Faith, Fiction, Friends

Reading the poems of   John Martin Finlay   is like meeting someone you should have known, figuratively and literally.   Finlay (1941-1991) ...

I found this book because I was interested in an ancestor. It’s not about my ancestor and contains no reference to him, but it gave me ...

Frank Stanford was born in Mississippi in 1948, and adopted the day he was born. Four years later, his mother married A.F. Stanford, a...

It was in the 1980s that a colleague at work who loved Southern writing introduced me to writer and poet Fred Chappell (born in 1936). Sh...

I grew up in the South at a time when change had arrived, and was overtaking nearly a century of a particular way of life, a particular ki...

On rainy days the classroom smells like mud from the swamp the school is built upon. We stand in an alphabetical line for lunch, ...

A small line of sweat washing his upper lip, he lay on a single bed in a room with pale green walls, searching through the cat...

At the YMCA, grunting in between exercises called forties and cat-and-camel, after left bridge – right bridge and ball toss and s...