Tag Archives: north carolina

by

Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens – A Book Review

wherethecrawdadssing

Where the Crawdads Sing is a fast-paced, potent, concise book that has a little bit of everything which will likely satisfy any reader.

The story centers around Kya, a young girl growing up alone in the marshes of North Carolina’s Outer Banks. When I say alone–I mean alone. Everyone has abandoned her–her mother, father, brothers, sisters, people in the nearby town–everyone. This forces her to fend for herself in a primitive shack that has neither indoor plumbing nor electricity. Though initially a child, and despite lacking any formal education, she learns to observe nature’s lessons, and that becomes the key to her survival into adulthood. Unfortunately, though the town completely shuns her, its sins will not leave her alone and she is eventually accused of murder.

Where the Crawdads Sing accomplishes so much in such a short amount of time. It delves deeply into issues of domestic abuse, abandonment, discrimination, elitism, and hypocrisy.

However, it is also a love letter to nature as it beautifully describes the vibrant activities occurring in areas most people deem uncivilized. Owens’ writing is compressed, but extremely effective. She will make you feel like you’re living in the marsh, coexisting with nature, right by Kya’s side.

Furthermore, there is a captivating murder mystery present in this book as well. Though it may sound out of place, it’s not. Owens weaves the murder mystery into the overall plot perfectly. It never feels forced nor contrived. Between Kya’s story, the murder mystery, and the convergence of the two, I couldn’t put this book down.

No matter what your taste, I highly recommend Where the Crawdad’s Sing. I believe anyone who enjoys fiction will like this book.

by

You Must Read Marilyn Best’s Work

I know a wonderful lady in North Carolina named Marilyn Best.  I met Marilyn because she is my brother’s mother-in-law, and I instantly liked her.  Marilyn is hilarious, tough, smart, and honest.  Best of all?  She’s also a book lover.  I’ve had many interesting conversations with Marilyn about books, specifically in regards to Stephen King.

So when I heard Marilyn had a short work published in The Sun magazine, it didn’t surprise me at all.  Most voracious readers have a knack for writing as well, but that doesn’t necessarily equate great writing.  Good writing is nice, great writing is exquisite and rare.

Marilyn, being the humble person she is, never sent me the link to her work, and so even though it was published in September of 2008, I just now read it today because my parents delivered a hard copy to me.

As I read it, I seriously said out loud, “Wow!”  Marilyn created a piece of great writing.

As I’ve already told Marilyn, she immediately captured my attention and her descriptive work is outstanding.  Most importantly, she has a clear, fluid voice that is most enjoyable to read.  Though the work is short, it is impressively potent, and it’s obvious she knows exactly what she’s talking about.

I sincerely hope you’ll follow the link and read the first entry-Marilyn’s entry-of The Sun’s “Porches.”  While I won’t publish her email on the web, if you’d like to send me any kind words regarding her work, I’d be more than happy to pass them along to her.

Here’s the link:

http://www.thesunmagazine.org/issues/393/porches

by

Where We Were When The Towers Fell

Note: Originally Published 9-11-06

Five years ago on this day I was teaching at East Gaston High School in North Carolina, just outside Charlotte.  I was 24 years old at that time.

We taught on something called the block schedule, which, in our case, meant I had four 90 minute periods a day, one of which was a prep period. 

I had just finished teaching 1st period and stood in the hall keeping track of things.  A teacher came up to me and told me a plane had just hit the World Trade Center.  Of course, I said something to the effect of it must have been a prop plane that had somehow gotten off course.

I had a television in my classroom propped from the wall and so I turned it on to see the news coverage.  I was shocked when I saw the first tower that had been hit in smoke and flames.  I realized then that it had not been a mere prop plane that had struck it.

Reports soon informed me that it had been a passenger plane that had smashed into the side of it.  The cause of the impact had yet to be determined, but I know I assumed it had to be a terrible, terrible accident.

When I saw the second plane strike the second tower live on television, I knew it was no accident, and I think most people knew it as well.

I sat at a desk in my empty classroom completely shocked.  When the first tower fell, and then the second, I moved into whatever realm exists beyond shock.

When 3rd period started, I had students ushering in and I had a choice: teach my lesson planned for that day or discuss what was happening at that very moment.  Of course, the decision was an easy one and we talked at length about the terrible loss of life and the fact that people were dying even as we spoke.  We all were very emotional at that prospect and we watched the television in a respectful silence, as did all my classes for the rest of that school day.

Of course, when I got home to my empty rental house I turned on the TV and remained glued to it for the rest of the night.  I had just come off a bad breakup and wanted nothing more than to move back to Illinois, but I knew I had eight more months to go before I could do that.  As I sat there, alone in the dark, watching the events unfolding and thinking about how long it would be before I got back to what I considered my home, I really and truly couldn’t imagine what it would be like for the people in those towers and on those planes who would never get to go home again.  They would never hold their child, their husband or wife, their friends or family, ever again.  I thought of the loved ones of those victims and what a horrible, horrible reality they now faced.  I thought of the brave men and women rushing to rescue anyone they could, and I wondered if I could ever have that sort of selflessness and courage.

Over the next few days I started hearing names I’d never heard of before in my life.  Names that now are part of are national vernacular.  Names like Al-Qaida and Osama bin Laden.  I discovered that terrorists had attacked us, and I remember thinking to myself, “Why?”  At that moment, most terrorism I knew of were from names like McVeigh and Kaczynski.

I also remember the incredible amount of patriotism that flooded our great nation.  Everything took on an esteemed importance, as though we realized that every moment of life was not to be trifled away and wasted.  We were proud of our nation and we were proud of our heroes. 

Five years later things have not turned out exactly as we probably had planned.  I won’t go the route of cynicism, but I wish the patriotism that resulted from that terrible day still existed.  I have mixed feelings on virtually every aspect of our current political climate, but I don’t have any mixed feelings on the importance of patriotism.  We are a great nation.  Those willing to stand up to oppression centuries ago forged who we are today and we’ve always fought oppression throughout our history.  Granted, sometimes we took longer to fight it than we should have, and the fight continues on many fronts even to this day, both at home and abroad, but we are a great nation because the people that make our nation up have the potential to be true heroes. 

My parents’ generation always talks about how they remember where they were when President John F. Kennedy was shot.  I think my generation will always remember where we were when the towers fell.