Chekhov in Indiana

Relentlessly pursuing my quest to learn the history behind every great independent bookstore in America, I recently visited Three Sisters Books and Gifts in Shelbyville, Indiana. I had made a mad dash up I-65 to make it in time to my great-grandmother's 115th birthday party, and since Breathing Out the Ghost includes scenes actually set in Shelbyville, I begged for a booksigning, figuring, if nothing else, there was a sufficient supply of kin in the area to make it worth their while. As I discovered, Three Sisters is a fabulous store and is much beloved in Shelby County. It is indeed operated by three sisters---Carolyn, Barbara, and Mary Kay---all of whom, like my mother and uncle and aunts, came from a farm family. Three Sisters has been vital to the revitalization of downtown Shelbyville; in fact, when the space next to them became available, several locals "encouraged" the sisters to expand their store to include a coffee operation. I admire the trio for taking the task on.

Perhaps the best compliment I can pay is a little epiphany I experienced during the signing. My eye happened to glance to the bookshelves, where is saw a copy of Gertrude Stein's Geography and Plays and F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. Then I looked out the window at my back and saw the square where I have so memories of coming to the Bears of Blue River festival with my grandmother and grandfather, Dorothy and Clifford Parker. It was as though to axes of my life had suddenly interstected, and, for a second anyway, I had the feeling of comfort that comes with knowing who you are because you know where you come from.

Please visit Three Sisters at http://www.threesistersbooks.com/index.html

I'm including three pics here: one is of moi with my uncle and aunt, Donald and Charlene Parker; yours truly with the three sisters of Three Sisters; and, finally, me with my mother, Beverly Curnutt, and my uncle Doc. My mom, Doc, and Sugar all inspired various aspects of the Pruitt family characters in Breathing Out the Ghost.

All the Gnus that Fits

The best part of taking a book on the road is learning the history of the bookstores that if you're lucky you get to visit. Last Friday Diane and I went to Auburn for a reading from Breathing Out the Ghost at a great used book shop called The Gnu's Room. It's located on Gay Street next to the Amsterdam Cafe. The event was part of the Sun Belt Reading Series, which is co-organized by one of our local fave poets, Emma Bolden, who also happens to be prolific as hell. The Gnu's Room was recently purchased by a group headed by a wonderful woman named Tina, who, in a quirk of circumstance, at one point years ago worked at River City. She, her partner Kelley, and three other investors took the store over this past fall and have done a great job building a new kids' reading room, a cultural studies section, and new furnishings. The more impersonal the big retailers become, the more intimate these mom 'n' pop bookstores feel. Folks like Tina do a great service not simply keeping books available; they also contribute to the community by offering a place to hang out and talk about the printed word. If you happen to be in Auburn, check it out: you can't lose at the Gnu's, I promise.

Black Magic

So, I was researching the next project this morning and part of that quest took me to the NPR site for a story they had on Morning Edition this past Thursday. And lo and behold, ESPN is advertising the documentary they're showing tomorrow night and Monday, "Black Magic," in which Ben Jobe is one of the featured coaches. Go here, http://espnblackmagic.secondthought.com/?ex_cid=2008_BNNR_BMGC_XXXX_AWRS_XXXX look at the clips, read the bios and interviews, and tell me you don't love this story. Go on, I dare you. Honestly. I double dare you.

Here's the thing:

Some of the comments we've been getting since Murder Creek came out have caused me to ponder a fundamental, albeit complex question: What is truth? When someone says, for instance (here: http://alabamaconfidential.blogspot.com/2008/02/shocking-non-fiction-book-about-brewton.html ) that only "5%" of what's in the book "may be true", I have to wonder, What in the world are they talking about? And, Why? I could answer (as I did) that I know of two errors in the book, insignificant errors, I would argue -- Mr. Caffey's education, which, plainly stated, just wasn't corroborated, and the precise location of Dr. Perry's office, the result of a misunderstanding, that's pretty easily explained -- but factual errors, nonetheless. Guilty. But I don't think the comment stemmed from a dispute over facts. I think it surfaced, instead, from a disagreement in belief systems. Here's what I mean: It seems to me there's very little legitimate argument about the facts of global warming, say, or the facts of evolution. There's considerable dispute, obviously, about the truth of either. The difference? Belief systems. What are the facts of Annie Jean's death? And what is the truth? In the system I prefer to operate in, truth can only be approached once you've accumulated all the available facts. That's all we tried to do with Murder Creek, and aside from those two previously noted, that's pretty much what we did. With enough facts, I think, the truth becomes obvious. Obvious truths are not always comfortable. Does that make them less true? I don't think so. All too often, uncomfortable truths -- like global warming and evolution -- are attacked rather than refuted. An alternate truth is proposed, and the necessary "facts" to support it are gathered together. But there's a name for that. It's called propaganda, at best. I'll discuss the facts of the book all day long, and will gladly retract any inaccuracies (although, with as many lawyers as there are out there, it's hard to imagine any writer getting away with a book that's 95% false). But if you don't like the truth those facts seem to suggest, I'm sorry, there isn't a thing I can (or would) do about that. That's the thing: Truth is, like it or not.

All's Well at the El

I want to thank everybody who came out Sunday for the book launch for Breathing Out the Ghost. I feel very blessed to have such good friends and family. A lot of people deserve kudos, but first and foremost: thanks to Ms. Carolyn, who not only organized the event but picked up my tab. Lord knows what a dent that can make in a publicity budget. Thomas and Cheryl took the afternoon to sell books, Bubba gave up his day off to man the bar, Stefania took her time to keep the crowd in gin and PBRs, Bruce lent a mic and PA, Jim and Kathy drove from Summerville and Chris and Tracie from Atlanta. Jim rushed back from Fairhope, Lissa skipped church, Jim and Suzanne stayed over an extra night, and Kristal and Star took pictures. Dr. Al took time from his rounds, and a lot of folks from Immanuel PC and Troy dropped by. Most of all, Diane and Kip were there. And, yes, the pics on the website make one thing clear: it's getting close to beard-shearing day. I'm starting to look like a very gray SOS pad.

And so...

That was the coda my grandfather, "Pop" Formichella, always used to signal the story he was telling was going to take a slightly different tack. They never ended, Pop's stories. He was forever telling stories. They just shifted, not always in a logical manner, mind you, thinking back to those visits to his house, dry goods store and sprawling yard in Summit, New Jersey, but always to the complete delight of his audience, regardless of age. Summer vacations there meant playing in that yard all day or rutting about in the adjoining garden, and evenings spent sitting around the picnic table listening to Pop. "And so," he'd say, slowly, at junctures only he knew -- hence, the signal -- and slide from reminiscing about his childhood back in Italy a century ago to the time he thwarted a would-shoplifter only to give him the shoes he was intent on stealing anyway, as easily as Fred Astaire shifting from a waltz to a tango. "And so..."
And so, we went to Brewton Thursday night. I was ready, as I said, for some measure of confrtontation, hoping, actually, for the dialogue. That didn't happen though. The people who stood waiting with book in hand to be signed -- the signing lasting so long we had to move to a less conspicuous table lest we infringe on Grayson's playing time, so long I had to resort to a back-up pen (thanks again to the woman who rifled through her purse and gave me hers) as mine ran out of ink -- were universally supportive of the project and appreciative of the book. But get this, none of the truly privileged Brewtonians showed up. As if they're still trying to deny the story, by refusing to acknowledge it. As if sticking their manicured fingers in their ears, closing their eyes and singing out "La, la, la, la, la, la, la..." they can make the story go away. Or maybe it was two-for-one steak night at the country club. I don't know. I do know this: the story's not going away. The more people get acquainted with it, the more they want to know, the more they talk about it. And then ever more people want to know what's up with this Murder Creek thing? And so...

World's Oldest American Farm Widow Doesn't Tell All

Folks who know me know my one modest claim to fame has nothing to do with my writing. It's the fact that my great-grandmother, Edna Parker, is 114 and is currently the world's oldest documented person. (The character of Ethel Brandywine in Breathing Out the Ghost is based in part on Edna---and I stress "partly"). I say "currently" and "documented" because over the weekend a woman emerged in Israel claiming to be 120. It's interesting.... When the news broke I actually had folks emailing me the story (BREAKING NEWS!), perhaps thinking we would cobble together some talking points for some proto-John McCain-style PR. Instead, I did a lot of reading on Miriam Amash. Apparently, the only documentation she has is a birth certificate from 1888, which was a good 60 years before Israel existed. Indeed, the bc is from the Ottoman Empire! (What, no drivers license?) Here is the full story:

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/news.html?in_article_id=515351&in_page_id=1770

It's an interesting question of how this will or won't be documented. It's a little known fact that the world of age verification can be quite cutthroat. Edna has one hell of a partisan in Mr. Robert Young, a certifier for the gerontology group that decides these things for the Guiness Book of World Records. Mr. Young also happens to be a Wikipedia enthusiast, which is why Edna has a handsome Wikipedia page. (She may be the only person in the world who doesn't read her own Wikipedia page). I've noticed over the past few days a little Wiki-war going on over whether to mention Miriam Amash in Edna's bio. On Monday, somebody had inserted a sentence insisting Edna was likely to lose her title. Now that sentence is gone---no doubt zapped by Robert, whom I met last April at the 114th birthday party.

All I can say that if Edna does go back down to No. 2 (her position from Jan-Aug 07, before she was elevated to No. 1), she'll be happy to be Hillary to Miriam's Barak. She's a very modest woman who gets embarrassed when folks gobble on about her age. Not to knock a supposed 120-year-old, but Mrs. Amash was quoted in the London papers as boasting of her status. Of course, that status won't be confirmed until more proof than Ottoman Empire paperwork can be found. Will the Parkers of Shelbyville IN and the Amashes of Israel duke it out for this coveted title? Nah, I doubt it. We're just happy to have Edna with us.

Brewton Bound

There's always, as Kirk say, a certain trepidation when readying to "launch" a book. I remember just weeks before the deadline of the first one, waking up in the middle of the night and getting physically ill over the prospect. (Everyone's friend Tom Franklin told me at the time, "That's great!" But we all know he's crazy.) Is it good enough? Did I make it bulletproof? Did I do justice by the story? Those are all questions, ultimately, that only a reader can answer. And that's the writer's angst. Murder Creek, of course, presents its own special anxiety. Launching it in Brewton only compounds the situation. We are already hearing from folks, professionals, anonymous citizens, that we shouldn't have pursued the story, shouldn't have opened those wounds again. I suppose I understand the intent of that attitude. The motivation troubles me. The goal of the book has always only been one thing: finding out whatever truth was still discoverable for Annie Jean's children forty years after her death. It wasn't too long into the process that the story became one that had to be told. Suzanne, who's more anxious about tonight than anyone, is fortifying herself with this belief: The only people who get to decide that this story's over are those same children. Period. No one else gets to determine that. And that's the attitude we'll take to the stage of the Brewton Civic Center tonight.

Murder Creek in the Brewton Standard

There's an article online at the Brewton Standard today about the revival of interest in the Annie Jean Barnes "mystery" since publication of Joe's book.

Brooke Walker, director of Brewton Public Library, says, “We are expecting a large crowd and moved the signing and concert from the library to the Brewton Community Center to accommodate the many people expected.”

Read it here: Book revives talk of mystery

Go Little Book (L'Envoi Redux)

So now in the warehouse there is a pallet of boxes in which lie books bearing my name. Like an anxious new parent I stare beneath the swaddling blankets of styrofoam at the wrinkled skin of a book jacket and I wonder, "What now?" ....

Not for nothing do writers speak of feeling something like post-partum depression when the final product finally arrives. Times like these I wish I were a Scientologist so I could will myself to another empowerment plane....

I've said this so many times it's my own private Idaho of a cliche, but it's true: writing a book is daunting, getting it published is more daunting, but most daunting of all is finding an audience. It'll be an interesting trip as we hit the road Ghost-hopping. I hope y'all will tag along...