Author: Guest Author (Page 15 of 28)

Author Q & A with James McLaughlin

Interview by Jana Hoops. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (August 12)

James McLaughlin admits he’s been surprised with the reception his debut novel Bearskin has received, but the topic of the book–which he said his publishers told him was difficult to categorize–is a very familiar to the Utah outdoorsman.

Growing up in rural Virginia as both an avid reader and a lover of the outdoors, McLaughlin had already decided, as a high school student, that he “was going to be an ‘outdoor writer,’ whatever that meant.” As a child, he spent much of his time hunting, fishing, and exploring the woods around his family’s farm. Reading material naturally ran to Tarzan, Jack London, James Oliver Curwood, and Hemingway’s “hook and bullet stuff”–not to mention books on backpacking, camping, and how to survive in the woods–along with a subscription to Gray’s Sporting Journal.

His circuitous educational route set him on the path to the notable success of Bearskin, a rough and tumble thriller that contrasts the brutality of human capability with the primitive beauty of nature’s untouched wilds. Set in a remote private nature reserve in the heart of Appalachia, the story plays out with a precarious mix that includes a hostile drug ring, a love interest, a regretful past, hallucinatory episodes–and mutilated bears whose body parts have been stolen for drug-dealing profiteers. In brief, it runs the gamut from wild action to deep contemplation and plenty of raw secrets.

It was after McLaughlin earned a law degree from the University of Virginia that he would soon realize he “was not built for the office,” and returned to UV to get his MFA–and then it was back to reality.

“Pretty quickly, I figured out that in order to eat while writing I would have to practice law part-time,” he said.

He said he “eventually specialized in land conservation law, and after my wife and I moved to Utah in the early aughts, I partnered up with a close friend when he started a conservation consulting business back in Virginia. I still work with the business several days a week–telecommuting, traveling east three or four times a year–and my partner has been generous in allowing me time to write.”

That “time” has also resulted in fiction and essays that have appeared in the Missouri Review, the Portland ReviewRiver Teeth, and elsewhere. Today, he lives in a the Wasatch Range east of Salt Lake City, Utah.

McLaughlin will appear at the Mississippi Book Festival August 18 as a participant in the “The Rough South” Southern fiction panel panel at 12:00 p.m. at the Galloway Foundery. He will be at the book signing tent at 1:45 p.m.

Bearskin is your debut novel, and press attention has been substantial, including coverage in the Washington PostUSA TodayEntertainment Weekly, Goodreads, and the New York Times, who named you one of the “Summer’s Four Writers to Watch”–quite a feat for a first novel! Have you been surprised by the media and fan attention for this book?

Completely surprised. I’ve been fortunate, and I know the Ecco and HarperCollins folks have done a lot of work putting the book in the right hands. From the beginning, they’ve said while Bearskin was a hard book to categorize–it doesn’t fit perfectly into any particular pigeonhole–they only needed to get people to read it, and it would do OK.

The novel tracks the story of main character Rice Moore, whose past is filled with enough problems of its own (he’s fleeing ties with a Mexican drug cartel) before he moves to a secluded forest reserve in Virginia hoping to escape terrible secrets–only to find that he feels compelled to go after game poachers killing native bears for drug dealers who want to profit from the sale of their parts. what influenced the idea for this book, including its setting deep in the Appalachian wilderness?

The story idea and the setting are tied up together: they first came to me back in the ’90s when I heard about people finding mutilated bear carcasses in the mountains near where I grew up in western Virginia. I found out the bears were being poached to supply a global black market, and organized crime was reportedly involved. It seemed a natural backdrop for a story. I knew the setting well because I’d grown up wandering around in those mountains.

And Rice Moore’s background…he was brand new to me when I decided to rewrite the book after setting it aside for 10 years. My first image of Rice was as a tough, capable person who is unaccountably spooked by the shadow of a vulture. Why is he so jumpy? His history of smuggling for a cartel grew out of my efforts to answer that question.

From the first scene of the story on page 1, the plot takes on a violent tone, and remains edgy throughout. Were there other thriller authors whose writing inspired you to pursue this genre?

James McLaughlin

I always preferred books with a lot of action, and I didn’t mind violent action, and I have to admit I never outgrew that preference. For years, I mostly read writers like Jim Harrison, Tom McGuane, Rick Bass, Peter Matthiessen, Ed Abbey, James Dickey, and Cormac McCarthy, who came out with No Country for Old Men a couple of years before I decided to reimagine Bearskin. You find violence in some of those guys’ work, but they’re not genre.

Then in the early-mid-aughts I started reading and enjoying and admiring more crime, mystery, and thriller authors like John Lawton, Lee Child, Tana French, Don Winslow. I’m sure all of those influences affected how I approached the myriad decisions made during the rewriting process. Rice Moore kept insisting on violent thriller elements, and I kept writing them in.

What are we to make of Rice’s hallucinations and frequent feelings of dislocation, often mentioned along with his severe sleep deprivation?

That stuff is important to Rice’s psychology, and yes, one aspect is the “fugues” he suffers from time to time–his first occurs in the violent prologue scene–where he temporarily loses his sense of self and becomes disoriented.

The fugues are a manifestation of trauma, I think. He’s traumatized by what happened to him, what he has done to others, and by what he fears is coming for him. He’s repressing his memories, his past, his violent nature, but at the same time he’s wide open, unguarded against his current circumstances.

When the main narrative begins, for months he has been living alone and in an emotionally vulnerable state in a remote and ancient forest. The place has a serious mojo, whether it’s purely biological or possibly supernatural–a local tells him the mountain is haunted. Rice has come to feel relatively safe there, and without quite realizing it, he has entered into an intense relationship with the forest, the mountain, the rich ecosystem he has been immersed in.

After he starts finding bear carcasses, for various reasons he becomes obsessed with catching poachers and pushes himself way past his own limits–he always has had a tendency to over-do things. He stops sleeping, he doesn’t return to the lodge, he fasts. He’s already vulnerable, so these stressors mess with his head. Gradually at first, then more insistently, his confidence in the distinction between real and imagined or dreamed experience erodes. He may be experiencing some reality that’s otherwise inaccessible, or he may just be hallucinating.

I wanted to explore what happens when a person opens up to the world in a truly extreme way and experiences a wild, ancient place without the usual filters. For some folks, it’s their favorite part of the novel. Others don’t know what to make of it.

Why did it take more than two decades to write this book, as I’ve read? (Even though the book actually reveals dual plots, the way you’ve organized it explains the whole story very clearly!)

It’s fun to say that it took 20 years, and that is the span of time from when I started to when it was published–actually it was almost 24 years–but really, I wrote it in two stages: first I spent several years writing a first novel about a guy who encounters bear poachers on his family’s property. That one, also titled Bearskin, wasn’t published.

Then, years later I started over, using the same setting and the bear poaching premise, but with new characters. I wrote the first few chapters over several months, and that part was published as a novella in the Missouri Review, but when I finally sat down to extend it into a new novel, it took four years to finish a draft and then another 18 months of revising before my agent took me on. More revision followed, of course.

Your writing style is very “efficient”–not a lot of wasted words. How would you describe it, and how did it develop?

Thank you. It’s funny because I enjoy and admire a number of writers who are known for their flamboyant writing, but it does seem I generally have a low tolerance for wordiness in my own work. I revise a lot, and it seems as I’m revising I’m usually cutting instead of adding. That might be one reason it take me so long to write anything.

I haven’t thought about how I’d describe it. Maybe I’m trying to convey what I’m after without forcing the reader to wade through too much self-indulgent prose?

I understand you are already working on a prequel AND a sequel to this book. Please tell me about that!

It may be overstating it to call it a prequel, but my next novel is one I’ve worked on intermittently for years, and right now it looks like Rice and his girlfriend Apryl will show up near the end when the setting moves to southern Arizona.

More to the point, I’m working on notes and plans for a third book that will more directly follow Bearskin. Rice Moore and the other characters in Bearskin are compelling, and I’m definitely not yet finished with them.

Bearskin is Lemuria’s August 2018 selection for our First Editions Club for Fiction.

James McLaughlin’s ‘Bearskin’ makes the Appalachian Mountains come alive

By Jim Ewing. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (July 29)

James A. McLaughlin’s Bearskin reads far better than a first novel. Its power of verse, intricately building plot, moving descriptions of land and imagination, and powerful characters destine it to be one of the summer’s best reads.

The plot centers around Rice Moore, a would-be environmental scientist who took a bad turn, becoming a drug mule for a Mexican cartel, and ending up in a prison south of the border.

After leaving prison, his life takes another bad turn when he enacts vengeance on those who killed his girlfriend. The woman had lured him into his criminal behavior and paid the ultimate price at the hands of the cartel after she became a Drug Enforcement Administration informant.

That’s a lot to pack into a novel that takes place half the continent away, a few months later, when Rice finds himself caretaker of a private preserve abutting the Shenandoah National Park in the heart of Appalachia.

But McLaughlin pulls it off, seamlessly, deftly weaving the past and the present.

Rice has taken an assumed name, Rick Morton, while laying low to avoid the drug cartel’s vengeance at the preserve, where he’s the only human in 1,000 acres or more.

Here, he finds a peace of sorts, though tormented by his brutal memories in prison, his fear of being found out, and the intrigue of meeting a woman, Sara Birkeland, an academic who was his predecessor at the preserve.

When he discovers that Birkeland left the job only after she had been raped and beaten apparently by locals who resented the land being off limits to their bear hunting, it provides more incentive for him to find and punish the perpetrators of bear poaching he had discovered on the land.

If an absorbing plot, interesting characters, and stately but alluring pacing weren’t enough, Bearskin offers immersion into a fascinating natural world where the lines between reality and myth, history and discovery, and spiritual ambiguity meet.

McLaughlin’s mastery of language brings the mountains, the hills and hollers alive. Sunshine doesn’t fall through the window of his cabin, it shouts. The trees on the hillsides don’t bend to the wind, their leaves vibrate like the land revealing itself as sentient, shaking itself from slumber.

His connection to the land and its creatures transcends all knowing, proving that the name of the mountain in Cherokee is real.

According to his website, McLaughlin, a Virginia native living in Utah, is currently working on two novels related to Bearskin and set in Virginia and the American Southwest.

If “Bearskin” is any indication, they should be eagerly awaited.

Jim Ewing, a former writer and editor at the Clarion Ledger, is the author of seven books including his latest, Redefining Manhood: A Guide for Men and Those Who Love Them.

James A. McLaughlin’s novel Bearskin is Lemuria’s August 2018 selection for our First Editions Club for Fiction.

McLaughlin will appear at the Mississippi Book Festival August 18 as a participant in the “The Rough South” Southern fiction panel panel at 12:00 p.m. at the Galloway Foundery.

Ed Scott’s story in Julian Rankin’s ‘Catfish Dream’ is essential and hopeful reading

By Ellis Purdie. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (August 5)

In our divisive times, we must recall those moments when the worst of the American experiment was overcome. Though prejudice in America remains, it has not had the final say in every situation.

Too often it takes years, but right can triumph over wrong. In Catfish Dream, Julian Rankin delivers one such story, covering the life of Ed Scott Jr. and his struggle to farm in the face of systemic racism in the Mississippi Delta.

Scott and the black community, in nearly every facet of their existence, were burdened by the obstacle of white supremacy, even into the post-civil rights era. The author focuses particularly on how blacks were held back in their attempt to create businesses in which whites held monopoly. Thus, the book is a fine source for understanding how racism endures even when laws are abolished or changed on paper.

The book begs the question of how someone manages to make a life for themselves when their context has always been against them. Scott proves inspiring for his unparalleled work ethic and refusal to quit.

For every period in Scott’s life, barriers were set up to keep him and his community from the success whites enjoyed. As a boy, Scott is thrown into an educational system bereft of adequate funding. In the military, he and his commanding officers are denied the same treatment as white soldiers. As a farmer, he is forbidden success.

However, Scott uses these opportunities to stand up to authority, finding leverage in peaceful resistance from the moral high ground. Rankin’s coverage of Scott’s life, from childhood to war and beyond, is accessible and often thrilling.

Some of the book’s most powerful moments come when Scott’s previous experiences transfer in a later fight for justice and equality. When finished fighting for both democracy and his own civil rights in Europe, Scott brings the battle back home. The dangers of World War II amply prepare Scott for situations such as the march against hate in Selma, Alabama.

In one of the most powerful sections of Catfish Dream, Scott takes his skills as a quartermaster to those putting their bodies on the line in Selma. When the marchers get hungry, Scott serves them with food by driving a truck of water and sandwiches, feeding as many as possible from his truck bed.

In such passages, food and Scott’s cause intersect beautifully, reminding us of the goodness and hope that exists even in our darkest days. They drive home the truth that food and the human spirit work together, a truth Scott embodies in every page of Rankin’s work.

Catfish Dream centers around Scott’s becoming the first nonwhite operator of a catfish plant in America. As a black man, Scott was treated differently than whites in his attempt to establish a livelihood. White fear of Scott’s success leads to a full-scale assault on his ambitions.

When whites drive Scott out of rice farming, he goes into catfish. This decision brings about its own problems, however, when white agribusiness calls in Scott’s loans, taking away his entire operation. Rankin reveals how this move is based strictly on race, as white farmers also in debt continue in their work.

Rankin keeps the narrative moving in prose that reaches the heights of excellent creative nonfiction: a must when covering the ground of history, politics, and biography all at once.

Catfish Dream leaves the reader wishing they had known Scott. Fortunately, Scott’s words and person are rendered with clarity and charm in this fine book. As Rankin proclaims, “…he didn’t live by the expectations of others. . . .He spoke truth to power.” We would do well follow him.

Ellis Purdie is a graduate of The Center for Writers at The University of Southern Mississippi. He lives with his family in Marshall, Texas.

Julian Rankin will be at Lemuria on Thursday, August 9, at 5:00 p.m. to sign and read from Catfish Dream: Ed Scott’s Fight for His Family Farm and Racial Justice in the Mississippi Delta.

Rankin will also appear at the Mississippi Book Festival Aug. 18 as a participant in the “Delta Dawn and Dusk” panel at 4:00 p.m. at State Capitol Room 113.

Author Q & A with Julia Reed

Interview by Jana Hoops. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (August 5)

Mississippi’s Julia Reed, a columnist and author of six previous books, has blessed her fans with yet another salute to the South, this time with South Toward Home: Adventures and Misadventures in My Native Land, a collection of essays culled from “The High & the Low,” her regular column in Garden & Gun magazine.

A Greenville native, Reed left her hometown at 16 to attend Madeira School in McLean, Virginia, outside of Washington, D.C., then went on to Georgetown University and American University.

Her time at Madeira became the basis for two essays in South Toward Home, subtly named “Grace Under Pressure” and “Good Country, Bad Behavior.” Those essays, she explains, are about her high school years at the school and “and about how my murderous (true story) headmistress inadvertently kick-started my journalist career.” Other essays tend more toward the familiar, and cover such Southern topics as alligator hunting, summer camp, and the Delta Hot Tamale Festival.

With a foreword by Jon Meacham, the book earns points for Reed’s role as “one of the country’s most astute and insightful chroniclers of the things that matter most.”

Julia Reed

Reed began her career in the Washington bureau of Newsweek magazine and later worked in New York as an editor and writer for Vogue. In addition to writing for Garden & Gun, she contributes to Veranda and the Wall Street Journal‘s WSJ magazine.

Do you have plans to move back Greenville from New Orleans? I’ve heard you’re building a house in Greenville.

I will still keep my treehouse of an apartment in the Garden District of New Orleans. But I am indeed building a house in Greenville that is almost finished. It’s across a country road from the pasture where I used to keep my horse. It’s a slice of Delta heaven–I’m calling it my Delta Folly–and I’ve long had the dream of building a place on that spot. I can hardly wait to be in there with my hound dog Henry. Of course, I’ve already planned a kajillion parties.

Your new book is a collection of essays you’ve written about the South, including Mississippi. What do you hope readers will take from them?

There are plenty (of essays) about Mississippi, and especially about the Delta, since that’s always been “home” to me. But as Jon Meacham says in his foreword: “Her canvas is the whole South, stretching from the dives of New Orleans up through her beloved Delta and winding up, naturally, in the northern reaches of Virginia, at the Madeira School for girls.”

What I hope people get from them is a view of the South in all its complicated, sometimes embarrassing glory. I cover everything from Scotch whiskey to the lowly possum and a lot of stuff in between: our food, our music, our fun-loving proclivities, our tendency toward committing a whole lot of mayhem in the name of the Lord. One of the things I hope people take away from the book–and one of the things we might should teach the rest of the country, especially in these increasingly fraught times–is the crucial importance of being able to laugh at oneself.

The title of your book, of course, invokes memories of Mississippi writer Willie Morris’s North Toward Home. Tell me how the title of your book fits the theme of this work.

Willie was born in Yazoo City, not far from where I grew up, so of course I knew of him, even as a kid. I was still a kid when North Toward Home came out in 1967, but not long afterward, I read my parents’ copy and I knew, even then, that it was the kind of memoir every writer should aspire to. Willie, like so many of us, went north from Mississippi to make his fame and fortune, to create a life and career.

I had a wonderful, rich life and career as a journalist in Washington and New York. But after a while, I missed my native land. When I returned home for visits, I’d rent the biggest car I could find in Memphis–even though in those days there was a plane from Memphis to Greenville–roll down the windows and blare the air, and breathe in that inimitable Delta scent of soil and pesticide. I swear it was like heaven. One of my favorite drives remains that route from Memphis, much of which is on Old Highway One, the road that hugs the river parallel to Highway 61. Eden Brent has a terrific song about that road called “Mississippi Number One.”

Anyway, I finally moved back, as did Willie before he left us, so South Toward Home seemed appropriate as a title and an homage of sorts.

The humor in your writing is unmistakable, and it gives a lighthearted nudge to encourage fellow Southerners to laugh at themselves while considering a wide and diverse range of topics in South Toward Home–including the use of grits as a weapon, the mixture of lust and politics, and the merits of taxidermy, to name a few. How did you develop your keen sense of humor, and learn to shape it into your writing in the form of personal “life lessons,” often in the face of sobering circumstances?

Well, as I said,, we’ve long had more than enough reason to laugh at ourselves, so it’s a useful skill to have. Plus, there’s just a lot of stuff down here that’s flat out funny. I mean, in one of the book’s chapters I talk about a New Orleans socialite who not only planned her own funeral, but attended it–with a glass of champagne in hand. She was seated onstage at the Saenger Theater, a cigarette in one hand and champagne in the other while people went up to pay their respects–or just plain ogle. The photo of her dead self, living it up, made the front page of the Advocate. If I wrote that as fiction everyone would say it was too over the top. You literally can’t make this stuff up.

There’s another essay about the Mississippi coroner who declared one poor man dead–except that he wasn’t. They figured out he was alive when they saw movement in his leg just as they were about to pump him with embalming fluid.

As my friend Anne McGee said at the time, “That gives some new urgency to the phrase ‘Shake a leg.'” We almost fell over we started laughing so hard. What else is there to do? Life is pretty funny, and laughter is really, really good for you. It’s an infinitely better choice than the alternative.

I also had the good fortune to be raised by very funny parents who had very funny friends. It’s like not knowing what real Chinese food tastes like until you finally go to Chinatown–or something like that. I thought everybody was funny until I left home, and then, sadly, I found out otherwise.

In what ways would you say being a Mississippian has shaped your life and career positively; and in what areas would you say we still have a way to go?

I have a baseball cap that says, “American by Birth, Southern by the Grace of God.” It was given to me as a joke, but it’s sort of on the money. I am especially grateful that I was born in the time and place that I was–the Greenville I grew up in was a cultural hotbed, full of writers and artists and lots of goings on. We had a Pulitzer Prize-winning newspaper, which is still there, thank goodness. During that heyday of journalism, talented reporters came from all over the country to work for Hodding Carter. I decided that seemed like a pretty good way to make a living.

Plus, my next-door neighbors Bern and Franke Keating wrote a took pictures for National Geographic. I loved the idea of having a magazine send me around the world to learn stuff and I got a lot that when I was at Vogue. I went everywhere from Los Angeles to London to Paris to Manila to Moscow and Kabul. And I saws many, many miles of America on various presidential campaign buses and trains. I was really lucky in my career–I had a blast.

As for how far we have to go, Mississippi has done a pretty good job lately at facing down some our more shameful and horrific ghosts. When I come to Jackson to sign at Lemuria and again for the Book Fest, I want to make a lot time to experience the Mississippi Civil Rights Museum, which I hear is amazing. But we should not allow ourselves to get complacent on that subject, ever.

And, of course, we have a whole lot more work to do on a lot of fronts. In one of the essays in the book, I make reference to our abysmal record in nutrition and education by saying that at this point we should just print up bumper stickers reading “First in Fatness, Last in Literacy.” That is actually not funny. Now that I’m going to be a homeowner in Greenville, I look forward to getting more deeply involved in the community and its many needs.

What can you share with readers about your appearance with Garden & Gun editor-in-chief David DiBenedetto at the Mississippi Book Festival this year?

Dave and I have done events like this a couple of times before. We love each other and we love to laugh and yack with each other. Our conversation onstage is not unlike the conversations we’ve had in various bars around the South.

Do you have other writing projects in mind at this time?

Next spring, my eighth book, Julia Reed’s New Orleans, a cooking and entertaining book that is a companion volume to Julia Reed’s South, will be published by Rizzoli.

Julia Reed will be at Lemuria on Wednesday, August 8, at 5:00 p.m. to sign and read from South Toward Home: Adventures and Misadventures in My Native Land.

Reed will also appear at the Mississippi Book Festival on August 18 in conversation with Garden & Gun editor David DiBenedetto at 12:00 p.m. at the Galloway Fellowship Center.

Mississippi Book Festival panel highlights Unbridled Books

By Courtney McCreary. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (July 29)

Held every August on the Capitol grounds, the Mississippi Book Festival is a beloved event. Though only three years old, thousands of book lovers flock to the state’s largest literary lawn party every year to meet their favorite authors, add a few new books to their collections, and to be among other like-minded fans. Where else can one discuss Jesmyn Ward’s new novel with a stranger in line to buy a funnel cake?

Saturday, August 18, will be full of panels, many often occurring simultaneously. Nestled between discussions that focus on authors or themes or genre books is a panel that features a book publisher. Often neglected at this sort of event, the Mississippi Book Festival has chosen each year to highlight a different press that is bringing great books to the world. Billed as,“an inside look at the ups and downs of publishing and the relationship between a national literary publisher and two of its award-winning authors,” this year’s publishers panel will host Unbridled Books.

Unbridled Books, the brain child of Greg Michalson and Fred Ramey, began in 2003, though Michalson claims it started much earlier, when the two spent three years in graduate school. “The roots for all this go back to the days when Fred and I were graduate students together. We began arguing about what made good fiction, and we like to say that we’ve continued that conversation throughout our publishing careers together.”

L-R: Ramey, Michalson

Though a smaller press, publishing only a few titles a year and staffing a few people who work on a project to project basis, Unbridled Books titles are constant contenders for top reading lists around the country. Featuring authors like Emily St. John Mandel, Steve Yarbrough, and Elise Blackwell, Unbridled Books has a knack for discovering and nurturing talent. During their long careers in the book industry, the two co-publishers released William Gay’s debut, The Long Home and The Oxygen Man, one of Steve Yarbrough’s first novels. This makes them unique in the publishing world. It’s rare to find one small press with as many heavy-hitters on their list.

Unbridled Books has always focused on quality over quantity. It makes sense after speaking to Michalson, who, without hesitation, refers to his job as “a true privilege to work with our authors on these books.”

It’s a simple formula: Unbridled Books publishes books they love. They publish primarily fiction but have been known to release the occasional nonfiction title. It doesn’t matter what type of books they’re publishing, what matters is the story. “We’re interested in a good read that’s character driven but that also has the kind of compelling, page-turning story that readers will really care about,” says Michalson.

Joining Michalson and Ramey on the Unbridled Books and The National Literary Scene panel will be three of their authors—Elise Blackwell, author of The Lower Quarter, much-loved Mississippi Delta writer Steve Yarbrough, author of The Unmade World, and moderator, Steve Yates, of Flowood, the author of The Legend of the Albino Farm.

L-R: Yates, Yarbrough, Blackwell

The Unbridled Books and the National Literary Scene panel will take place at 1:30 p.m. in State Capitol Room 201 H at the Mississippi Book Festival on Saturday, August 18.

Courtney McCreary is the Publicity and Promotions manager at the University Press of Mississippi. She lives and writes in Jackson, Mississippi.

Author Q & A with Gary Krist

Interview by Jana Hoops. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (July 29)

Gary Krist’s fascinating account of the history of Los Angeles during the first three decades of the 20th century puts a highly personal face on the mage-city’s early days through the almost unbelievable stories of three of its most interesting and important influencers in The Mirage Factory: Illusion, Imagination, and the Invention of Los Angeles (Crown Publishing).

The stories of engineer William Mulholland, filmmaker D.W. Griffith, and evangelist Aimee Semple McPherson weave a dramatic and entertaining narrative that reveals much of how the unique culture and personality of today’s Los Angeles evolved.

Krist also authored the bestselling Empire of Sin and City of Scoundrels as well as The White Cascade, along with five novels. HIs work has appeared in the New York TimesEsquire, the Wall Street JournalWashington Post Book World, and other publications.

His work has earned honors that include the Stephen Crane Award, the Sue Kaufman Prize from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, a Lowell Thomas Gold Medal for Travel Journalism, and others.

Gary Krist

Born and raised in Fort Lee, New Jersey, just across the river from Manhattan, Krist earned a degree in Comparative Literature from Princeton and later studied in Germany on a Fulbright Scholarship. He went on to live in New York City, then Bethesda, Maryland, for more than two decades before returning to his home state of New Jersey–where today, he and his wife Elizabeth Cheng now live in “an apartment in Jersey City right on the river looking out toward lower Manhattan.”

In your most recent books, you’ve written about New Orleans (Empire of Sin) and Chicago (City of Scoundrels). What led you to write about Los Angeles?

I see The Mirage Factory as the third of a trilogy of city narratives, the first two being, as you mention, the books about Chicago and New Orleans. It’s been fascinating to explore how each city grew and developed over time, each one coping with similar issues but in different ways, depending on the particular people and circumstances in each place.

What intrigued me about Los Angeles was the fact that this remarkable urban entity grew up in a place where no city should logically be. The area was too dry, too far from natural resources and potential markets; it was isolated by deserts and mountain ranges and without a good deep-water port. And yet it grew from a largely agricultural town of 100,000 in 1900 to a major metropolis of 1.2 million by 1930. That feat required imagination, not to mention some really unorthodox tactics–including plenty of deceptive advertising–and that’s the story I wanted to tell.

Please explain the title of the book.

The main point I wanted to convey in the title is that, granted, the city being promoted in the early 20th century was at first more image than reality, but eventually the hard work was done to make those mirages real. Since the site of Los Angeles lacked so many of the usual inducements to growth, city boosters trying to convince people and businesses to move to L.A. had to do a little creative salesmanship.

For instance, L.A. was advertised as a blossoming garden in the desert long before it had enough water to sustain that image; but eventually, through an enormous expenditure of creativity, effort, and money, it solved the problem by building the aqueduct. The city was also attracting too little industry; it solved this problem by more or less creating its own brand-new industry–motion pictures–a business literally based on selling images to the public.

So, while some people have interpreted the title too negatively, I see the term “mirage” as having both negative and positive connotations; a mirage, after all, stops being fraudulent when it actually takes physical form and becomes real.

The stories of the rise and fall of the figures you’ve chosen to highlight in this well-documented history of Los Angeles from 1900 to 1930 would probably be deemed almost unbelievable if they were fictional. In The Mirage Factory, you’ve chosen “three flawed visionaries,” as you called them, to tell the story of the city’s growth and cultural development during these years: engineer William Mulholland, filmmaker D.W. Griffith; and evangelist Aimee Semple McPherson. When you were conducting research for ideas, how did you settle on these three?

I always like to put a human face on the history I’m telling, so I try to focus on a few individuals whose stories allow me to discuss the important issues in a concrete way. these people are not necessarily the most influential figures in a city’s history, and they’re certainly not the individuals who “single-handedly” built the city–cities are always a group effort. But they must in some way be representative of the larger forces that DID build the city.

In the case of The Mirage Factory, I needed individuals to represent the three strands of the story I wanted to weave together–what I sometimes refer to as the water story, the celluloid story (i.e. Hollywood), and the spirituality story.

The first was a no-brainer; Mulholland was the dominant figure in L.A.’s water story for decades, and you really can’t tell the city’s history without him. For the celluloid story, I had a number of possible choices–Cecil B. DeMille, Charlie Chaplin, or on the studio heads like Adolph Zukor–but ultimately Griffith seemed to be the seminal figure, the person most responsible for taking the motion picture from a vaudeville house novelty to an industry-supporting art form. And as for McPherson, she may seem an obscure choice, since she’s not well known now; but in her day, she was at least as famous and influential as the other two, and she brought a large number of spiritually-seeking people to L.A.

Of course, the fact that all three of these people were fascinating individuals–with character flaws as big as their talents–was a definite bonus for me as a storyteller.

The city’s explosion in population from 1900 to 1930 was incredible, and you state that there were three main migrations to the city: the first being the well-off; the second primarily middle class; and third being those lower socioeconomic status who arrived hoping to become laborers. Tell me about the evolution of the city’s population as the years passed.

One thing that really surprised me when I was researching was how relatively homogeneous L.A.’s population was in the early decades of the 20th century, compared to that of other American cities. Given L.A.’ s current identity as a rich multicultural center, it was astonishing to me that the Los Angeles of the 1900s and 1910s still lacked large Latino, Asian, and African-American populations. That changed, of course, over the 1920s and 1930s, and especially during and after World War II. But until the 1920s, the city was drawing new residents largely from the well-heeled white populations of the Midwestern and Eastern states.

Taking each of the main characters individually, I’ll start with the contributions of Mulholland–an uneducated, self-taught man who would later be recognized as one of the leading engineers in the world. Why was his role so vital to the city’s existence and its future?

Mulholland was a phenomenon–a tireless autodidact with a remarkable memory and a prodigious work ethic who chose to devote his entire life to taking on the technical challenges of his adopted city. Every city should be so lucky. He was chief engineer of the Department of Water and Power, and its predecessor agencies, for decades, during which time he built the city’s water system up from essentially a small network of wooden pipes and open ditches. Really, the conception and construction of the L.A. Aqueduct was only one of his many feats.

The problem with Mulholland was that he began to believe the fastest and most efficient way to get things done was to do it all himself. As a result, he often proceeded without sufficient oversight and input from people who might have had more expertise in a specific area. In the end, that was the character flaw that led to the St. Francis Dam disaster and finished his career.

The role that D.W. Griffith played in the film industry was a major contribution to the city’s growth, providing thousands of jobs. What made his efforts to establish the industry in Los Angeles so successful?

Griffith essentially laid the groundwork for narrative motion pictures by taking many of the techniques being developed in the early years–close-ups, tracking shots, crosscutting–and combining them into a coherent and flexible grammar of visual storytelling. He didn’t invent those techniques, as he sometimes claimed, but he was uniquely successful at blending them to tell a powerful story.

As for turning movies into a major industry, though, it was the extraordinary financial success of his film The Birth of a Nation–as problematic as its racism was and is–that finally convinced Wall Street and the Eastern banks that movies were more than just a cottage industry–that they could be a big business comparable to steel, oil, and textiles.

The story of Aimee Semple McPherson is one I’ve never heard, but fascinating. Her evangelistic leadership played into and strengthened the city’s openness about spiritual matters. How is her influence still seen in the city?

McPherson’s extremely high profile in the 1920s and 30s allowed her to spread the word about Los Angeles as a center of often unconventional spirituality. Her unique combination of a positive and inclusive message with a heavy dose of arresting spectacle, including faith healing, speaking in tongues, dramatic illustrated sermons, and the like, became a powerful attraction for seekers of all kinds.

That legacy is preserved in the continuing relevance of the church she built–the Angelus Temple in the Echo Park neighborhood–and its outreach ministry, the Dream Center, which aids the city’s poor, homeless, addicted, and displaced. And the religion she founded, the Church of the Foursquare Gospel, now has over 6 million members worldwide.

During its early years, Los Angeles was in somewhat of a competition with San Francisco to become a leading and more influential American city, despite its location in the middle of a large desert. Why did L.A. win?

I wouldn’t say that San Francisco has really “lost” the competition, since it remains a hugely vital and influential city, but L.A. has outstripped it in size and, arguably, at least, in worldwide impact. It’s hard to say exactly why that happened, especially since San Francisco had such a long lead on L.A., developing as a city many decades earlier.

In a way, Los Angeles had to work harder. For instance, San Francisco had a superb natural harbor; L.A., on the other hand, had to undertake extensive improvements to make its harbor competitive. San Francisco had the enormous wealth created by the gold rush to jump-start its growth; L.A. had to figure out creative ways to bring investment and population to the city. So maybe it’s a matter of necessity being the mother of invention.

I’m a big fan of yours. do you already have a new writing project in the works?

I’m still in the early stages of research for the next project, but San Francisco attracts me as another, entirely different city whose history I’d like to explore. So maybe my trilogy of city narratives will become a quartet.

The Mirage Factory is Lemuria’s August 2018 selection for our First Editions Club for Nonfiction. Gary Krist will appear at the Mississippi Book Festival Aug. 18 as a participant in the American History panel at 10:45 a.m. at the C-SPAN room in Old Supreme Court Room at the State Capitol.

Sudden Loss Re-Mastered in Angela Ball’s ‘Talking Pillow’

By Lisa McMurtray. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (June 3)

Loss, however sudden or slow, is unimaginable. Yet in her sixth collection of poetry, Angela Ball tackles this painful subject beautifully with longing, lyricality, dark humor, and keen intelligence.

Underscored by the sudden death of Ball’s long-time partner, each poem in Talking Pillow is touched by this loss, either in the way that it reshapes the world around what is no longer in it, reimagines the past, or simply tries to find a way forward. “How is (s)he taking it,” one poem asks, and it is this question that drives the collection. How does one cope with death’s intrusion? In a way, Talking Pillow is the answer to this question, acting as a protection against forgetting, fear, and, however temporary, loneliness.

“Although / divers can learn to cope with the effects,” Ball writes in one poem, “it is not possible to / develop a tolerance.” Throughout Talking Pillow, Ball resists easy conclusions. Instead, she revisits death, folding and unfolding it into new shapes, not to tolerate it, but to better understand its effects. She does not ask why, but notes that “Cognitive dissonance / happens for a reason. Can make us // break up or down.” At turns avoiding and confronting loss, these poems capture what comes after and how, if at all, one moves on.

There are numerous ways to cope, and Ball explores many of them through richly textured, sharply funny imagined scenarios, addresses to characters like Robert Frost and Anna Akhmatova, and poems full of violence just beneath the surface and poems that are almost playful. Ball recontextualizes death not to make it more manageable, but to come at it from different angles. “If you go for a drive, know,” Ball writes, “that small roadside crosses / contain your friends, re-mastered.”

It is not until the middle of the book that the central death unfolds. “Arrived at Emergency,” Ball writes of her partner’s illness, “the first of grief’s little rooms.” There, she is warned, “’Always assume they can hear.’” Later, Ball revisits this advice, pleading, “Let me hear that Michael hears. / In his fashionable Tiny House.”

These poems embody grief’s little rooms and Michael’s Tiny House, giving voice to grief and heartache. This voice begs and worries. “Michael was scandalously / alone,” the poem continues, “then more / much more alone.” At the heart of the book, this elegy lays closest to death and the emptiness after it. After, Ball writes, “I travel, searching the perfect vacancy. / I have sent memories out ahead. They gleam.”

Perhaps, as Ball writes, “The trick…is to see others.” She suggests in another poem, “We depart and workarounds kick / in…creaky but functional, how things move / or refuse.” Grappling with sudden loss, these poems ask what to do next. “You say it’s hard to join the hours, / you’ve lost the plot,” she writes, before giving a series of instructions not on how to move on, but how to appear as if one has moved on. “Do not put baklava into a briefcase,” the poem commands, but instead, “Think how privileged you are / to seldom stand waiting / for a car to come.”

Rife with conflict between control and forgiveness, anger and acceptance, Ball notes that in the end:

We were not
pretty. Our work was close,
the day, a thread
knotted at one end.

Grief, it seems, is putting one line after another, day by day. In the last poem of the book, Ball writes of a bicycle accident: “All was dark / then I got up and started riding again.” Eventually we move forward, but before we can, we must sit with loss and try to understand it intimately. What better way than through the words of these poems and Ball’s immense talent?

Born and raised in Jackson, Lisa McMurtray holds an MFA from Florida State University and an MA in English from Mississippi State University. Her poems have appeared in The Cincinnati Review, Ninth Letter, West Branch and The Journal.

Angela Ball will appear at the Mississippi Book Festival Aug. 18 as a participant in the “Waxing Poetic with the Pros” poetry panel at 9:30 a.m. in the State Capitol Room 201 A.

Author Q & A with Stephen Mack Jones

Interview by Jana Hoops. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (July 22)

Rookie thriller/mystery writer Stephen Mack Jones saw his first novel published at age 63–but his fans would likely say it’s a “crime” he didn’t get into this business sooner.

Following the debut release of August Snow in February, readers are already awaiting Lives Laid Away, the second of what is becoming a hit series, set to be on bookshelves in early January.

Born in Lansing, Michigan, Jones now lives in Farmington Hills, outside of Detroit, and it is here that the action of August Snow–and there’s plenty of it–brews in his beloved home state.

His first book introduces readers to the tough guy persona of ex-cop August Snow, who was forced off the city’s police squad, award a $12 million settlement for his trouble, and soon found himself dragged into the biggest case of his career. The story in influenced in prat on a corruption scandal involving Detroit’s mayor a decade ago and is informed by urban standoffs around the country in recent years between protesters and heavily-armed police. In the process, Jones give the embattled city of Detroit a fair shake, as locals can appreciate his many detailed images of the city.

Jones is a published poet, an award-winning playwright, a recipient of the Kresge Arts in Detroit Literary Fellowship. He worked in advertising and marketing for several years before turning his attention to full-time fiction writing.

Please tell me about yourself.

Stephen Mack Jones

In some ways, I’m the product of a home like August was raised in. My father was a hard-working blue-collar man who’d quit school in the 10th grade so he could work and contribute to his family–his mom and dad, brothers and sister. He never graduated from high school, but he was always a reader–everything for Carl Sandburg to Langston Hughes, to Shakespeare, Isaac Bashevis Singer and Studs Turkel.

My mom had a bit of college and a love opera. She had a beautiful voice! She’d sing arias from Turandot, Carmen, or Tosca while ironing my dad’s work blues of cooking the Sunday beef roast. Both of my parents made sure my brother and I took reading and education seriously. In fact, they saw no difference between the two.

So, like August, I’ve had heroes in my life–my mom and dad–who lived everyday, quietly heroic lives in order to raise children above their own origin stories.

As to charting my so-called “career path,” let’s just say you could probably give a 2-year-old a fistful of candy, a crayon, and a blank sheet of paper, and they’d ending up charting my career path with 99 percent accuracy! Thirty years in advertising and marketing communications with stops at play-writing, poetry, selling Buicks, and making sandwiches.

Your talent for writing is quite diverse. After your success with poetry and screenplays, what caught your interest in writing crime novels?

I’ve always loved reading mysteries and science fiction. Between Dashiell Hammett, Agatha Christie, and Ray Bradbury there were the poets–Pablo Neruda, Octavio Paz, and Nikki Giovanni. Poetry is where I learned–and continue to learn–how words carry their own special weight and possess their own unique colors.

But I always come back to mysteries and thrillers. To be able to actively engage someone’s imagination, work their emotions and increase their heart rate through a puzzle constructed from words. It’s also the ideal genre to occasionally have important sociopolitical commentary fly in under the radar.

August Snow tells the story of a young man who grows up in Detroit’s Mexicantown, goes on to become a cop, and finds himself without a job after exposing the corruption of his own mayor. He sues the city and wins a $12 million wrongful termination settlement that sets him up financially for life–but distances him from many of his “friends.” He sets out to start a new life in his own neighborhood, and that’s when things get interesting! As your debut novel, how did you go about formulating the full plot of August Snow and developing its many colorful characters?

I never tell myself, “I’m going to write a book today!” That sounds scaring and daunting, doesn’t it? What I do in telling a story is what I used to do when my son was young, and, at bedtime, he’d want me to tell him a story. But not a story from a book. A story from me!

Well, my son is 21 now and me making up stories for him at bedtime would just be damned weird, right? So, I tell myself stories–1,200 to 1,400 words at a time. The length of a chapter. And it has to keep me entertained and informed.

This is why my characters have to surprise, move, and intrigue me. They have to fascinate me from the color of their eyes to the clothes they choose to wear to the cadence of their speech. A few of the characters in both August Snow and the new book Lives Laid Away I’ve known. Most others are characters I’d like to know. The others just give me the heebie-jeebies!

Snow is a man of contrasts–a smart, tough rebel with a decided attitude, a softie for kids and the elderly, a man on a mission to improve his old neighborhood–who embodies a sort of hero for his city. Even his name, August Snow, is intriguing, striking an image of opposites–very hot and very cold. Is there a hidden message in his name?

Ya know, I hate to admit it, but I’m the last guy in the room who actually go the contrast of his name! My read my fourth draft of August Snow and said, “He’s the perfect reflection of his name! Emotionally, he can run hot–like the month of August, or cold–like snow!”

Or course, having a man’s stupid pride, I said, “Yeah–just like I planned it, babe.” But the truth was, inside I was saying to myself, “Holy cow! How’d I miss that?”

Your affection for Detroit and your home state of Michigan comes through in August Snow, with vivid descriptions of and references to real places and events, all while exposing its hardships alongside its charms. Tell me about why it was important to you to show Detroit, which has endured its share of hard times over the past few decades, in a realistic balance.

For years, any time Detroit was referenced in the news media or through movies and TV shows, there was a quick, stereotype shorthand that was used: flying sparks from auto assembly lines, boarded-up buildings and burnt-out houses, decaying neighborhoods. “Ruin porn.”

And while those things still exist, you rarely see the other side of the story: New apartments and condos to accommodate young professionals in information technology or marketing. Successful start-ups from people who’d lost faith in the city five years earlier. High-end fashion boutiques. Theater and live music options. Restaurants for whatever tastes you have–Mexican, Vietnamese, Brazilian, Italian, French, Greek, Thai, Nigerian, Mediterranean, or just good old Southern home cooking.

And it’s a city that supports its artists. Just ask anybody–like me–who’s won a Kresge Arts in Detroit Fellowship. So, it’s important to me to give readers not only the varied look and feel of the city, but the aromas and textures of a city that’s forever tied to its socioeconomic and racial past while actively reinventing itself for the future.

Please tell me about Lives Laid Away, set for release in January.

A young, anonymous Hispanic woman dressed as Queen Marie Antoinette is dredged from the Detroit River. Another, dressed like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, is pulled from the nearby Rouge River. Both undocumented, both subjected to unspeakable cruelties and torture. And more young women are going missing–many from August Snow’s Mexicantown neighborhood.

The Detroit police are undermanned and overwhelmed, and August’s neighbors and local business owners are growing more fearful every day. August takes it upon himself to find out what’s going on and he gets pulled into the dangerous world of human trafficking and treacherous secrets–and potentially illegal operations among the DEA, FBI, and ICE. Getting information that will help him understand and end the kidnappings and murders will also force August to contact men he put in prison five years earlier as a Detroit cop: Legendary Detroit criminal kingpin Marcus “Duke” Ducane and his monstrously large and psychotic bodyguards, The Compton Twins.

I’ve read that the movie rights to August Snow have been negotiated. Will we be seeing it on the big screen at some point? 

I can’t really say much until it’s officially announced by the production company, but, let’s just say yes–there’s a very good chance you’ll see August Snow on the big or small screen in the near future.

Is there a new direction or genre you’d like to take your writing, and/or do you have other works in progress already? Poetry? More screenplays?

Right now, I’m just having fun telling stores about he life and times of August Snow! I’ve truly been blessed by the success of the book has enjoyed, including four award nominations: the Hammett Award, the Nero Award, Shamus Award, and the Strand Magazine Critics Award.

And to be honest, I didn’t get this far with the book on my own; my family has my back as does Stephany Evans, my literary agent, and the really fantastic people at Soho Press.

At this point, I hate to do this, but I have to excuse myself and get back to work–the third August Snow is calling!

Stephen Mack Jones will appear at the Mississippi Book Festival Aug. 18 as a participant in the “Life’s Great Mysteries” mystery panel at 12:00 p.m. in the State Capitol Room 201 H.

‘Clock Dance’ by Anne Tyler is one of her best books yet

By Valerie Walley. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (July 15)

Clock Dance is Tyler’s 21st novel, her 20th to be published by Alfred A. Knopf (Hogarth published Vinegar Girl, loosely based on The Taming of the Shrew, for their reimagined Shakespeare series). This is one of Tyler’s best books yet! If you’ve never read an Anne Tyler work, Clock Dance is a good place to begin, and, if you have read one of her many novels, you will be charmed and delighted as ever.

As the type of character only Anne Tyler can conjure and bring into being, Willa Drake, the protagonist of Clock Dance, is the source of pure reading entertainment…along with all the other characters in the novel. Willa has led a relatively sheltered life by falling into life events that have defined her course, putting up little resistance even though secretly harboring plenty of opinions.

We see her as a young girl reacting to her mother’s sudden disappearance, then flashing ahead ten years to her approaching marriage, then ten years later as a young widow, then another ten years on as a remarried woman living in a golfing community in Tucson (she couldn’t care less about golfing).

When Clock Dance gets underway, Willa is summoned to Baltimore from her home in Arizona to help take care of her son’s ex-girlfriend who’s been shot, the ex-girlfriend’s young daughter, and their dog, Airplane. The story takes off from there as we are introduced to and taken in by all the quirky neighbors in this community. You find yourself asking again and again, “Why would anyone do such a thing?” while also being absolutely riveted and entertained by what happens next. Ultimately, everyone falls in love with Willa. Not to give anything away, but Willa does more than accept this turn in her life.

I have been a fan of Anne Tyler’s since I discovered her work in 1980 when I read Morgan’s Passing. I quickly went back and read her previous novels, and then, in 1982, her breakout novel, Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant, was published. Clock Dance is reminiscent of some of my favorites – Dinner, but also Earthly Possessions, The Accidental Tourist (made into the blockbuster movie), Back When We Were Grownups, and Breathing Lessons (which won the 1989 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction).

If Morning Ever Comes, her first novel, was published in 1964, shortly after her graduation from Duke, where she was a student of Reynolds Price. Anne Tyler has said that one of her–if not her–favorite writers is Eudora Welty. She has always cited the literary influence and appreciation of Eudora Welty in her work. She paid a visit to Jackson which she published as “A Visit with Eudora Welty” in the New York Times Book Review in 1980.

Now is a great time to celebrate Anne Tyler’s work. Vintage is reissuing her paperbacks in stunning new packages, so you can find these classic novels on bookstore shelves waiting to be rediscovered.

Every time I read one of Tyler’s novels, I always think back to an essay of hers, “Still Just Writing.” When her daughters were little, various moms at the schoolyard would ask her if she’d found work yet, or was she still just writing? And Tyler’s reply was “still just writing.” And, all these many years later, her readers could not be more thankful that she is.

Valerie Walley is a bookseller and Ridgeland resident.

Anne Tyler’s novel Clock Dance is Lemuria’s July 2018 selection for our First Editions Club for Fiction.

Author Q & A with Isabelle Armand

Interview by Jana Hoops. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (July 15)

New York City photographer Isabelle Armand said she was “instantly inspired” to tell the stories of the wrongful convictions, incarcerations, and eventual exonerations of two rural Mississippi men when she first read about their cases more than five years ago.

In her new book, Levon and Kennedy: Mississippi Innocence Project (PowerHouse Books), Armand has visually documented the everyday lives of Levon Brooks and Kennedy Brewer over a five-year period after their release from the Mississippi State Penitentiary in Parchman. The black and white images of the men and their families, captured in and around their homes in the small rural Mississippi town of Brooksville, includes quotations that convey their thoughts and feelings of regret and joy about the miscarriage of justice and the eventual outcome of their cases.

The men had been charged in separate murder cases committed 18 months apart in the early 1990s. Brooks was sentenced to life and was imprisoned 18 years; Brewer received a death sentence and served 15 years.

It was through the diligent work of The Innocence Project, along with DNA testing, that Brewere and Brooks were cleared of all charges and freed in 2008.

Armand’s book includes text by Tucker Carrington, director of the George C. Cochran Innocence Project at the University of Mississippi School of Law, who, with Washington Post reporter Radley Balko, co-authored the book The Cadaver King and the Country Dentist, also related to the cases of Brewer and Brooks.

Armand acknowledges the support of artist Olivier Renaud-Clement, the Shoen Foundation, PowerHouse Books, and Meridian Printing for the production of her book.

Her distinctive photography works can be found in private and museum collections, and have been exhibited in the United States. They have also been featured in national and international publications.

Tell me about your background, and how you became interested in photography.

I was born and raised in Paris. My mother was a Vogue editor and worked with amazing photographers such as Helmut Newton and Guy Bourdin. We had many photography books of the masters. I was always around photography and got the best possible education. I was especially drawn to the works of Walker Evans, Dorthea Lange, Brassai, Cartier-Bresson, Roy DeCarava, Edward Curtis, who documented people and places. They were storytellers of life. But at first, I followed in my mother’s steps and worked as a stylist there, and here.

I left France at 20 to come to New York, which I still love some 30 years later.

Do you have family or other connections to Mississippi?

A lifelong inspiration would be my only connection to Mississippi. I grew up fascinated with the U.S.; at first, it was through cinema. The West, New York, and the South seemed mythical places.

In Paris, I was around Blues musicians, and our idols were Robert Johnson, Little Walter, Muddy Waters, and the like. Mississippi captured my imagination, a fundamental American culture was born there, and I find the place incredibly rich and deeply textured.

How did you hear about the cases of Levon Brooks and Kennedy Brewer? When and why did you decide to become involved in them?

I came across an article about the cases’ forensics in 2012. It was a troubling account of a flawed and corrupt process, when reality goes beyond fiction. It triggered many questions; how, why, and where could this happen? I was instantly inspired to tell their story in photographs. I waited for several months, but the story stayed with me. Finally, I contacted Tucker Carrington, and suggested a photographic documentary around Levon’s and Kennedy’s experiences.

When did you begin photographing the images in this book, and how long did it take?

I began to photograph Levon and Kennedy and their families in June 2013. The last images and interviews were done in July 2017. I would go each year to spend time with them, take pictures, and collect interviews. With printing, editing both the images and the interviews, it took five years.

What were your goals (artistic and otherwise) for this project, as far as what you wanted to capture, how you envisioned the large photo collection would be organized, etc.?

The goal was to create a compelling visual essay to raise awareness about wrongful conviction. It’s a reality, which mostly remains abstract until we see it with our own eyes. I felt an intimate photo essay would bring the story of Levon and Kennedy to the forefront. We’d get to know them and their families like our own, and realize that the system can crush anyone.

I envisioned this essay pretty much like it is now. I started with retracing Levon’s and Kennedy’s childhoods, and visiting places which were meaningful to them, then and now. I’d document everyday life; family members, families’ gatherings, birthdays, July 4th, as well as their rural environment. With time, the project took a life of its own.

I love black and white film. It mutes unnecessary noise, and it sets off the essence of the subjects for me. Also, light on film is magic.

I edited as I went along, for each family, until editing for the book, when I had to look at the images in a new light. I eliminated a few photographs and created a new visual narrative. Damien Saatdjian, the graphic designer, gave it great breathing space and rhythm.

Both men and their families seem to have very forgiving spirits about their ordeals. Did that surprise you?

I knew a little about them prior to meeting them, so I wasn’t surprised. They were very angry when it happened. But spending 18 years in prison, or 10 on death row, they had to deal with it in a certain way, or it would destroy them. They had to make some peace with their situation, so they could endure and still be the men they wanted to be. Levon was thrown into a dangerous general population and chose to become a good influence. He saved lives and he was respected. Kennedy, isolated in his cell 24/7 while facing death, chose to educate himself, read, wrote, and prayed. Thinking of his ordeal every day was not an option, like he says in the book, “You’d go crazy.” Yet, he thought about it because he was trying to save himself, which he did by writing to the Innocence Project.

Besides where, how, and why this happened, my question was, “How does one and one’s family cope with wrongful conviction?” Both men and their families stick to a strong philosophy of life.

Levon and Kennedy have large families who supported them during their incarcerations, and you got to know them during the course of this project. What can you tell me about them–their thoughts on their loved ones’ false imprisonment, their attitudes about living in their rural Mississippi communities, their hopes for their own futures and that of their children and grandchildren? (It’s notable that, although many of them mentioned racial prejudice as an everyday event, most prefer to stay because of close family ties and the “peace and quiet” they enjoy.)

I interviewed everyone for the quotes you see in the book, and it depends on the individual. Most feel that the criminal justice system needs major changes. They lived through the most tragic consequences of this system, and their community still does in many ways. Levon and Kennedy’s wrongful incarceration is something they all want to put behind them, even though they have strong opinions about it.

These families have been there for generations, they are attached to their land loved ones, and most don’t want to leave. Some of the younger people are torn between the desire to go places offering more opportunities and diversity, and their love for their family and area. Every parent hopes for a better future for their children, but few think things will change in Mississippi. However, they all go about living their full lives. They ignore and rise above external pressures.

Sadly, Levon passed away this past January, after 10 years of freedom. Did he get to see this book?

Levon was the first person to receive the book right from the printer. He took it all around town, and he was proud of it.

The way the book is bound is wonderful–I love the way the book itself is the book jacket! As an artist, tell me about the decision to create this book like this, in that it makes such a strong impression before it’s even opened!

I don’t like jackets on books and I wanted the cover printed with a discreet lamination. I didn’t want any typo on the cover, either. I felt Levon and Kennedy were so powerful in this photograph that they drew you in. The book wouldn’t be what it is without the work of my lab Laumont on the book files, and the amazing printing of Meridian Printing. And again, Damien Saatdjian’s input was also invaluable to achieve the results we wanted.

Isabelle Armand will appear at the Mississippi Book Festival Aug. 18 as a participant in the “Seeing the Light in Mississippi” photography panel at 4:00 p.m. at the Galloway Fellowship Center.

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