to drink water that has been standing in iron pipes.”) The most marked exception to his rejection was the big Silvertone radio. As soon as it produced Bill Monroe singing “Blue Moon of Kentucky,” it was given a corner of the living room where it squatted like a household god, delivering music (The Grand Ole Opry) and prophecies (Grady Cole’s Farm News).
Oddly enough, I seem to have inherited my grandfather's contradictory
attitude about technology. While I nurture a cautious appreciation for television, stereos and computers, I am extremely suspicious of anything that alters my environment or makes radical changes in my accepted mode of living. I especially resent being compelled to change. Living in my grandparents’ old house, I sometimes feel that I am under siege by aspects of progress that are either unwanted or deceptive. Several years ago my grandfather’s spring had to be abandoned when tests indicted that it was contaminated. Now, I have city water that probably stands in plastic pipes, and a telephone that rings incessantly due a host of “marketing specialists” in distant cities who call at inopportune times. My doctor tells me that my persistent cough is largely due to air pollution. (Right here in Rhodes Cove, folks!), and when I look from my porch at the Balsam Mountains, I am distracted by the grid-locked traffic on the Cullowhee road. A decade ago, I learned that I now live in the city limits, (if I think of an advantage to this new status, I’ll let you know!) and street lights have spread like malignant fireflies to the top of the ridge. At night, despite my deafness, I hear a constant medley of boom boxes, rap music and stripped gears. Rhodes Cove was once quiet (except for mournful hounds), peaceful and very dark. Now, the new, all-night convenience store over on the highway hovers in the dark like the mother ship in “Encounters of the Third Kind” and ambulances and highway patrol cars speed up and down the Cullowhee road with flashing lights and wailing sirens. Progress.
When “progress” would get to my grandfather, he used to talk about moving to “the Cove.” He owned an isolated piece of land in Macon county which, he assured me, was so far back, he would never hear another car horn, stripped gear or telephone. “Nothing but wind, night critters and running water,” he used to say. He took me to see it once, and we flushed quail and pheasant, fished and listened to whippoorwills. He didn’t get to go there when he retired, of course, (he didn’t retire) and I’m told that it now has a paved road and a dozen retirement homes, street lights and a security patrol. Progress.
All of this makes me think of a passage in the play, “Inherit the Wind.” Henry Drummond (Clarence Darrow) makes a comment on technology in which he envisions a little man in an office someplace who is in charge of “Progress.” You tell him the marvelous advantage that you want (flight, international communications, entertainment) and he tells you what you will have to sacrifice in order to have it. “You may have world travel in futuristic air ships,” he says, “but the birds will lose their wonder and the clouds will smell of gasoline.” He notes that you may have communication devices that will allow you to talk to foreign countries or distant planets, but “you must sacrifice forever the wonderful world of privacy.”
What is the answer, then, for people like me who grudgingly accept the benefits of technology and bitterly resent aspects of progress that are thrust on me without my consent? I have heard a few learned experts who advised the bewildered public to “readily accept innovation that is beneficial and reject that which is harmful.” Such profound conclusions are meaningless. How do you tell the difference? Sugar substitutes end up poisoning us, computers purvey pornography and some “genetically enhanced” grain are harmful to both cattle and humans. Small wonder that my grandfather was skeptical of electric corn shellers!
A few years ago, a prosperous fellow invited me to dinner in his home – one of those $250,000 “log cabins.” The house was full of furniture and objects from the Appalachian past: pie safes, a cider press, hand-carved furniture, shoe lasts and coffee mills. At one point, he invited me into another room to see “something that his grandfather gave him.” He pointed reverently to it on the wall, mounted like a trophy deer. A corn sheller. “My grandfather actually used it,” he said. I told him that I used one, too. He looked at me skeptically. “You can’t be that old,” he said.
Maybe I am an artifact, too. Maybe I should be preserved in formaldehyde and kept in a room lit by beeswax candles with a tasteful plaque under my embalmed husk that says something like “Extinct life form that once inhabited an undeveloped portion of Rhodes Cove.” Perhaps tasteful music could whisper from hidden speakers – Perhaps, “Blue Moon of Kentucky.” Perhaps I could have my own recorded message that could be activated by pressing a button – a message that says in a pronounced mountain twang, “Things have been bad, and they are going to get worse.”
See Gary's website and blog:
http://tannerywhistle.net
http://blogholler.blogspot.com/
