Blue Ridge Fire Towers by Robert Sorrell

 

Reviewed by Jeanne

While the title might sound dull to some, this book is a little gem of local history.  Sorrell has done a very thorough job of telling the history of fire towers in the area, starting in 1910.  In the early years, fire towers were the only game in town for spotting wildfires.  Nowadays, fire spotters have largely been replaced or supplemented by technology, though some towers remain staffed either by employees or volunteers. Even the abandoned ones remain as points of interest for hikers and locals.

Sorrell tells the story chronologically, beginning with the first towers as it became obvious there was a need for lookouts after some damaging fires. This was a bit more controversial than one would think: according to Sorrell the prevailing attitude was that fires were “a force of nature that could not be abated or prevented.”  Some of the early towers were built either by communities or companies, while conservationist and forest enthusiast Gifford Pinchot championed the building of a network of towers to help manage the potential damage from fires.

But let me just jump ahead to “the good stuff”—the wealthy of local stories and information about the towers.  I am not a fire tower buff myself (not crazy about heights) but even I have heard of a number of these towers.  During the fall, people talk about going up to the Mendota fire tower to get the best views of the foliage. Wise County’s High Knob Tower was so iconic that it was rebuilt not once but twice after it was destroyed by fire in the 1970s and again in 2007. The newest tower, dedicated in 2014, is considered fireproof.

Long time residents will enjoy that Sorrell has several references to local journalist Jack Kestner who wrote about his love for the mountains and even did a stint as a watcher in a fire tower. (Fun fact:  Kestner wrote a novel entitled Fire Tower, set in West Virginia.) There is a good index, which helped me find the areas I was especially interested in, and I certainly enjoyed the photos but honestly I could have read the entire book.  Sorrell has an engaging manner of writing that made me want to read more even if I didn’t know the area he was writing about.  It’s a gift that not all non-fiction writers have, so I really appreciate it in those that do.

If you have any interest in local history in general, I recommend giving this book a try. 

Stories I Ain’t Told Nobody Yet by Jo Carson

 

Reviewed by Jeanne

In her preface, Carson says that this collection of poems is based on conversations; at the heart of each is something she heard. She tried to capture the tone and rhythms of the speaker, and the individual voices come through.  While she writes that these all came from East Tennessee, some of the sentiments are universal.

I’d heard a bit about Jo Carson as a local poet and author of note, and knew that she lived in Johnson City, but that was about it.  I finally decided I should make her acquaintance and I am so glad I did.  These poems are absolute gems.  The personalities of the speakers come through, and the cadences just beg to be read aloud.

Some of the poems are poignant, some profound, and some are laugh out loud funny.  And some are several of these at once.

My biggest regret is that I waited so long.  Jo Carson was also a playwright and performer, who also wrote stories along with her poetry.  She passed away in 2011 so I never had the pleasure of hearing her perform, but at least I can enjoy the work she left behind—especially the final poem in the collection, which almost speaks to this very thing.  It begins this way:

I am asking you to come back home

before you lose the chance of seeing me alive.

You already missed your daddy.

You missed your uncle Howard.

You missed Luciel.

I kept them and I buried them.

You showed up for the funerals.

Funerals are the easy part.

 

The rest you should read for yourself.

Fighting Words by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

 

 

Reviewed by Lisa

 

Ten-tear-old Della has always had her older sister, Suki: When their mom went to prison, Della had Suki. When their mom's boyfriend took them in, Della had Suki. When that same boyfriend did something so awful they had to run fast, Della had Suki. Suki is Della's own wolf--her protector. But who has been protecting Suki? Della might get told off for swearing at school, but she has always known how to keep quiet where it counts. Then Suki tries to kill herself, and Della's world turns so far upside down, it feels like it's shaking her by the ankles. Maybe she's been quiet about the wrong things. Maybe it's time to be loud.

 

This story is told from Della’s point of view, who is unaware of what had been happening to Suki while they lived with their mother’s boyfriend. When something so bad happens that they are removed from the home and put in foster care, things seem fine at first. Then Suki starts to break down. 

 

    If you have read any of Kimberly Brubaker Bradley’s other books, you know she manages to create a powerful emotional impact on the reader. This book is certainly no exception. She manages to take a painful subject (child sexual abuse) and turn it into a moving story filled with compassion and infused with humor. You will get hooked in the first few pages, and will want to know more about Della and her purple high-tops and creative cursing. You will admire Suki’s fierce determination to take care of her sister, and worry about her when she starts to withdraw.

 

This is an important story that needs to be told in order to bring some light into an area that is too often hidden in hushed whispers and shame. Kimberly Brubaker Bradley blew me away with her writing skills and her honesty. When you finish this book, I hope you exclaim like I did, “Well, snow!”

Gone Dollywood: Dolly Parton’s Mountain Dream by Graham Hoppe

Reviewed by Christy

In Gone Dollywood: Dolly Parton’s Mountain Dream, Graham Hoppe analyzes not only the East Tennessee theme park but also what it means to be Southern (more specifically Appalachian) and how that identity is commodified for mountain tourism.

I was surprised to learn that Pigeon Forge and the Gatlinburg area didn’t become a tourist hot spot with the development of Dollywood in 1986. Rather, it was a vacation destination even pre- Civil War, the cooler mountain air attracting the elite during the summer months. Often the proto-tourists would view the locals with a sort of bemused condescension which Hoppe uses as a segue into a discussion of the “hillbilly” stereotype. Hoppe argues one of the reasons Parton is so successful is that though she plays with the hillbilly trope (calling herself “white trash” and leaning into a Daisy Mae aesthetic), she doesn’t do it with a sense of superiority but one of camaraderie with her people.

Hoppe doesn’t solely focus on Parton or even Dollywood. He talks about the kitschy-ness of Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg and even gets into a little history about Cracker Barrel (a chain restaurant which started in Tennessee but tends to shy away from identifying as a “Southern” restaurant, favoring the more general “down home” or “country” brand) and more locally owned establishments like Gatlinburg’s Pancake Pantry. Hoppe tries to peel back the layers of these entities and more to see just what version of the South they’re trying to sell.

Though the focus is a little scatter shot at times, this book comes in at under 150 pages so I don’t think a deep dive was ever the point. It seems he just wanted to open up discussions on the Southern image and how it’s sold. Dollywood, for example, is a very genteel, nostalgic, and family friendly version of Appalachia. A far cry from the bootleggers and white trash that might be presented at a nearby dinner show. The South, it seems, is multi-faceted. I’m glad Hoppe didn’t limit his attention to just Dollywood. I really enjoyed this look at the regular vacation spot for so many East Tennessean families.

Haunted Yarn Shop Mysteries by Molly MacRae

Reviewed by Jeanne

Last Wool and Testament by Molly MacRae

Kath Rutledge didn’t expect to be caught speeding by an East Tennessee cop, but then she didn’t expect her beloved grandmother to die suddenly, either.  To make matters worse, the cop refers to her grandmother as “Crazy Ivy” and insinuates that she might have been in trouble with the law.  None of this fits in with the Ivy that Kath knew and loved—but then, that Ivy wouldn’t have deeded away her house without telling Kath either.  All that’s left is Ivy’s shop, The Weaver’s Cat, a host of Ivy’s fellow weavers and fabric artists, and a mystery that Kath is determined to solve to clear her grandmother’s name.

Oh, and deal with a despondent ghost who loves television.

I picked this series up because it had a local setting, and there was a cat on the cover.  I confess to being a bit disappointed in some of the local color or, rather, the lack thereof.  While I recognized some local references (the town is called Blue Plum, for example, and there's a nearby festival by that name), I just didn’t get a good sense of being in this area.   I didn’t want heavy handed dialect or ‘possum jokes or references to Jed Clampett, but on the other hand I didn’t want generic small town America either.  For a page or two I forgot if the book was set in Tennessee or Maine or Minnesota, since I’ve been reading mysteries set in all those places—and yes, all small towns with diners as the heart of town where one gets the gossip and a killer brownie/chocolate chip cookie/cupcake.  To be honest, I wondered if this was a mandate by the publisher to make the setting “relatable” or some such nonsense. A few details came in near the end but not enough for me to really feel that I was in this area.  On the up side, this meant no toothless natives or “Dueling Banjos.” That is definitely a plus for me. 

And by the way, there was a cat but it remained missing for most of the book.  This detail is for my cat mystery reading friends and should not reflect badly for anyone who does not read mysteries for the felines. I am reliably informed that not everyone is concerned about the presence or absence of felines, so those folks may just ignore this entire paragraph.

Because first novels have the burden of setting up characters, I decided to read a second book in the series. Plagued by Quilt sees Kath settled in at the Weaver’s Cat, making friends and succeeding as a shopkeeper.  She’s getting ready to put her background as a conservator to good use as she helps out at the Holston Living History Homeplace, a museum where visitors can tour an eighteenth century homestead and view re-enactors lecturing and performing tasks common to the day.  Phillip Bell, the new assistant director, is an enthusiastic interpreter and is leading an archaeological excavation on the site.  When a human elbow turns up, it seems that some secrets may not be too well buried after all.  

I found I enjoyed Plagued by Quilt much more.  Kath was more settled and comfortable, so I as a reader felt more comfortable.  The Holston museum setting gave more opportunity to build setting, as did Kath’s love for the antique tools and fabrics.  Geneva the ghost is back, dramatic as ever, but she does provide some comic relief with her TV references.  A couple of the characters were more developed than in the first book, though Kath remains someone who rushes in where angels (but not ghosts) fear to tread.  The TGIF (Thank Goodness It’s Fiber) group has some interesting possibilities but limited character development, though they are the source of a delightful stake-out scene.  I enjoy the way that MacRae incorporates bits of information about history and fiber work into her books:  the retting of flax, for example. It’s never a lecture or a chore, just interesting information.

The scraping sound you hear is the dragging of a soapbox.  I had two quibbles with the book that I put up with but found annoying—much like the flies that scoot inside in summer.  The biggest was the librarian who didn’t seem to want to do research and secondly, that when she finally did the research she failed to check online sources which should have yielded clues.  I will grant that it would have made solving the mystery take fewer pages, but I hope that librarian will either polish her skills or else find a new profession. And no, she won’t stop me from reading the next book. End of soapbox!

All in all, this is a solid little series with extra appeal for those who love fiber arts, be it knitting, sewing, quilting, or weaving.  The supernatural elements don’t overwhelm the story, nor do they spoil the detecting. I don’t think this is a series that needs to be read in order, as it’s fairly easy to catch up though Geneva might give one a moment’s pause when encountered for the first time. I have a couple of friends who are fiber artists and I will be recommending the series to them.

The author, Molly MacRae, lived in this area for a number of years and worked for a time in Jonesborough so she does know and like the area. While that didn't come through in the first book, it was much more evident in the second.

(And yes, a cat made more of an appearance in this book.  That did not influence my opinion.  At least not much.)