Book Review: A Death in the Family

I hear my father; I need never fear. I hear my mother; I shall never be lonely, or want for love. When I am hungry it is they who provide for me; when I am in dismay, it is they who fill me with comfort. When I am astonished or bewildered, it is they who make the weak ground firm beneath my soul; it is in them that I put my trust. … I hear my father and my mother and they are my giants, my king and my queen, beside whom there are no others so wise or worthy or honorable or brave or beautiful in this world. I need never fear: nor ever shall I lack for loving-kindness.

How is it possible, I mean, seriously, how is it possible that I have never read this classic novel by James Agee? That in 4 years of high school taking every possible English-type class, 4 years in college as an English major, and 2 or 3 years in graduate school as an English/creative writing major, no one ever put Agee on a reading list? I don't get it.

A Death in the Family is, truly, an American classic. In this beautifully lyrical, autobiographical novel, Agee presents the life of the boy Rufus. Rufus is a cherished son in a tiny family with a big extended family. Preceding the novel is the stunning narrative piece called "Knoxville: Summer, 1915." This piece is a slow, dreamy observation of a summer night in a neighborhood from a child's perspective. The novel then opens with the happy life of the Follet family. They are working class people, and Mary and Jay adore each other and their two young children. Grandparents, aunts, and uncles are also central to the family dynamic, and together they make up Rufus's world.

The book is sectioned between straight narrative and Rufus's stream-of-conscious observations. The thoughts of Rufus were heartbreakingly beautiful. I'm not sure I've ever read a more apt description of the happiness and security that comes with being in the midst of a loving, stable family. Agee's narrative writing is simple but powerful; his "Rufus sections" are pure poetry. The combination is staggering.

But Rufus's perfect world must inevitably end. One hot summer night, Jay Follet take a late-night drive to his dying father's bedside north of Knoxville, and on the way home he has a fatal car accident. The rest of the novel dances between Mary's coping, funeral preparations, and the viewpoint of Rufus and his baby sister Catherine. It's all devastating, and like Mary, the reader hopes there has been some mistake.

I have to wonder if I love this novel so much partly because it takes place in Knoxville. I love thinking of Agee's old city, and do certainly delight in watching a Shakespeare performance on the same Market Square that Agee details when Rufus buys his first cap or driving by James Agee St. up on the UT campus. But regardless of place, this is southern literature at its best.

Book Review: The Serpent Handlers

And these signs shall follow them that believe: In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues. They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.
~Mark 16:17-18

Earlier this summer, our local library advertised that authors Fred Brown and Jeanne McDonald would be speaking about their book, The Serpent Handlers. I wasn't able to go to the seminar, but I did find several copies of the book at the library the next week. I have a weird fascination with religious fringe groups, like the fundamentalist LDS movement as described in John Krakauer's Under the Banner of Heaven.

Brown and McDonald introduce three serpent-handling families: the Brown family very near us in Parrottsville, TN; the Coots family of Kentucky; and the Elkins family of West Virginia. All three families have long histories of being involved in "taking up serpents"; all three have suffered several deaths in their families and congregations from snake bites.

The authors handle the lives of the snake-handlers gracefully and graciously. While it would be easy to mock the handlers for making Mark 16 a literal and vital part of their faith, Brown and McDonald recount their beliefs without bias and then allow the individuals themselves to tell their own stories. It's up to the reader to come to his or her own conclusions about this faith tradition.

Living in East Tennessee, I've long been aware of that snake-handling is not a thing of the past, but I didn't know much about it. (I've been told that there is at least one church just 10 minutes away, but the churches don't exactly advertise widely.) It's easy to smirk at what seems like such bunk, but after reading the testimonies of the handlers in this book, I do have a much greater understanding of these believers also known as Signs Followers. (Other signs are followed are handling fire, healing, drinking strychnine and other poisions, and casting out demons. Not all members follow all the signs.) I think what was made especially clear is that the signs are not the primary focus of the church members, but rather an element of worship. Also emphasized is that snake-handling and other signs-followings are not attempts to prove faith but are done to confirm the Word of God.

But honestly, while I do have more of an understanding, I still find it all bizarre and, frankly, taken out of context.

Interestingly, two articles in our local newspaper in the past few months reference snake-handling. This one most recently reports that Gregory Coots, one of the handlers featured in this book, was arrested by wildlife officers in a crackdown of the venomous snake trade. And this article details how the curator of the herpetology department at the Knoxville Zoo went out in the fields to collect snakes with a local snake-handling preacher.

If you're curious about life in Appalachia or in religious traditions, I'd highly recommend this book. The writing is excellent and purely unbiased and the personal narratives are fascinating.

Sunday Scribbling #125: How I Met My [fill in blank]

This week's Sunday Scribblings asks: How did you meet your significant other, your best friend, your dog, your nemesis? On the flip side of that, are there any people in your life you have lost touch with who you wonder about?

I'd love to talk about people I've lost touch with and wonder about, but since I already have the "how I met my husband" post on my other blog, I'll just take the easy way out this week and do a little cutting and pasting.

Our love story is very long and complicated. There are many twists and turns along the path that led to me become the other half of SmallWorld. It is much easier to say, “We met in college,” which is entirely true.

But more precisely, I spotted Dr. H. whose real name is Randy. I was a sophomore, and my friend Brenda and I returned from summer break a few days early, during freshmen weekend. I believe that we came specifically because our boyfriends had to be back early to start basketball practice and we wanted to see them, but we absolutely, in spite of our boyfriends, engaged in much previewing of freshman boys.

And in he walked. Brenda and I were in the cafeteria, facing the doors so that we could see everyone who came in. So in walks Randy, with that bounce in his step. He was wearing black Reboks with paisley shoe strings and striped shorts. He was very tan and had gorgeous long brown hair. And earrings. “Who IS that guy?” I asked. (I don’t know who I asked, but someone.) “That’s Greg Small’s brother,” I was told. (Background information: Randy’s older brother Greg had graduated from this same college a couple of years beforehand but lived nearby in an apartment.)

So I kept my eye on him. But I had this boyfriend that I was crazy about, and that was all very complicated. So Randy and I became good friends. We hung out. His best friends were my best friends. But I had this boyfriend…

FAST FORWARD. So over Christmas break that year, this boyfriend quit school and dumped me. That was very sad. But heartaches mend quickly at 19. Back at college in January, Randy and I exclaimed our jubilation that we were both relationship-free. We held hands for the first time at the Italian Village. He sent me flowers for my 20th birthday. We kissed in the lobby of my dorm. For Valentine’s Day, we cooked spaghetti together. And it was all very, very nice.

The first seven months were pure bliss. We were madly in love. I’m pretty sure I’d never been happier in my life, nor felt more completely myself with anyone. And then— kerplunk, kerplooey—it all fell apart. I don't even remember the circumstances, but we broke up and it was devastating. And then, at Perkins late studying one night, we got back together again. We sang, “Reunited” while walking around the swimming pool outside Perkins. (Why was there a swimming pool outside Perkins, anyway?) And then at Christmas, we broke up again. And then…yeah. That happened a lot. A whole, whole lot. We were “on a break” more often than not. And since I don’t like to dwell on that year of on-and-off…

FAST FORWARD. So after a year of on-again/off-again, I said, “Enough.” I remember wondering who in the world I was and knowing that I had to release Randy in order to reclaim myself. Oh, that was a very good thing. And it was very hard. Randy started dating my best friend’s roommate. Did I mention that we went to a very small college? That everyone knows everyone’s business? That you can’t help but run into your ex-boyfriend and his silly new girlfriend everywhere? Oh, and that my best friend and her roommate-who-was-now-dating-my-future-husband lived right below me, and that my window looked out on the parking lots, and that every time that roommate and my ex-boyfriend/future husband walked out to his car, I was watching? Yeah, that was stinky.

But I had my own new boyfriend pretty soon, and he was fun. We laughed a lot, and he liked to quiz me every now and then: “Are you still in love with Slim?” (His name for Randy.) “No, no, of course not,” I’d reply.

Yep, he was fun, the boy I would never have married. And my girlfriends! Oh, we had the most amazing times together. We lived in constant angst, but a delightful kind of angst. We painted poetry on my dorm-room walls and made mixed tapes. We went to here bands and danced the night away as often as possible. We didn’t care about our sort-of boyfriends, because we knew they were temporary. We were so, so free.

What I really gained after breaking up with Randy was myself. I was healing. I was gaining perspective. I remembered who I was. And somewhere in there, I really did let Randy go. I remember understanding that I would never love anyone as completely as I had loved him. But I knew I could move on with my future. I would marry someone who treated me well. I would love him. But the great passion of my life happened by age 21.

There was a poem by Gary Snyder that burned into my heart. Like the poet, I would live; I would endure. But I would live remembering:

After college I saw you
One time. You were strange.
And I was obsessed with a plan.

Now ten years and more have
Gone by: I've always known
where you were--
I might have gone to you
Hoping to win your love back.
You still are single.

I didn't.
I thought I must make it alone. I
Have done that.

Only in dream, like this dawn,
Does the grave, awed intensity
Of our young love
Return to my mind, to my flesh.

We had what the others
All crave and seek for;
We left it behind at nineteen.

I feel ancient, as though I had
Lived many lives.

(Excerpted from “Four Poems for Robin”)

And so I graduated from college. Randy was there, and that weekend there was a graduation party at a friend’s house. We all brought white t-shirts to autograph for each other. And what Randy wrote on mine clearly meant to communicate to me that he was missing me. (Did I mention that he and his silly girlfriend had broken up a few months beforehand?)

But still, I had this fun, uncomplicated boyfriend. Who went away on a trip for two weeks after I graduated.

So one evening my girlfriends and I were watching the classic horror flick from my childhood, Let’s Scare Jessica to Death. (Hmmm. Perhaps I should write a post someday about all the scary movies I saw when I was a child.) This particular movie scared me just as much at 22 as it did at age seven, so we decided to go check out the local music scene instead. I can’t remember who was playing, but it was warm night in June, and some of us were sitting outside in the parking lot, leaning on cars. And then it was just Randy and me.

And that was it. Nearly three years after we'd first met, and eight months after our final break-up—the big one—there was that sublime moment of realizing that this—this moment—begins our life. There should have been symphonies and fireworks lighting up that June sky. It was a moment I can still see so clearly: the young girl and boy in their t-shirts and shorts, sitting on the hood of an old car on a warm East Tennessee night. He quotes a song to her. They know: this is forever. They kiss. Friends peer at them from inside the building, pointing and whispering: “OH MY GOODNESS! Randy and Sarah are back together!”

All is right with the universe. This is the way it was always meant to be, but sometimes we have to do things the hard way.

June 4th we met for breakfast in the park. We had jelly donuts and Five Alive. I wrote my uncomplicated boyfriend a letter and broke up with him. As it turns out, he was always right about Slim.

In September we said, “Hey! We could get married!”

In March, we did.

And we still have spaghetti every Valentine’s Day.

(Do you have your own story to tell? Check out Sunday Scribblings.)

Booking Through Thursday: Libraries

Today's Booking Through Thursday asks: whether you usually read off of your own book pile or from the library shelves NOW, chances are you started off with trips to the library. (There’s no way my parents could otherwise have kept up with my book habit when I was 10.) So … What is your earliest memory of a library? Who took you? Do you have you any funny/odd memories of the library? (Inspired by Booksplease)

*****

I feel certain that the public library was about the first place my parents found when they moved from Carbondale, Illinois to Geneva, New York when I was but 15 months old. When I was just learning to read, the tiny library had one bookshelf devoted to children's books. I can remember squatting at the shelf, picking out books, as my mother chose her books in the library's remaining 20 or so bookshelves. I loved everything about the library, from the gentlemen reading the newspapers in the leather chairs to the ornate woodwork on the banisters.

When I was about nine or 10, the basement of the library was turned into an entire children's section. Now this was pure bliss. My mother could browse upstairs while I browsed all by myself downstairs. I remember when I was about 11, looking for books in the card catalog about adolescence. I must have read this word somewhere and understood that I was entering the stage, so I thought I should check out books that would enlighten me. No doubt I found some.

What do you remember about your childhood library? See more posts at Booking Through Thursday.

Book Review: Jimmy's Stars

This is Day 2 for me on the Jimmy's Stars book tour. My Day 1 post discusses a bit about the author, Mary Ann Rodman, and how much my daughter and I loved this novel about a working-class community during WWII.

Today my daughter was filling out a "My Favorite...." chart for the start of our school year. Her favorite book? Jimmy's Stars. What makes this novel a favorite for her, a typical nearly 11-year-old girl?

1. The main character, Ellie, is an authentic "every girl." She has strengths and weaknesses. She struggles, she cries, and she has small victories. Although she is a 1940s girl, her character transcends time, and a girl of 2008 can relate to her.
2. Rodman makes the setting somehow familiar, yet she liberally scatters unique war-era traditions/concepts and subtly explains them: rationing, phrases like "for the duration," the explosion of women in the workforce, the fear of the telegram, the hatred of Hitler, the strong belief that soldiers were heroes. In other words, today's readers are provided with a clear explanation of how life was then, but without it sounding like a history lesson.
3. Ellie and her family are not the perfect all-American family like the Brady Bunch. They all fight, the parents are tired, and they have to eat salmon pea-wiggle. But there is an abundance of love, evident in small gestures and in their pulling together.
4. The book is sad, but Ellie is strong. There is closure without necessarily a happy ending.
5. Rodman has a knack for writing dialog that is true. There's no artificial, excessive speech—just real stuff.

We loved Jimmy's Stars. Below is a list of other stops on the blog tour. I particularly enjoy the two-part interview with Mary Ann Rodman over at Maw Books. Tomorrow I'll talk about other WWII literature that would make good companion pieces for Jimmy's Stars.


1 Charger, A Childhood of Dreams, A Christian Worldview of Fiction
A Mom Speaks, All About Children’s Books, Becky’s Book Reviews, Book Review Maniac, By the Book Reviews, Dolce Bellezza, Fireside Musings, Home School Buzz, Looking Glass Reviews, Maggie Reads, Maw Books, The Friendly Book Nook, The Hidden Side of a Leaf

Book Tour: Jimmy's Stars by Mary Ann Rodman

"The two people Ellie McKelvey hated most were Adolf Hitler and Victoria Gandeck. Hitler lived in Germany, but Victoria was just across the alley. And right now, Ellie hated Victoria more."

For the next few days I'll be featuring Jimmy's Stars as part of Mary Ann Rodman's book tour. This tour is sponsored by Kids Book Buzz, a blog devoted to promoting quality children's literature.

My 10-year-old daughter and I have been reading this book together in the evenings for a couple of weeks now. According to her, this is "one of the best best books ever." (This is a child who has been getting a daily dose of classic read-alouds since birth; in other words, we've read a lot of books together.) I have been reading aloud to her since I am the one actually writing the review, but she couldn't resist reading ahead a couple of chapters on her own most nights.

The book is targeted to the 9-12 year old audience. The central character is 11-year-old Ellie McKelvey, an average girl from a blue-collar family. The setting: working-class neighborhood in Pittsburgh in September 1943. The central conflict: the affects of World War 2 on Ellie, her family, friends, and the community, shown primarily through Ellie as she tries to deal with her beloved brother, Jimmy, being off at war.

Author Mary Ann Rodman’s debut novel, Yankee Girl, was chosen as a VOYA Top Shelf Fiction for Middle School Readers and an NCSS-CBC Notable Trade Book in the Field of Social Studies. My daughter and I will be checking this one out together soon! Rodman's My Best Friend is for younger readers, as are her upcoming First Grade Stinks and Surprise Soup.

We still have 2 more chapters to read in Jimmy's Stars, so I'll post my actual review of the book tomorrow. Suffice it to say: my daughter and I both loved it. More stops on the book tour are listed below:

01 Charger, A Childhood of Dreams, A Christian Worldview of Fiction
A Mom Speaks, All About Children’s Books, Becky’s Book Reviews, Book Review Maniac, By the Book Reviews, Dolce Bellezza, Fireside Musings, Home School Buzz, Looking Glass Reviews, Maggie Reads, Small World Reads, The Friendly Book Nook, The Hidden Side of a Leaf

The Sunday Salon: Lakes and Snakes

I spent the first two weeks in August visiting my parents' home, which is on one of the beautiful Finger Lakes in upstate New York. (Saying "my parents' home" doesn't sound quite right as it was once my home, too. But saying "my hometown" doesn't ring true, as I consider where I live now to be my hometown; nor does saying "my childhood home" sound quite accurate as I lived there mostly during my teen years.)

Anyway: suffice it to say I spent a lot of time reading out on the dock while the kids swam in Seneca Lake. We also spent a total of 28 hours in the car (round trip), and I'm fortunate to be one of those people who can read in the car. So here is my total vacation reading list and reviews of several of the books:
The Miracle at Speedy Motors (Alexander McCall-Smith)
The River King (Alice Hoffman)
On Chesil Beach (Ian McEwan)
Atonement (Ian McEwan)
The Secret Between Us (Barbara Delinsky)
Liar's Club (Mary Karr)
A Death in the Family (James Agee)

and yesterday I finished The Serpent Handlers by Fred Brown and Jeanne McDonald, which I began somewhere in the middle of Virginia heading south on Interstate 81.

What a fantastic two weeks of reading. There were no "losers" in those eight books, although The Secret Between Us was not of the same caliber as the rest. Still, even that was entertaining—and sometimes we just need to be entertained. The three highlights for me were Ian McEwan's two and James Agee's Pulitzer-winning classic. I've heard so much about McEwan, and I was not disappointed. And as far as Agee goes, my only disappointment is that I never encountered his writing in all my many years as an English major in college and graduate school, and that I didn't make this novel required reading for my American Lit class last year. What a shame. And I'm mad at all my English teachers and profs for not introducing Agee to me ever.

A surprise for me was how much I enjoyed the nonfiction account of serpent-handlers. I have a weird fascination with religious fringe movements, like the fundamentalist LDS movement as described in John Krakauer's Under the Banner of Heaven. Brown and McDonald handle the lives of the snake-handlers gracefully and graciously, but I'll tell all about that in my upcoming review.

This week I'll be joining several other bloggers on Kids Book Buzz for a tour of Mary Ann Rodman's new WWII novel, Jimmy's Stars. I've been reading this with my 10-year-old daughter for the past couple of weeks, and she calls it "one of the best books ever." In fact, I'm going to go join her now and read the last two chapters.

Happy Sunday!