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Posts Tagged ‘Southern Literary Review’

Donna Meredith Reviews Terry Lewis’s Latest Legal Thriller, Delusional

In Arts & Letters, Book Reviews, Books, Creative Writing, Fiction, Humanities, Justice, Law, Law-and-Literature, Literary Theory & Criticism, Literature, Novels, Writing on December 18, 2013 at 8:47 am
Donna Meredith

Donna Meredith

Donna Meredith is a freelance writer living in Tallahassee, Florida. She taught English, journalism, and TV production in public high schools in West Virginia and Georgia for 29 years. Donna earned a BA in Education with a double major in English and Journalism from Fairmont State College, an MS in Journalism from West Virginia University, and an EdS in English from Nova Southeastern University. She has also participated in fiction writing workshops at Florida State University and served as a newsletter editor for the Florida State Attorney General’s Office. The Glass Madonna was her first novel. It won first place for unpublished women’s fiction in the Royal Palm Literary Awards, sponsored by the Florida Writers Association, and runner up in the Gulf Coast novel writing contest. Her second novel, The Color of Lies, won the gold medal for adult fiction in 2012 from the Florida Publishers Association and also first place in unpublished women’s fiction from the Florida Writers Association. Her latest book is nonfiction, Magic in the Mountains, the amazing story of how a determined and talented woman revived the ancient art of cameo glass in the twentieth century in West Virginia.  She is currently working on a series of environmental thrillers featuring a female hydrogeologist as the lead character.

Ted Stevens, still sporting a host of flaws, returns as a criminal defense lawyer in another gripping courtroom mystery by Terry Lewis.

Delusional, the third in the Ted Stevens series, follows Conflict of Interest and Privileged Information. It is Lewis’s most compelling book yet.

In Delusional Ted is appointed by the court to defend Nathan Hart, a young man confined to the Florida State Hospital in Chattahoochee for murdering his family—a crime Ted prosecuted.

Now Nathan is accused of murdering Aaron Rosenberg, a psychologist and administrator at the mental hospital. The motive? Rosenberg denied Nathan’s latest request to be released.

Not only did Nathan threaten to kill Rosenberg, but also an eyewitness placed Nathan at the murder scene, where his clothes were later found with blood stains.

The novel alternates first person accounts between Ted and Nathan, creating strong psychological profiles of both men and powerful suspense. This technique keeps us deeply involved and probing for the truth until the last pages.

As Ted delves into hospital affairs, he begins to wonder, despite all the evidence to the contrary, if Nathan might be innocent. Ted’s doubts infect the reader, but as we learn how clever and warped Nathan is, we don’t want to be manipulated by him any more than Ted does.

Nathan Hart is a fascinating character. We never doubt that he is mentally ill. We might give him a pass on believing God talks to him, because as he puts it: “Communication with the creator of the universe is not the sign of a mind out of touch with reality but of a soul in touch with the cosmos.”

But Nathan also believes his family members were involved in a worldwide conspiracy, part of a covert agency called “The Unit.” His evidence? Dog-eared magazines left on an end table. The arrangement of food in the refrigerator. A door left slightly ajar. You get the idea—Nathan is nuts. But he is also highly intelligent and can be charming at times.

What Ted has to determine is whether Nathan’s claims of innocence are valid—or just the rants of a delusional, paranoid schizophrenic.

Several staff members, though it seems unlikely, could have murdered Rosenberg. Frank Hutchinson, legal counsel at the hospital, might have motive. His wife, a psychologist, is rumored to have had an affair with the deceased. Dr. Rebecca Whitsen, Nathan’s psychologist; and James Washington, a social worker; had access to Nathan’s clothes and his food and medications—and Nathan swears he was being poisoned. Another possibility is the hospital’s Chief of Security. He is being investigated for sexual misconduct with patients. Rosenberg pushed the investigation, in which Nathan served as a witness.

Nathan also believes his uncle, a professor of international studies, could be behind the murder because of the Hart family’s connections to “The Unit.” Ted dismisses that as nonsense, but might the uncle have other reasons to want his nephew incarcerated?

And since this is a mental hospital, other patients with criminal tendencies provide alternatives Ted can present to a jury. Donnie Mercer is an inmate capable of violence. And then there is the mysterious Cindy Sands, a former patient who once stalked Dr. Whitsen.

Like any good series, this one has personal issues that develop from book to book. The client isn’t the only one with delusions. Ted Stevens fools himself into believing he has his addictions under control, but his substance abuse jeopardizes his career and the stability of his family.

Ted drinks and uses drugs to overcome “constant melancholy, which at times became a sadness so deep and dark nothing could penetrate it.” When under the influence, he demonstrates poor judgment and loses control of his temper. He creates more problems for himself, and then has even more reason to descend into that dark hole.

Watching layer upon layer of this psychological mystery peel away to reveal the truth is pure pleasure. The final judgment is messy, like real life, where evaluating good and evil can be difficult.

If you enjoy a good legal thriller, you’ll love this one for its complex characters and riveting plot.

Terry Lewis brings a wealth of courtroom experience to bear on his novels. He has been a circuit court judge in the Second Judicial Circuit in Florida since 1998, with prior service as a county judge in that circuit from 1989-98. His most famous decision occurred during the 2000 presidential election when he determined Florida’s secretary of state had to include recounted ballots in her final state presidential tally. The decision was ultimately overturned by the Supreme Court, and George W. Bush became president.

Terry Lewis

Terry Lewis

Donna Meredith Reviews “Keep No Secrets,” by Julie Compton

In Arts & Letters, Books, Fiction, Humanities, Law, Law-and-Literature, Novels, Writing on July 17, 2013 at 8:45 am

Donna Meredith is a freelance writer living in Tallahassee, Florida. She taught English, journalism, and TV production in public high schools in West Virginia and Georgia for 29 years. Donna earned a BA in Education with a double major in English and Journalism from Fairmont State College, an MS in Journalism from West Virginia University, and an EdS in English from Nova Southeastern University. She has also participated in fiction writing workshops at Florida State University and served as a newsletter editor for the Florida State Attorney General’s Office. The Glass Madonna was her first novel. It won first place for unpublished women’s fiction in the Royal Palm Literary Awards, sponsored by the Florida Writers Association, and runner up in the Gulf Coast novel writing contest. Her second novel, The Color of Lies, won the gold medal for adult fiction in 2012 from the Florida Publishers Association and also first place in unpublished women’s fiction from the Florida Writers Association. Her latest book is nonfiction, Magic in the Mountains, the amazing story of how a determined and talented woman revived the ancient art of cameo glass in the twentieth century in West Virginia.  She is currently working on a series of environmental thrillers featuring a female hydrogeologist as the lead character.

Julie Compton

Above: Julie Compton

The following review is appearing simultaneously in Southern Literary Review.

Keep No Secrets, Julie Compton’s powerful sequel to Tell No Lies, is guaranteed to keep readers turning pages into the wee hours of the morning. Both of Compton’s courtroom thrillers are set in St. Louis, Missouri, where she grew up.

Like Jodi Picoult’s best works, Compton’s novels sizzle with all the trust, betrayal, love, and forgiveness family relationships entail—especially when you expose their private conflicts in a public courtroom. Her books seem to pose this question: how well can you know even those people closest to you?

Read Tell No Lies first. Though the sequel provides enough backstory to be a great read on its own, without understanding the first book you’d miss the riveting psychological development of the primary characters, all of whom star in the sequel as well.

In Tell No Lies, idealistic lawyer Jack Hilliard leaves behind a lucrative private practice to run for district attorney. The plot centers around a high-profile murder case. Jack is easy to like because he tries so hard to do the right thing. But there wouldn’t be a story if he were perfect. He yields to one temptation, which hurls his life on a downward spiral that nearly ends his marriage and his career.

The final plot twist leaves you wondering if Jack has been manipulated. Compton is that rare author who trusts her readers’ intelligence. She allows us to figure things out for ourselves, to experience the same doubts as Jack Hilliard. It makes the novel more like our own lives, where we can’t always tell what people’s motives are or know when they are lying.

Keep No Secrets begins four and a half years after the events of Tell No Lies. During that time, Jack Hilliard has worked arduously to repair the damage caused by his mistakes—and has largely succeeded. Until the night he finds his teenage son Michael having sex with his girlfriend. They are drunk. Being a white knight kind of guy, Jack gives the girl a ride home. In an effort to win back his son’s love and respect, Jack doesn’t tell his wife about Michael’s transgressions. That car ride sets off an unforeseeable chain of events that threaten to wreck Jack’s career and marriage once again.

Think that’s enough dirt to dump on a nice guy like Jack? Not a chance. The already untenable situation deteriorates further when Jenny Dodson, the woman involved in his earlier downfall, reappears after all these years, asking for his help. He can’t say no, but he vows to keep his wife truthfully informed of everything that happens. He does. Sort of. “The lies aren’t what he says; they’re what he doesn’t say”—this is a refrain Compton artfully employs several times.

This novel deals with social issues like the impact of adultery and sexual assault on families. Most readers are going to put themselves in the various characters’ situations and ask themselves if they would have behaved differently. Would we lie to protect a loved one? What if you knew something that would put the one you love in jail or in danger? Would you tell the truth? What if not telling keeps an innocent person imprisoned? How far should we trust the legal system? If a spouse gave us reason to doubt, could we forgive and trust again? When is it time to give a marriage another chance—and when is it time to walk away?

Compton’s novels are as fine as any courtroom thrillers out there. Though her use of present tense can be a bit distracting, the well-plotted series sparkles with psychologically complex characters.

For both undergraduate work and law school, Compton attended Washington University in Missouri. She began her legal career there, but last practiced in Wilmington, Delaware, as a trial attorney for the U.S. Department of Justice. She now lives near Orlando with her husband and two daughters and writes full-time. She is also the author of Rescuing Olivia, a novel of suspense, romance, and family drama.

Below: Donna Meredith

Donna Meredith

Allen Mendenhall Interviews Lauren Clark

In Arts & Letters, Fiction, Literature, Southern Literary Review, Writing on April 10, 2013 at 8:45 am

Lauren Clark

This interview originally appeared here at Southern Literary Review.

AM: Lauren, thank you for doing this interview. I’m glad to have the opportunity to ask you about Dancing Naked in Dixie. Before I get to the book, though, I’d like to ask you about your transition from television to writing. How did that transition take place?

LC: I loved working in TV news and it was great when my son was little. I worked for two different CBS stations — first anchoring the weekend news and then the morning news in Dothan, Alabama. The shift was 2 am to 10 am, so after three years, I needed a change and a regular schedule. I then took a job in pharmaceutical sales, but was able to transition into stay-at-home mom and full-time writer soon after. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do as a career.

AM: Okay, on to Dancing Naked in Dixie. The protagonist of the book is Julia Sullivan. Tell us about her. What was the impetus behind this character? Did you develop her in stages, or did you have some preconceived notion of her character that you wanted to realize in the text?

LC: Fortunately, Julia Sullivan came to the pages of Dixie almost fully formed. She is a well-traveled writer, perpetually busy, and married to her job — largely to avoid dealing with her mother’s death, her boyfriend, and a painful estrangement from her father. She’s talented, with personality — but definitely has an ADHD side that gets her into some trouble when she acts before she thinks.

There’s a lot of me in Julia — especially since I made the move from New York to Alabama twelve years ago. Many of her experiences (sweet tea, fire ants) are based on my experiences.

Julia was developed with change in mind. I wanted her out of her comfort zone, in a totally new environment that she’d decided to dislike. Much of Dixie involves Julia discovering secrets about her parents’ relationship and realizing that forgiveness isn’t as frightening as she believes.

AM: Within the last month, I’ve become an Alabamian, and I grew up taking family vacations to Destin, Florida, by way of Eufaula, Alabama, so I’m interested in the role that Eufaula plays in Dancing Naked in Dixie. Why Eufaula? What made you choose this city?

LC: Eufaula is my favorite Alabama city. When I was an anchor at WTVY in Dothan, I loved driving up on the weekends and having a light lunch, stopping at Shorter Mansion, and browsing in the lovely gift shops. Lake Eufaula is nearby, and on my trips to Atlanta, I would often stop at the state park to take in the beautiful, calming scenery.

I’ve attended the Pilgrimage several times, but it was during one of the candlelight tours, with everyone in antebellum costume, that I decided Eufaula provided that bit of magic that would make it the perfect setting for a story.

AM: Julia is, you could say, a cosmopolitan jetsetter who, due to events largely out of her control, finds herself living and working in Alabama. Do you think the South is indispensable to your writing? In other words, could the narrative in Dancing Naked in Dixie have transpired in some other geographical area? If not, why not?

LC: The South is indispensable to Dixie, and all of my books, to some extent, have Southern ties. Julia’s story — her cosmopolitan edge and big city sharpness — had to be balanced out with the warm and loving nature of the Deep South. It became the perfect balance to round out her empty life, the yin to her yang.

I am sure that many talented writers could place the story with a “Julia” character traveling from the majestic Pacific Northwest to the warmth of New Mexico or Arizona, but I prefer to write from experience and draw on the sights and sounds that I know and love. For me, there’s a certain charm about the Deep South that can’t be duplicated.

AM: Where would you direct our readers to learn more about you and your work?

LC: I really appreciate my readers so much and love to hear from anyone who’s read my work. I welcome emails at laurenclarkbooks@gmail.com. I’m also on Goodreads (GoodReads), Facebook (Lauren Facebook) and Twitter (LaurenClark_Bks).

You can also find more information about my latest release Stardust Summer (February 14, 2013), on my website (Lauren Clark Books) and blog (Lauren Clark Blog).

Dixie on Amazon in paperback, ebook, or audiobook: Click here.

Dixie on BN.com: Click here.

AM: Thank you for taking the time, Lauren. I wish you all the best.

LC: Thank you.

Allen Mendenhall Interviews Julia Nunnally Duncan

In Arts & Letters, Creative Writing, Humanities, Literature, Poetry on April 3, 2013 at 8:45 am

Julia Nunnally Duncan

This interview originally appeared here at Southern Literary Review.

AM: Thank you for taking the time to do this interview, and congratulations on your forthcoming book, Barefoot in the Snow. This is, I believe, your third collection of poetry. How does this one differ from your earlier books of poetry?

JND: Barefoot in the Snow reflects a more mature vision and perspective of events and people because these poems were mostly written in the past two or three years. Some poems in this collection, such as “His Hands” and “My Uncle’s Grave,” took a longer time to germinate and more courage to share. I can’t imagine having tackled these poems earlier in my life.

AM: T.S. Eliot once said that genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood. Do you try to communicate with readers, or do you write for yourself? The answer to that is probably both, so let me rephrase the question this way: do you have a particular audience in mind as you write poetry, or are you more consumed with the craft, with “getting it right,” so to speak?

JND: Unless I am writing for a specific magazine theme or contest, such as the poem “My Mother’s Elm” that I wrote to submit to the Joyce Kilmer Poetry Contest (and for which I was thankfully named a winner), I write only with the intention of composing the most honest and polished piece I can. But even with “My Mother’s Elm,” the poem took over once I started it, and I forgot the contest until I finished it. My goal was, most importantly, to capture a particular tree’s place in my childhood and to select my most poignant associations with the tree.

AM: Why do you write poetry?

JND: To capture memories, to record reflections, and to work out intellectual and psychological puzzles and give them tangible form that others might recognize and be moved by.

AM: You have written in a variety of genres. Which comes easiest for you?

JND: A poem is easiest because, in general, it takes shape and is completed more quickly than a short story, an essay, or a novel. I have also discovered that my poems tend to find a readership more quickly too. My novels might have garnered me wider recognition and usually more regional response, but poems have allowed me more comfortable expression of what’s in my heart.

AM: Do you find that poetry demands a certain economy of language that sets it apart from other forms of writing?

JND: By the nature of the poetic form—the condensation of language and attention to rhythm and line structure—I would say yes. However, my poems are narrative, often telling stories, so they’re somewhat similar to my prose. I think my prose is lyrical, too.

AM: Who are the writers that have influenced you, and to which writer would you say you owe the greatest debt?

JND: My first response to this question is always D.H. Lawrence, mostly because of his novel Sons and Lovers, which was the first work of his that I read as a young teenager. At that time, I was moved by the romance, especially between Paul and Miriam, but now when I read it as an adult, it’s obvious that the relationship between the son and his parents and the dynamics between Paul’s parents are most compelling and what have affected me.

The English midlands setting of Lawrence’s work, especially as described in Sons and Lovers, has always reminded me of my Western North Carolina landscape, particularly as it was in my childhood. Lawrence’s boyhood coal mining village of Eastwood is reminiscent of the Clinchfield Cotton Mill village where my mother grew up.

As far as poetry goes, Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s “Alas, So Long!” is a favorite, and Poe’s “Annabel Lee,” with its internal rhyme and alliteration—devices I use in my poems—has no doubt influenced me.

AM: Tell our readers where they can buy your latest book.

JND: Readers can order Barefoot in the Snow from the publisher World Audience Publishers at www.worldaudience.org. Online distributors such as amazon.com will also offer my book. If readers are interested in getting a signed copy, they can check my web page at www.thereadonwnc.ning.com/profile/JuliaNunnallyDuncan for an ongoing schedule of my appearances in WNC.

AM: Thank you, Julia, for taking the time to do this interview, and best of luck with everything.

JND: Thank you, Allen, for allowing me to share this information about Barefoot in the Snow and for giving me the opportunity to reflect upon my life as a poet.

Three Poems by Amy Susan Wilson

In Arts & Letters, Creative Writing, Humanities, Poetry, Writing on September 13, 2012 at 8:45 am

Amy Susan Wilson lives in Shawnee, Oklahoma and has recently published in Southern Women’s Review, Dead Mule, Red River Review, Cyber Soleil Journal, Red Dirt Review, Crosstimbers, Southern Literary Review,and in other similar journals. Amy is at work on a novel, The Fine Life of Mrs. Delbert L. Smith, which explores the first female attorney in Oklahoma to practice oil and gas law.  Non-fiction writing interests include Senior, over age fifty-five beauty pageants, and the pay day loan industry as it intersects with spirituality. Amy lives in Shawnee, Oklahoma with her family and three rescue dogs: Matthew, Pedro, and Snowball. She holds an MFA from Columbia University.

The following poem first appeared in Volume 11, Crosstimbers (Spring-Summer, 2011).

Doing the Hula

 

Don Ho, Hawaiian Breeze,

whisks her from this living room of green shag,

sensible sofa covers

to sandy white beaches with

girls swiveling hips, jiggling away

Just like Laki-Laki at Don Ho’s side.

 

Pall Mall clutched tight as a rosary,

sweet tea pressed into the other.

With each gulp and crank of vinyl

Eunice becomes Lead Hula Gal

her gray permed poodle hair

glossy-black; waist length.

All the men want her.

Don Ho blows a kiss

into her ear

as she hulas into the coffee table

laughs into the lamp

cry-giggles to the floor.

I will not forget the time

she brought out her ukulele

and Colt 45

held it to her left temple

then crown.

Grandma Eunice,

if you were to drive

by 3901 Windsor Way,

peek into the window at yourself

you’d see a woman

downing Diet Coke & rum

that only you call ice tea.

You’d see a woman

stumble through the fluorescent night,

your Maui Island faraway

as you dance into the dust

of volcanic ash.

 

 

The following poem first appeared in Volume 3, Red Dirt Review (Spring 2012).

Waiting in Line at the Pott. County Wal-Mart

 

 

If you live in the rural South and you are female and own a vehicle, or your cousin owns a vehicle, you can’t help but shop or just browse Wal-Mart at least once a week. In fact, Wal-Mart is not unlike attending the First Baptist Church; it is there and you must, you must participate in that weekly or more visit because it is how you were raised, and the urge to be a part of this world is coded into your Southern female DNA . If you are from the East or West coast you likely won’t understand, but anyone from here, the rural South, this South, well, ya’ll know what I mean.

                                                                        -Amy Susan Wilson

                                                                                                                                               

 

This dude runs some Morning Star corn dogs

down the conveyer,

there goes four Silk Soy Strawberry yogurts

but this guy, he’s no fruit

No Sir

tan biceps –Big–

but not too big

cute jogger’s butt

framed in Levis

he stands about 6’3–

oh, here goes some organic blueberries

wow, I am like marrying you

if you’d ever get off your phone

so I could say,

Blueberries, isn’t it nice they’re in season?

 

That’s what I’d say cuz I can’t think

of anything better;

How pathetic.

Wait, he’s going ninety an hour

on his cell:

So fight the cocks anyway

Just  fight’em ‘n place five, C.J.

 

What? He’s yacking about birds?

fighter birds?

How can you buy soy ‘n fight birds?

You know they attach razor blades to their ankles;

even Kris Steele, a Republican,

voted against cock-fighting.

 

Mmm, second thought,

Mister those Levi’s

just hang out on your bony ass

‘n your nose pug-like,

a girl nose

No a Michael Jackson nose.

Lord, now I have to get a divorce

cuz I married you

when Lynelle here rang up

teriyaki tofu, some three olive hummus–

I honeymooned with you at a green resort

in Tucson

as you sacked

with cloth reusable, recycled  bags

you brought from home.

 

Lord, I can’t help

but linger at Coin Star

as you drain the change

from your hemp wallet—

I thought you were tan from jogging

with a big black rescue dog

 

the kind no one wants to adopt

but no, I find out you’re tan from

raising rooster bulls to cock fight.

 

Gosh dang, cock fighting.

murdering the Lord’s creatures.

Are you the one

to attach the razors?

Or does your buddy C.J.

do your dirty work?

 

How do I find men like you?

 

Now you’re climbing into a hybrid Escape,

a bumper sticker:

 “Support the N.R.A.”

Oh shit!

I need an annulment

and fast.

 

You catch my eye and grin.

Listen, this three minute marriage

it’s over

I’m glad to be single again

and whew,

start my new life over

totally without you.

 

 

Slut Butt Miller: A Barber’s Daughter

Whale-O-Suds Tunnel Wash,

Jimmy Maloney unfastens

midnight-blue push-up

one hand.

White wife beater

daisy duke shorts

litter John Deere

floor mats

along with

Jack Daniels

Pall Mall pack.

That gush

of green soap,

creamy mint frosting

you’d see on top

a cupcake.

Turtle Wax

complimentary,

3:00 in the a.m.

Tonight

Blaine Sawder

football keg

Haunted Hill.

Pink thong

unwraps

Jolly Rancher easy,

watermelon kind.

After

the after party

Slut Butt

squeals donuts alone

Shawnee Bowl.

Neon pin

oil derrick tall

winks egg-white.

All the boys

gone home

texting from bed

their real

sweethearts.

 

Keystone glued

to cup holder,

Slut Butt

circles her Father’s

‘95 beige Impala

round and round

that empty lot,

swears to FM

and humidity

her Daddy visits

like in a movie

but a dream,

Recall your tire swing

            Salt Fork River?

                        I cut from old tread

            roped to oak—

                        You was my

            Little Angel,

                        Baby-Girl.

 

Her Mama

irons shirts

seventy-five cents

a pop,

Benny Lee

            Yacking to you 4:00 a.m.—

            And I won $500 million

            Oklahoma Lottery.

Asphalt and sky

pitch-black

as the inside

of a beer can,

the backseat

of some boy’s truck

waiting.

“Gone,” Edited with Photography by Nell Dickerson

In Arts & Letters, Book Reviews, History, Humanities, Nineteenth-Century America, Southern History, Southern Literary Review, The South, Writing on May 9, 2012 at 7:45 am

Allen Mendenhall

The following review originally appeared here in the Southern Literary Review.

I’ve always maintained a spectator’s curiosity in the rituals and practices of photography.  I can’t take a good picture, no matter which side of the camera I’m on, but I appreciate the idea of reducing the world to a more manageable form, something I can look at and admire without getting overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude and kinetics of it all.

I used to have a friend who was a photographer, and I would watch her take pictures.  She tried, once or twice, to teach me the nuances and particulars of photography, but I’m too proud to fail at new activities, so I strive never to undertake them.

Photographs are, folks say, moments stuck in time.  That makes them especially melancholy if their subjects, as it were, are decaying, rotting, or dying.  That’s what I realized when I leafed through the pages of Gone, a brilliant, conversation-starting, coffee-table book bearing the subtitle “A Heartbreaking Story of the Civil War,” and the sub-sub-title “A Photographic Plea for Preservation.”

Gone makes history even as it documents history.  Its images of antebellum Southern churches, plantations, and homes—some dilapidated, some just barely restored—ought to remind Southerners of the need for preserving the finest monuments of, and to, our complicated history.

That the photographer is Nell Dickerson, cousin to the late, great historian and novelist Shelby Foote, who needs no introduction to readers of this publication—although we editors have given him one—only adds a sense of authenticity to this project.  It’s as if in image and word and authorial kin, the book is tied to a past that struggles, and fails, to remain present; and it’s in that failing that the book achieves its most meaningful and poignant expression.

We Southerners place a premium on the fixed, the immutable, the known, perhaps because we understand that the things we value—family, hearth, home, community, place, religion—are bound to change.  We mourn change as we mourn loss, because all change entails loss, and it’s our tendency to mourn that gives us a unique, constructive identity.

We define ourselves as a people who have lost, or have lost something.  It’s a position that doesn’t survive interrogation, but there it is, a tragic ethos (and, for that matter, pathos) that we hope will stay the same when all else is, if not different, then almost unfamiliar.  Almost. Read the rest of this entry »

Allen Mendenhall Interviews Ace Atkins

In Artist, Arts & Letters, Book Reviews, Creative Writing, Fiction, Humanities, News and Current Events, Novels, Southern Literary Review, Writing on December 12, 2011 at 8:46 am

Ace Atkins is the author of nine novels, most recently The Ranger and Infamous.  A former journalist at The Tampa Tribune, Atkins has been nominated for a Pulitzer Prize for his investigation into a 1950s murder.  He lives on a farm outside Oxford, Mississippi.

The following interview first appeared here at Southern Literary Review.

AM: What I suspect everyone wants to know is, how do you stay so prolific?  How do you write so much, so quickly?

AA: I’m very fortunate to be a full-time novelist. I’ve been writing full time since 2001 and that gives me the freedom to concentrate completely on my stories. Many terrific writers I know have to carve out time from from their jobs to work on a book. I am able to go to my office every day and work on that new novel. I feel pretty damn lucky and that in turn means I get to work on more projects.

AM: You seem to have located The Ranger in regions of the South that you know well.  Would you call this book “Southern literature”? 

AA: Absolutely. I don’t get into working in a certain genre—that’s up to readers and critics—and can hurt the writer and reader. My new series of novels could not be set anywhere else but the South and certainly centers on many Southern themes. I gain a lot of inspiration from the gritty world of Faulkner’s crime stories and turn my attention to the descendants of those people. 

AM:    I noticed that country music and country musicians appear throughout The Ranger.  Can you tell us about the significance of this to the novel?

AA: My first four novels were stylistically and thematically about blues. I always wanted to work on a novel that felt like an old Johnny Cash ballad—a solider returning home to town, unrequited love, guns and violence. I listened to a lot of Johnny Cash and also tons of Outlaw Country—Waylon, Merle, etc.—when coming up with the background of Quinn Colson.

AM: Who is Colonel George Reynolds?  I noticed his name in the Acknowledgments. 

George is the guy who saved my ass. I had contracted to write a novel about a U.S. Army soldier without knowing enough about the modern war in Afghanistan. Colonel Reynolds contacted me from Camp Phoenix in Afghanistan about signing a copy of my novel, Devil’s Garden. He offered help if I ever needed. It turned out, I needed help immediately. He offered terrific insight direct from the battle front and introduced me to the real Ranger who provided the background for Quinn Colson. 

I could not have written the book without him and he still provides me with a ton of answers to picky questions. Read the rest of this entry »

Review of Forensic Fictions by Jay Watson

In Arts & Letters, Book Reviews, Fiction, Georgia, Humanities, Jurisprudence, Justice, Law, Law-and-Literature, Literary Theory & Criticism, Literature, Novels, Rhetoric, Rhetoric & Communication, Southern History, Southern Literary Review, The South, Writing on December 5, 2011 at 10:56 pm

Allen Mendenhall

The following review originally appeared here at the Southern Literary Review.  If you enjoy this review, please consider subscribing to the Southern Literary Review.  I became the managing editor of the Southern Literary Review in November.

 

Kudos to the University of Georgia Press for this recent reprint of Jay Watson’s Forensic Fictions, which has become something of a classic among law-and-literature scholars.  A pioneering project, Forensic Fictions stands as the first critical work to interrogate the lawyer figure in Faulkner’s oeuvre.

Watson submits that law is vast and multidimensional, “at once a deeply normative cultural system, a vehicle of ideology (in its constructive and destructive manifestations), a force of social stability and control, an entrenched and often blindly self-interested institution, and not least of all a human vocation, a form of practice that in some instances achieves the status of a calling.” 

In Faulkner’s fiction, law helps to highlight the complexity, sometimes liberating and sometimes disorienting, of the “everyday” aspects of Southern culture, institutions, and traditions.  Law is more than bills, statutes, judge-made opinions, codes, and the like.  Law isn’t a monolithic animal but a multiplicity of people and institutions; a product of self-serving performances by lawyers, judges, and politicians; and an accumulation of arguments couched in topoi of guilt and innocence, right and wrong, justice and equality.  Law is, simply put, a network of human relations and a collection of stories. 

Watson’s book examines how lawyers and laws constitute and presuppose authority in the microcosm of Yoknapatawpha.  “Lawyers of course advocate by narrating,” Watson explains, “by telling their clients’ stories in the language of the law.”  Lawyers, then, are raconteurs, and laws are products of language, even as they institute language.

Watson suggests that Faulkner internalized the “conspicuous and complicated presence” of real-life lawyers—Dean R.J. Farley, Governor Lee M. Russell, General James Stone, Ben Wasson, Jim Kyle Hudson, and Lucy Somerville Howorth, to name just a few—and then expressed mixed feelings about lawyers and the legal community in his writings.  Although not a lawyer himself, Faulkner could boast of a legal pedigree, having been born into a family and a society overflowing with attorneys.  Faulkner’s multifaceted and often contradictory ideas about law reflect these cultural associations.

Watson uses the term “forensic fictions” to refer to Faulkner’s depictions “of the legal vocation and the practice of law, a practice that extends from the official space of the courtroom and the professional space of the law office to the farthest reaches of the community.”  Thus conceived, law is not only a communicative vehicle but also a way of life, as mundane as it is exciting. 

Watson works out of the paradigms of forensic discourse.  He treats law as a theater of differences and disparate perspectives and as a vast system of interrelated parts.  An “important subtext” for Faulkner’s forensic fictions, according to Watson, “is the conviction that the values and concerns of the storyteller can and must carry over from a limited, private, aesthetic realm into a public world outside, where verbal creations can reinforce, challenge, or otherwise inform social norms.”

Three novels—Intruder in the Dust, Knight’s Gambit, and Requiem for a Nun—make up what Watson dubs Faulkner’s “forensic trilogy.”  These novels portray the lawyer as citizen-spokesperson, able to appropriate the public sphere as a space for social celebration or critique. Read the rest of this entry »

Southern Literary Review

In Arts & Letters, Creative Writing, Essays, Fiction, Humanities, Literary Theory & Criticism, Literature, News and Current Events, News Release, Novels, Poetry, Writing on November 13, 2011 at 12:01 pm

Allen Mendenhall

I have become the managing editor of the Southern Literary Review.  Writer and editor Phil Jason will serve as editor and publisher of the journal.  Former editors Julie Cantrell and Adele Annesi  have stepped down after a successful tenure.  They increased readership and brought on new contributors, including Sean Ennis, Kerry Madden, Matthew Simmons, Donna Meredith, Christopher Bundrick, Peter Schmitt, Paul Yarbrough, Rhett DeVane, Danielle Sellers, Abigail Greenbaum, Patricia O’Sullivan, Peggy Kassees, Heather Cousins, Niles Reddick, and Andrew McFadyen-Ketchum.

Founded in 2009, the Southern Literary Review celebrates southern authors and their contributions to American literature in general and Southern literature in particular. We feature the classic writers who have defined Southern literature, and we highlight emerging authors through interviews, profiles, and book reviews.  Please check out the journal by clicking here.  The journal will undergo updates and upgrades in the coming weeks.