Tag: Clarion-Ledger (Page 18 of 25)

Story of Cat Island resonates in prose, photographs

By Don Jackson. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (May 20)

Southern storytelling is a beautiful art form. Through the ages it has been the glue that has bound us across generations. Although facts are always subject to questioning, the truth is always there. It becomes a shared truth that gives us strength and meaning within a framework of profound identity, and as a people with a common heritage.

discovering cat islandSuch is the wonder and the power of Discovering Cat Island by John Cuevas. It gives us the story of a unique and fascinating place on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, and of the people who have been part of its history. It brings us light and shadows, and allows the reader to fill in the colors, both in prose and in photography.

This is not a scholarly work created for academics, although it is rich in information and required extensive research. Rather, it is a story that will hold the reader transfixed, with wonderfully-written, almost poetic, prose. A word of warning here… Do not sit down with this book unless you are prepared to sit where you are for at least a couple of hours. You will not be able to put it down. You very likely will read the entire text in one sitting. I certainly did.

Typically I consider books like Discovering Cat Island as coffee-table books that allow one to leisurely pick up the volume and thumb through the photographs… easy to pick up… easy to put down. They provide opportunity for light, transient entertainment. They’re on the table as fillers, just there as something to do, while other things are going on. Interruptions don’t matter. Accordingly, I’m more inclined to spend time with the photographs in such books than I am with their text. Rarely will I even bother with the text.

But with Discovering Cat Island, it was just the opposite. The photography was excellent. But it was the text that kept me spellbound. I’m not sure why, but I broke my rule and started reading the text when I first got a copy of this book.

Once I did that I could not take time to look at the photographs as I desperately turned the pages to get beyond the photographs and to where the story continued.

Only afterward did I go back to look at the gorgeous black and white photography of Jason Taylor. And when I did this, those photographs provided rich seasoning for the story I’d just read. The echoes of the story reverberated deeply within me as I went page by page, slowly catching the spirit of each one of Taylor’s masterpieces.

I strongly suggest that this be the sequence for future readers of this book. Start with the story. But, don’t just read the story. Listen to it! After you’ve heard the story then, as it resonates within you, go back through the book and let the photographs etch this powerful story deeply into your heart.

It is, after all, your story too. Soon thereafter you will realize that this story must be shared with those near and dear to you… with a daughter, son, grandchild, or good friend… together in a porch swing, or out under a live oak, or in front of a fireplace, or wherever your special place may be.

Cat Island is and has for been for generations such a special place for so many people. So, why not just go there with that special someone and share the story there, together. Become part of that story, right there where it all happened and is happening. Pass it along through the tumbling generations for whom, in their hearts, the Deep South and its Gulf Coast is home. It really doesn’t matter whether or not you live here. Cat Island is part of your story. Come discover it.

Donald C. Jackson is the Sharp Distinguished Professor, Emeritus at Mississippi State University. He is Past President of the American Fisheries Society, Past President of the Mississippi Wildlife Federation, and has worked extensively with fisheries resources along the Mississippi Gulf Coast. He is the author of three collections of outdoor essays: Tracks, Wilder Ways and Deeper Currents.

Signed copies of Discovering Cat Island are available at Lemuria’s online store.

Prominent Enneagram teacher forges understanding in ‘The Path Between Us’

By George Patton Jr. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (May 13)

We all see the same things in life, but what we do with what we see can be very different for each of us.

For over twenty-five years, Suzanne Stabile, one of the foremost teachers of the Enneagram, has taught multitudes of individuals throughout the United States and around the world.

The Enneagram describes nine unique personality types, or, as they are also known, essence types. Our behavior, interactions, and how we relate to others are determined by the characteristics unique to each number. This wisdom has been accumulated over many years from the great philosophers and the teaching of all the world’s great religions.

path between usIn The Path Between Us, Mrs. Stabile gives us priceless information and advice to govern our interactions with others, many of whom will approach life from a much different perspective than you or me. Christian, Jew, Muslim, man, woman, gay, or straight. If this country and the world are to survive, then we must be able to communicate, not by social media, but by verbal and physical interaction. If we have no concept of who we are and much less who others are we will never have truly meaningful relationships. If we are ever to have crucial conversations with each other and if we are ever to truly love and have compassion for our neighbor then The Path Between Us is a must read.

In her introduction, Mrs. Stabile describes each Enneagram number. She follows with ten chapters that lead to a better understanding of our Enneagram number and the Enneagram number of those around us. We are not, she adds, simply a number, but a complex personality who must interact with other complex personalities.

Mrs. Stabile is a master of storytelling, and each chapter contains entertaining and important stories. Mrs. Stabile highlights ways that your Enneagram number may interact with all of the other Enneagram numbers. Each chapter ends with suggestions on how to better interact with other specific Enneagram numbers.
The Path Between Us certainly can stand alone but is best read after reading her original collaboration with Ian Cron, The Road Back to You which describes in depth each Enneagram number.

Mrs. Stabile shows us how to avoid diverging paths and instead leads us toward converging paths. These will ultimately become the paths to love, compassion, and understanding. I believe it was said best in her own words, “when we are able to see ourselves as we are, and as we can be, it’s a beautiful thing.”

George Patton Jr. has practiced internal medicine in Jackson for 35 years and annually judges scholastic writing awards.

Author Q & A with Kevin Powers

Interview by Jana Hoops. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (May 20)

In his newest work, A Shout in the Ruins, award-winning writer Kevin Powers presents a powerful story of the brutal realities of violence and oppression in the American South during and long after the Civil War period.

shout in the ruinsSet in Powers’ hometown of Richmond, Virginia, the stories that make up A Shout in the Ruins stretch across nearly a century, from antebellum years to the 1980s. The plot during Civil War times unfolds for the partners of an ill-fated marriage between a plantation owner and the young daughter of a wounded veteran; as well as two young lovers enslaved on the plantation.

In a separate theme that runs alongside these characters is the story of George Seldom, a man in his 90s who was left orphaned by the war, and, in the 1950s, is looking back on his childhood. The strain of the destruction of his neighborhood brought on by the building of an interstate highway through Richmond prompts him to travel south in hopes of capturing glimpses of his origins.

In his search he meets Lottie, who helps him locate the house in which he grew up. The journey ultimately brings him to consider both the changes and the constancies of his long lifetime; and Lottie later reflects on her own middle age during the 1980s.

Powers’ first novel, The Yellow Birds (2012), was a National Book Award Finalist that captured both the PEN/Highway Award and the Guardian First Book Award. His first collection of poetry, Letter Composed During a Lull in the Fighting, was published in 2014.

Kevin Powers

Kevin Powers

With a bachelor’s degree from the Virginia Commonwealth University and an MFA from the University of Texas at Austin, Powers is a U.S. Army veteran who served in Iraq in 2004 and 2005.

Today, Powers lives in Austin, and admits that, on the home front, he is “an avid but mostly unsuccessful gardener. There is a pathetic-looking, but still living, gardenia in a pot on my front porch that is a testament to this fact,” he said. “I also try to spend as much time outdoors as I can. Las tyear, I bought a little 250cc Honda dirt-bike that I take up to the mountains in Colorado whenever I’m able.”

You obviously did a lot of research for A Shout in the Ruins about life in and around Richmond after the Civil War. Some of the scenes are gut-wrenching. Was there any one thing that you learned in  your research that surprised you? And was anything about this book that was (as in your former book) that was inspired by your own experience of war?

Growing up in Richmond, one learns a lot about all the history that has happened in and around the city, but it was different returning to that history as an adult, having the experiences I’ve had in life, and now with children of my own that I’ll someday need to explain that difficult history to.

I suppose I knew this intellectually, but in researching the period it was shocking to recognize how the institution of slavery permeated every aspect of life, and moreover, that it could be treated so casually by those who perpetrated and depended on its existence. And so, you come to see how strategic the thinking was that allowed the standing order to remain unchanged after the war, even though it temporarily no longer had the force of law behind it.

An example of a particularly shocking moment was reading the obituary of Robert Lumpkin, whose slave jail is featured in the novel and who died in 1866. It read, “He was born and raised in this city, was 61 years of age, and was an honest man.” It’s hard to imagine a more fitting representation of the banality of evil.

I assume the title of A Shout in the Ruins comes from chapter 10, when George and Lottie visit the cabin he was born in. Explain how the title of the book fits with that scene.

Yes, and it’s a reference to all the ruins in the book. Certainly, the cabin George and Lottie visit, but also the ruined plantation house at Beauvais, and specifically that shout when Emily is discovered hiding nearby. But in a larger sense, I hoped the title would be evocative of the urgency with which I feel it is necessary to truly and honestly reckon with our shared past. The title is also a reference to a poem I love by Louis Aragon, called “Poem to Shout in the Ruins,” which while not related to the book thematically, embodies just that kind of urgency.

I loved how you wove time and place around the character of George, who came off as the light in the story’s darkness. Who or what was your inspiration for the idea of this character?

Thank you. I must admit I didn’t begin with him in mind. He emerged through the telling of the story, and the more it developed, it became clear to me that part of the process was looking for a character who could embody Virginia in all its true complexities. In my mind, George is the quintessential Virginian, to the point where I almost titled the book “The Virginian” after him. But then I realized there were already a dozen or more books, films, and TV shows bearing that title, so I went with the one it has now.

Lottie was a very pivotal character in regard to George’s attempt at making sense of his life. After George’s death, you continued to develop her character well into the 1980s. Tell me about that.

I felt it was essential to connect this history to the present, or at the very least to a world that was recognizable to me. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t treating the past as something quarantined, something disconnected from life in contemporary America.

Lottie allowed me to do that, but also having attempted to face and address the past as honestly as I could, I wanted to see what remained. What hope could there be for us, what love, what compassion? Would it be naive to think that these aspects of life were truly possible given the burdens of history that we carry into the present moment? I could see how a reader might conclude her story is tangential, but for me she is thematically fundamental to the book.

Her brief time with Billy allowed me to ask all those questions with a new perspective. I don’t presume to have the answers to our country’s awful legacy of suffering and violence, but it does seem to me that a new level of honesty will be a prerequisite to finding them. that level of honesty is present in the relationship between Lottie and Billy, and aspirational for me as an ordinary man in the world. I genuinely feel like an optimist at heart and telling Lottie’s story allowed me to put that optimism to the test.

The book ends in 1906 with George and Emily meeting by happenstance on a park bench, but not knowing one another. Emily was talking to herself out loud about love being “the only miracle.” Explain why you chose to end the book this way.

I wanted to leave the reader with a question. So, having read everything that comes before that encounter, I hope readers will ask themselves if she’s telling the truth.

I noticed a lot of references to the color yellow in this book. Does it have anything to do with your first novel The Yellow Birds?

It may just be a tic! I’m not sure. In The Yellow Birds, I wanted that connotation of cowardice to be present, but I didn’t realize it had bled into the new book. I’ll have to think more about that.

According to some reviews of your work that I’ve read, your writing compares to that of Faulkner. What do you say?

It’s certainly not a claim I would be prepared to make about my own work, but I am flattered that others have made it. For many writers from the South, his books are touchstones, and that is definitely true for me.

Can you share any ideas you may be exploring for an upcoming work?

Nothing has cohered yet, but my recent reading has tended toward the spiritual: Merton’s The Seven Storey Mountain, C.S. Lewis, and others.

My own spiritual life is characterized primarily by doubt and confusion, but whenever I’ve had those feelings about a subject in the past, I’ve tended to write about it, to see if there’s a way that I can crack the code or at the very least throw words at the mystery in a way that might be interesting to myself and others. So, I’ll either do that or write a love story. I can’t say for sure at the moment.

Kevin Powers will be at Lemuria tomorrow, May 22, at 5:00 to sign and read from A Shout in the Ruins A Shout in the Ruins has been selected our May 2018 selection for Lemuria’s First Editions Club for Fiction.

Anne Tyler and Eudora Welty

By Lisa Newman. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (May 6)

Anne Tyler discovered the writing of Eudora Welty when she was 14-years-old in her school library in 1955. The book was Welty’s collection of stories, The Wide Net. Tyler reflects:

I can even name the line. It’s the one where she says Edna Earle is so dim she could spend all day pondering on how the little tail on the ‘C’ got through the ‘L’ in a Coca-Cola sign. I knew many Edna Earles. I didn’t know you could write about them.


dinner at the homesick restaurant
Anne Tyler is now 76-years-old and her twenty-second novel, Clock Dance, will publish in July. Over the years, Tyler has endeared millions of readers with her characters living the very ordinary lives most of us lead. We, readers, feel our heart swell with the recognition that we are not alone in our triumphs and disappointments with family and friends. In the Pulitzer Prize-winning Breathing Lessons (1988), a couple turns an unremarkable day-long drive into a revealing journey that strengthens their bond. In Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant (1982), three grown-up siblings express their longing for the “perfect” family and the heartache of loss; Eudora Welty talked about Anne Tyler’s last sentence in Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant:

“If I had written that sentence, I’d be happy all my life!”
(Yale Review 1984, “A Visit with Eudora Welty” by Barbara Lazear Ascher)

All of Anne Tyler’s novels demonstrate what she learned at a young age: “Reading Eudora Welty when I was growing up showed me that very small things are often really larger than the large things . . . I’m very interested in day-to-day endurance. And I’m very interested in space around people. The real heroes to me in my books are the first ones who manage to endure and second the ones who somehow are able to grant other people the privacy of the space around them and yet still produce warmth.”

Anne Tyler has never been a touring author, and she gives very few interviews. Understandably, she finds the spotlight distracting and incongruous with writing. Although she has roots in North Carolina, her space has been a modest house in the city of Baltimore, Maryland.

Anne Tyler wrote about her 1980 visit with Eudora Welty at her home in Jackson in preparation for the essay that would appear in the New York Times:

She lives in one of those towns that seems to have outgrown themselves overnight, sprouting—on reclaimed swamp—a profusion of modern hospitals and real estate offices, travel agencies and a Drive-Thru-Beer Barn. (She can remember, she says, when Jackson, Miss., was so small that you could go on foot anywhere you wanted: On summer evenings you’d pass the neighbors’ lawn scented with petunias, hear their pianos through the open windows. Everybody’s life was more accessible.)

On a recent cool April evening, Charles Frazier, author of Cold Mountain, sat on Miss Welty’s porch with conversation partner, Holly Lange. The audience was attentive in chairs on the lawn, the walk to the front porch winding in between listeners, and Sal, the Welty House cat, arranged comfortably, as one of us, on a listener’s bag in the grass.

dinner at the homesick restaurant

Once we got settled in with sounds of the Belhaven neighborhood around us, we listened to Charles Frazier talk about the subject of his latest novel, Varina, the wife of Jefferson Davis. I think Anne Tyler and Eudora Welty would have been pleased with our gathering and the space around us.

This year Anne Tyler’s long-time publisher, Knopf, is releasing new Vintage paperback editions of all of her novels, giving her fans a great excuse to remember why they fell in love with her stories in the first place or a way for new readers to discover why Anne Tyler is one of America’s most enduring writers.

Author Q & A with George Malvaney

Interview by Jana Hoops. Special to the ClarionLedger Sunday print edition (May 13) and digital web edition

George Malvaney was a high-spirited child whose teenage years (like so many) often found him engaging in reckless behavior—fighting, drinking, and once even taking a snake to school.

While he always knew his greatest love was for the outdoors—hunting, fishing, exploring and adventure-seeking—he was certain of one thing in his life: he hated school. He dropped out during his junior year at Murrah High School and predicted he was on a “a wild and reckless stretch that would end badly.” He was right—except that it wasn’t the end.

cups upThe unlikely story of this Jackson native lives up to the title of his debut book, Cups Up: How I Organized a Klavern, Plotted a Coup, Survived Prison, Graduated College, Fought Polluters and Started a Business.

For a man who literally wrote the book on what not to do—and ended up not only surviving, but succeeding—he pulls off a truly hopeful tale of what it took to come out on the other side. He wrote the book, he says, to encourage and inspire others who may need a spark of hope to overcome their own challenges.

After you dropped out of Murrah High School your junior year, you joined the Navy and wound up being honorably discharged for organizing and leading a Ku Klux Klan unit on your ship. How and why were you drawn to the Klan?

That’s a good question. I get asked that a lot. I was 19 years old. At this point, 40 years later, it just doesn’t make sense to me. What would have made me do that? I don’t see why I did it. Apparently, it must have been an emotional decision. It certainly couldn’t have been logic. It was a bizarre, crazy thing. It was probably the influence of (Klan leader) Bill Wilkinson, (a friend of a friend). I did it, I own it, and I’m not proud of it.

In 1980, after your Navy experience, you fell in with Dannie Hawkins, a man you described as your “new friend and mentor,” who convinced you to join his group plotting to invade the Caribbean island of Dominica and replace the government with a right-wing, anti-Soviet regime. What was this group’s ultimate goal, and why did you decide to join their cause?

George Malvaney

George Malvaney

There was a lot of debate as to the real reasons behind it that I was not aware of at the time. One was that they wanted to use it as a point for a cocaine smuggling ring. I never heard any of that. There must have been some ulterior motive. I was just out of the military, very patriotic, and naïve. To me it was more of an anti-Communist move to replace a government with Castro leanings to one that was more in line with American values. In hindsight, adventure and an emotional influence definitely played into it.

When the Dominican invasion plan was averted by the FBI before it ever started, you were arrested and sentenced to four years in prison, which was reduced to 18 months. Tell me about how your time in prison changed your beliefs about racial differences.

It didn’t actually change my beliefs at the time—that took years, but it started me thinking about it. When a prisoner named Leon asked me to write letters for him at the Atlanta Penitentiary, it kind of intrigued me. He was in for murder. He wanted me to write to his mother, but he didn’t want anyone to know, so he would whisper to me. He would tell me what he wanted to say, and I could feel the emotion in his voice. I couldn’t write it down the way he was saying it because he had a very limited vocabulary, but I knew what he was trying to say, so I put it in my own words.

I realized that, here’s this black guy—in for murder—and what he wanted to say was the same thing as my letters to my own family. I could see that there was good in this guy, too—lots of bad things, but, good things, too.

There were two fellow prisoners I wrote several letters for, and another I think I only wrote one letter for. The letters were very similar. Leon got a letter back from his mother and asked me to read it to him. It was clear that she was functionally illiterate herself, but I paraphrased it for him because what I knew she was trying to say.

I was in a unique situation. Here I was with black convicts opening up to me with their personal feelings. These were hard case convicts, trying to get their feelings out. It gave me a different perspective.

Tell me about how the decisions you made while in prison would change the path of your future forever.

I tell people that my time in prison was a wonderfully terrible experience that I would not ever want to repeat under any circumstances but would not trade for anything. It was one of the most valuable experiences of my life.

I was in prison because I made irrational and reckless decisions that were going to end badly. It wasn’t until my first day in federal prison in Tallahassee, Florida, that it struck me. I had a four-year sentence. I asked myself a lot of questions. How was I going to spend the next four years? Do you want to spend the rest of your life in prison? How are you going to improve? I made a very concerted decision my first day in prison: I was going to keep my head held high and get through this.

I had been making bad decisions to get to the point I was in. I didn’t how and where this would lead, but I decided my life as a convict would be done when I got out. I did not want to be involved with criminal activity, ever, when I was released.

I was in prison with murderers, bank robbers, drug dealers, kidnappers. They would become my friends, the people I was hanging out with, my peers, but I did not want to be influenced by them. It was a mental challenge. I really focused on keeping a positive mental attitude that I was going to be a better person.

When I was in the penitentiary in Atlanta, I spent months in my cell all day with almost nothing to read. I was self-examining myself. I had literally hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of hours to think about it. I looked at where I had gone wrong. I knew the Klan had been a bad decision. I knew I had to get away from those people. I decided I was going to go to college and get an education because I really wanted to become something—I didn’t know what, but it would be anything but a criminal.

After your release from prison, you went on to graduate from college and build a career based on your degree in environmental studies. Why did you choose this field?

I had thought about law school. I had seen what I thought were real injustices in prison. I wanted to try and address that, to seek some prison reform. But I came to the realization that even if I got accepted to law school, the fact that I was a convicted felon meant that I may not be able to practice law.

I had another passion, and that was the outdoors. I remembered one time, as a boy, standing on the banks of the Pearl River that went through my grandfather’s land in Hopewell, south of Jackson. An industrial plant had discharged large amounts of sulfuric acid and killed thousands of fish. I recall standing there with my father and watching dead fish float down the river for hours. It made me very sympathetic to environmental causes.

Briefly explain your role in the cleanup efforts of the BP oil spill along the Gulf coast in 2010.

I was the chief operating officer for a company that was BP’s prime contractor in Mississippi. Early on in the response effort (April 2010), I was called into some meetings with Gov. (Haley) Barbour to examine initial information pertaining to the oil spill. Mississippi didn’t have a lot of expertise in large oil spills, and I kind of became the go-to guy for Gov. Barbour and his staff. There was a big push politically to use Mississippi companies and Mississippi laborers, and I was managing 4,000 people from all over, and a $400 million budget.

The well was plugged on July 15. We saw very little oil on the mainland after that, but the barrier islands had really taken the brunt of the oil, so there was a long-term cleanup. I was able to help local mayors, supervisors and local officials, and I know I made a positive difference for Mississippi.

Tell me about your support of Big House Books, and how you found out about it.

I was at the 2016 Mississippi Book Festival and was coming out of the Authors’ Alley tent and noticed a booth that had a logo with a prisoner behind bars looking out. I saw the sign that said, “Big House Books.” They wanted to show me a loose-leaf binder filled with letters from convicts asking for book donations, but I told her I already knew what they said. I had once been locked in a hole starving for something to read. It really brought me back in time—it was an odd feeling. I dropped a $100 bill in their jar that day, and I’ve continued to support them ever since.

Please explain the title of your book.

That phrase, “cups up,” made a huge impact on me. I remember my first day in the Federal Correctional Institute in Tallahassee in July 1981. It was stifling hot. I could hear voices. They kept getting closer and closer. There was a rattling noise. I was thinking, “Why in the hell am I here? How did I get here?” They were getting closer and I was asking myself “What have I done? How am I gonna get out of here?” Then all of a sudden, a prison orderly was in front of me with a cart, and I realized I was supposed to hold my cup up for coffee. I remember having this dialogue with myself. It was a really powerful, life-changing moment.

Why did you decide to write this book, and what do you hope it will accomplish?

The Sun-Herald newspaper (in Biloxi) called me during the BP crisis. They had heard about my story and wanted to write an article about me. I did not want to do that article. I didn’t have anything to hide, but it was terrible timing. I was afraid it would all blow up in my face and distract from the BP effort.

It came out on the front page and I was just waiting for the worst—but I heard nothing but positive comments. What I heard over and over and over was “How did you go from that to leading and coordinating this massive response and dealing with the highest officials in the state?” I also heard “You need to write a book,” and I would just say that it would take a long time. But it got me thinking about it.

Part of what I wanted to do was recognize that a lot of people are having a difficult time in life, and it’s good to hear about others who have had tough times and pulled through it. I wanted to say, “Be positive, keep focused, learn what you can from it.” I wanted to give them inspiration and hope.

George Malvaney will be at Lemuria on Tuesday, May 15, at 5:00 p.m. to sign and read from Cups Up. Malvaney will also speak at the History is Lunch at the Craig H. Neilsen Auditorium at the Two Mississippi Museums on Wednesday, May 16, at 1:00 p.m.

‘Southern Splendor’ explores the restoration of pre-Civil War homes

By Jordan Nettles. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (May 6)

In Southern Splendor: Saving Architectural Treasures of the Old South (University Press of Mississippi), historians Marc R. Matrana, Robin S. Lattimore, and Michael W. Kitchens celebrate pre-Civil War homes across the American South.southern splendor The authors document stories of these homes, with chapters devoted to Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Kentucky, and Tennessee. The book includes 391 pages and over 275 photographs that showcase the beauty of the historic houses. Selected because of their architectural styles and restoration stories, the nearly fifty homes in Southern Splendor have overcome all types of hardships, from natural disasters and vandalism to abandonment.

The walls of every pre-Civil war home have witnessed a myriad of stories, and Southern Splendor captures many fascinating ones. There are accounts of the slave labor that allowed the houses to be built, the lives of the wealthy owners and their families, the tragedies that pressed the homes toward destruction, the restorations that saved them, and the cultural and economic roles the homes now play. These narratives make the homes feel like dynamic characters of history rather than static pieces of the background.

The detailed descriptions of the exterior and interior features are interesting and establish the book as a must-own for any fan of Southern architecture. Accompanying these descriptions are breathtaking photographs of the grand homes. Flip to almost any page, and you’ll find the image of an imposing portico and columns or of an interior room, complete with a striking chandelier and ornate furniture.

As the book notes, the homes of Southern Splendor are “survivors.” Countless other colonial and antebellum homes have not been as fortunate. The authors insist that by letting historic homes deteriorate, we lose vital pieces of the past and irreplaceable resources for understanding our nation’s history. The intersections between these homes and history are extensive.

The book features several homes whose former occupants, such as Thomas Jefferson and Jefferson Davis, are tightly woven into the fabric of American history. Then, there is the strikingly significant Whitney Plantation, a monument and museum of slavery that deals unflinchingly with the South’s difficult history and ensures that the horrors of slavery are never forgotten.

Most of the homes in Southern Splendor are well cared for and open to the public, so it’s hard to believe that many of them were nearly lost forever. Words like “disrepair,” and “dilapidated” are associated with even the most magnificent houses. Without the work of concerned individuals, communities, and organizations, the homes in this book may not exist today.

There’s something exciting about seeing a familiar location celebrated in a book. I have visited the House on Ellicott’s Hill in Natchez and Arlington House in Virginia and enjoyed reading about their histories and architecture. Residents across the South will likely find familiar homes in Southern Splendor. Equally enjoyable is discovering new gems. My personal favorite discovery was Laura House, a unique creole plantation in Louisiana that was run mostly by women.

Southern Splendor brings the included homes to life and makes a solid case for the importance of preservation and restoration. While admiring the beautiful houses, readers will likely find several new destinations to add to their bucket lists.

Jordan Nettles is a graduate of The University of Southern Mississippi and the Columbia Publishing Course in New York.

Author Q & A with Suzanne Stabile

Interview by Jana Hoops. Special to the Clarion-Ledger Sunday print edition (May 6)

Most of us, Suzanne Stabile says, “have no idea” that other people don’t see things the way we do.

Not only that, but they don’t process their experiences in the same way, either. And to make things even more interesting, it turns out that some of us rely mostly on our feelings, while others are thinkers; and still others are definitely “doers.”

The implications of these truths for relationships can be devastating or magnificent–or a lot of points in between.

Fortunately, Stabile can help us figure it all out. As a highly sought-after Enneagram master teacher, she knows how to help the rest of us bridge the gaps and come together.

path between usIn fact, when it comes to coming together, she wrote the book. The Path Between Us: An Enneagram Journey to Healthy Relationships not only describes the nine personality types of this ancient approach to behavior evaluation, but reveals how each relates to the others, fostering more mature and compassionate relationships at every level.

Stabile is also the co-author of the bestseller The Road Back to You and, as an internationally recognized Enneagram master, she has spoken at more the 500 workshops at churches, colleges, and conferences around the nation.

She  and her husband, the Rev. Joseph Stabile, are the founders of the Life in the Trinity Ministry in Dallas, Texas, a nonprofit, nondenominational ministry focusing on spiritual growth for adults.

What is the Enneagram, and how did you become interested in it?

The Enneagram is essentially nine ways of seeing. It is an ancient spiritual wisdom that teaches us that there are nine different ways of seeing and nine ways of experiencing the world. Additionally, there are nine ways of answering some of life’s basic questions like: “Who am I?” and “Why do I do the things I do?”

The Enneagram has an unknown origin, but has been used in all faith beliefs in one way or another for at least several hundred years and at most several thousand. The Enneagram is unique in what it offers us as we make our way from who we are to who we hope to be.

I read a book by Richard Rohr and my husband, a former Roman Catholic priest, and I started seeing Father Rohr on a regular basis and learning from his wisdom. Father Rohr was very encouraging about my interest in the Enneagram and he suggested I study without talking about the Enneagram for four or five years. I don’t think he would suggest that to everyone. That was specific to me because he knew I wanted to teach it.

Suzanne Stabile

Suzanne Stabile

I spent the time observing others, taking notes about how people were different from me, how they were different from each other, and only listening when others talked about the Enneagram. Without explaining it to me, Father Richard’s advice paved the way for me to gain a deeper understanding of the many facets of Enneagram wisdom.

As a result of my willingness to follow his instruction, when I began teaching, I had more than a passing knowledge of the numbers. I had embraced the depth and seemingly unending possibilities of how this ancient understanding could enhance our ability to be more compassionate with others and with ourselves. The practice of acceptance and the kindness that followed has served me well in every aspect of my life both personally and professionally.

Explain the spiritual component of the Enneagram.

My husband, Joe, and I led an institute for spiritual formation for a long time. It was a two-year program and one of the things we learned early on was that most people share in common the firs two stumbling blocks in a serious spiritual journey towards transformation. The first thing they run into is all the things they don’t like about themselves. That’s followed by the concerns and wounding they bring from family of origin. The wisdom of the Enneagram addresses both effectively.

We are each, by Enneagram number, well suited for some spiritual practices, but not for others. There is great frustration in trying to engage in a spiritual practice that isn’t suited to your number. It seems essential for those who want to know God, that they know themselves.

In your book, you explain the nine personality types: perfectionist, helper, performer, individualist, investigator, loyalist, enthusiast, challenger, and peacemaker. Why is it so important that we understand not only our own Enneagram type, but those with whom we have the closest relationships?

We all live with the idea that we are seeing the same thing and having the same experiences as those around us. We are not. Perhaps, that assumption is the greatest stumbling block for relationships. Learning how others see and process information is a game changer.

I’ve earned in recovery group settings that every expectation is resentment waiting to happen. Without an understanding of our differences, expectations are very likely. Resentment follows, and both discontentment and fragmentation are unavoidable.

The reason I teach the Enneagram is to increase compassion and civility in the world. If your only understanding is about your own number, then it limits rather than adds to our need for a more forgiving  and compassionate world view. My teaching is taking a direction toward asking the question “what would be best for the common good?” We have individuated ourselves to such a degree that we’ve lost sight of the necessity for belonging to a great community, and for finding meaning in our lives by contributing to the larger community.

How is the Enneagram different from other personality tests?

In terms of other personality-typing systems, I think they’re all good and each has its place. As a spiritual wisdom tool, the Enneagram names us (according to our strengths, and at the same time provides us with information and opportunity to do something about what we’ve learned.

I have not found the online Enneagram tests to be accurate because they lack the ability to measure motive, the key factor in discerning one’s Enneagram number. That is one of the reasons I wrote the book. The Enneagram has been an oral tradition for centuries. Anyone who has the opportunity to hear the Enneagram taught orally by a qualified Enneagram master teacher will greatly benefit from that experience. The narrative approach has a lot of value because the Enneagram is deceptively simple, and nuance is very important. That nuance is best represented in stories.

What do you say to people who see Enneagram principles or conclusions in a skeptical light, or who may even have a fear that it could be dangerous in some way?

The world needs more acceptance and open-mindedness, and less suspicion and intolerance. Imagine the wars, fights, and pain that can be avoided by asking questions from a place of love and tolerance, rather than casting predetermined judgments from a place of fear and suspicion.

I am often asked, “what’s dangerous about the Enneagram?” I’ve given the question a lot of thought. As I know and understand this ancient wisdom, the only dangerous thing about the Enneagram is if it taken to be more than it is. It is literally just one spiritual wisdom tool. There are many others and they all have their own value. The Enneagram is just one, but it’s pretty great!

What if you read the book and feel like you cannot figure out where you fit among the Enneagram “numbers”?

The Path Between Us is not designed to introduce readers to the nine Enneagram types, instead it is based on the idea that the reader is already aware of his or her own Enneagram type. We can’t recommend highly enough the value of starting with my Enneagram primer, The Road Back to You that I co-authored with Ian Morgan Cron.

Another possibility would be to listen to my “Know Your Number” recordings, or even better, attending a Know Your Number workshop in person. There will be a Know Your Number workshop in Jackson in January 2019, taught by my daughter Joey. I will be there later in the month for an advanced Enneagram workshop.

Why do you believe that more and more people are becoming interested  in studying the Enneagram today?

The generations that have followed the baby boomers seem to be more interested in understanding themselves individually rather than collectively. It seems that they have more space for difference and more tolerance for “the other.” The Enneagram, by its very nature, fits within that context as a way of thinking.

At this time in our culture, people don’t seem to be turning only to the church to try to understand life. It doesn’t take long on a journey towards self-knowledge to develop an interest in tools like the Enneagram that have a way of explaining how we’re like other people and how we are different.

From my perspective as a Christian, I would add that the Enneagram helps us in knowing ourselves, so that we might know God and then better understand ourselves in relation to God.

What is your hope for people who read your new book?

I actually believe  we are in a relationship crisis. We are becoming more polarized as we try to navigate the episodic meaning that defines our lives both individually and collectively. And, we seem to know ourselves by what we are against instead of by what we are for. We’re more tribal than at any other time in my lifetime and as a 67-year-old that is astonishing to me.

When people are taught the Enneagram by someone who knows it well, it can change how they see the world and how they interact with those who see it differently. Once people are exposed to this ancient wisdom, they begin to respond to difference with curiosity instead of judgment. They respond to misunderstanding with compassion instead of rejection, and diversity becomes a gift instead of a stumbling block.

Suzanne Stabile will be at Lemuria on Tuesday, May 8, at 5:00 to sign and read from The Path Between Us: An Enneagram Journey to Healthy Relationships.

Author Q & A with Rick Bragg

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

With equal parts love and humor—not to mention brutal honesty—Southern storyteller extraordinaire Rick Bragg tackles a topic he admits he never thought he’d have the courage to swallow: food. And good Southern cooking.

Fortunately for his readers, the release of his latest volume, The Best Cook in the World: Tales from My Momma’s Table, (Knopf) has proven that old-fashioned Southern fare is indeed in good hands.

“I’m not a cook,” the Possum Trot, Alabama, native is quick to say, but in this 490-page “food memoir,” he lets the stories of “his people” and their hilarious and sometimes heart-wrenching circumstances do the stewing and stirring.

best cook in the worldBut mostly, it’s a tribute to his mother, 81-year-old Margaret Bragg, whose skills in the kitchen, he says, are still unmatched. This is a woman who never—not once—used a cookbook, a written recipe, a measuring cup or even a set of measuring spoons to put a meal on the table. Her skills came from oral recipes and techniques that go back generations—some even to pre-Civil War days.

Included are recipes for 74 Southern “soul food” dishes he says it took all of a year to convert into written form under his mother’s guidance.

A Pulitzer Prize-winning writer and a journalism professor at the University of Alabama, Bragg is a former New York Times reporter and the recipient of a Nieman Fellowship from Harvard University. A regular contributor to Garden and Gun, his previous books include All Over But the Shoutin, Ava’s Man, Jerry Lee Lewis: His Own Story, and My Southern Journey: True Stories from the Heart of the South, among others.

Your new book is a “food memoir” and tribute to your mother, Margaret Bragg, who never used a recipe or owned a cookbook. Since you admit you are not a cook yourself, how did you get the idea to write this book, and why was it so important to you?

One of the reasons I did the book was because my mom had a heart attack, then developed cancer and had two years of chemo. When she first got sick about five years ago, her kitchen was just different when she was gone. When she’s home, the kitchen usually smells like bacon grease and that wonderful Red Diamond coffee. When she was gone it smelled more like lemon dishwashing detergent. Even the cold cast-iron skillets had a different smell.

I had tried before to cook her pinto beans and ham bone, and her beef short ribs, but it didn’t taste like hers. She never, never let us boys (Rick and his two brothers) in her kitchen when we were growing up. We’d have coal dust on us, or a live frog in a front pocket of our overalls. None of us learned any cooking from her.

I asked her where the recipe was written down for beef short ribs and she said, “I’ve never written down any recipe,” and I knew that. I’ve never seen her standing over a written recipe.

I love writing about food, something I do quite a bit, and every part of this book was always about the stories of people with my blood.

All of the recipes in this book come from stories—stories about fist fights or leaving a landlord in the middle of the night—because that’s how we live around here. And you would just remember the food that was there when it happened. The story about the time Sis, my mother’s father’s cousin, shot her husband in the teeth, and what that had to do with her chicken and dressing, is pure “writer’s platinum.”

I just thought I’d like to write these things down. I thought, “Why not? Do a book about food, and set recipes in it.”

Because your mom never uses measuring cups or spoons, you literally had to convince her to come up with the recipes included in the book. Was that a hard sell, since she says in the book, “A person can’t cook from a book”? And it must have been time-consuming creating recipes for so many dishes she knew by heart. How did you go about it?

There are two leather chairs in my momma’s living room. She sat in the one on the left and I sat in the one on the right. I leaned close to her to talk about how much of what would go into the recipes, and it took For. Ever.

To her, there is no “half cup of flour.” She would say “just get a good handful” or “a real good handful.” A tablespoon to her means the big spoon in the kitchen drawer. Or she would say use a “smidgeon” or—my favorite—“some.” It really didn’t matter the quantity of ingredients in the recipes. It’s the process. You have to leave a lot of it to common sense.

It took, probably, a solid year.

I’ve been asked if we tested the recipes in the book. My ambition was to share some of the stories of the food, and some recipes, as best I can. That, and not poison anybody.

This book is not about your typical “cookbook” type of food—there are no restraints on the use of fat (often in the form of lard), or sugar, eggs, meats or other rich ingredients that have lost some favor over the past few decades. What kind of readers and cooks do you hope will be drawn to this book?

First of all, it’s not a cookbook. If people are buying it just as a cookbook, that’s not the point. What I hope happens is that people will enjoy the true narrative, the history.

I’m not a cook and I’m not a cookbook writer. This was a chance to write about where the food came from. I hope that what people in the Upper East Side (of Manhattan), London, Connecticut and everywhere else will enjoy is the narratives, and see the value of the food.

Your mom insists she is a “cook”—not a chef. Please explain what that boils down to.

A chef expects to be called “chef,” and his underlings have to refer to him as such. A cook doesn’t care what you call him or her. It’s not about pride, but pretentiousness.

There is a great deal of family history in The Best Cook in the World—not only unique, but humorous! Tell me about the process of putting these stories together.

We didn’t have to cobble the stories together. A lot of times the food would spark the story, like the chicken and dressing story. There were recipes I wanted to put in there, but I just didn’t have a good story—like peanut butter pie, fresh garden vegetables and Aunt Juanita’s peanut butter cookies. Now, commodity cheese, I have a great story. Or Ava’s tornado story—I’ve wanted to include that story somewhere for 15 years, and this was my chance.

Among the recipes that are included, what are some of your favorites—and have you, or will you—cook them yourself?

Rick Bragg

Rick Bragg

I can cook a mean biscuit, but I usually won’t if I can get some good store-bought ones. I make red eye gravy with ham and grits—the good kind. A chocolate pie sounds like something I could do.

I don’t have the patience my momma has, and I can’t make any of it taste like she does.

One of my favorite things she made us was fried pies—but she recently told my brother Sam and me that she never made that. She had forgotten. That was the reason to do this book.

Rick Bragg will beat Lemuria on Friday, May 4, at 5:00 to sign and read from The Best Cook in the World: Tales from My Momma’s TableThe Best Cook in the World is a 2018 selection for Lemuria’s First Edition Club for Nonfiction.

Southern writers share secrets, stories in new anthology

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

What makes a writer a writer? Or a Southern writer, especially?
Is it that one writes and, hence, is a writer? Or lives in the South or writes about the South?

southern writers on writingIn Southern Writers on Writing, edited by Susan Cushman, the answers to these questions might not be as easy as they seem.

Fourteen women and 13 men struggle to answer the question of their calling and their responses show a nuanced look at why, and how, these authors came to be called Southern writers.

They include such well-known authors as Michael Farris Smith, Jim Dees, W. Ralph Eubanks, Harrison Scott Key, Cassandra King, and Julie Cantrell. They quote as mentors such luminaries as Rick Bragg, Willie Morris, Barry Hannah, Shelby Foote, Ellen Douglas, and Walker Percy.

But, still, the answers prove elusive. Dees says it requires “insane courage” to “take the plunge” and commit one’s innermost thoughts to an uncaring, or uncertain, universe.

Joe Formichella says: “The truth is that you write because you can’t not write.”

Patti Callahan Henry, among other reasons, says: “I write because the stories inside have to go somewhere, so why not on paper?”

Some of these writers are from the South, others just came to be here. Like Sonja Livingstone, who found Southern writers “crept up” on her, seeming familiar, drawing her to the region and lifestyle. Most of all, the way Southern writers write is alluring, unleashing inner secrets, she explains, “set out like colorful laundry flapping on a line, (that) I’d learned to keep folded and tucked away.”

Cantrell, who hails from Louisiana, confides that Southern writing taps all the senses. “When we set a story here, we not only deliver a cast of colorful characters, we share their sinful secrets while serving a mouth-watering meal…. The South offers a fantasy, a place where time slows and anxieties melt away like the ice in a glass of sugar cane rum.”

“The South is nothing less than a sanctuary for a story,” she adds. “It is the porch swing, the rocking chair, the barstool, the back pew.”

Being a Southern writer, writes Katherine Clark, is an opportunity and a burden, especially when you consider that you’re entering literary territory with nationally and internationally known explorers, such as William Faulkner, Flannery O’Conner, Eudora Welty, Tennessee Williams, James Agee, Harper Lee, and so many others.

But, as John M. Floyd points out, “Within several miles of my hometown lived men and women who were known only as Jabbo, Biddie, Pep, WeeWee, Buster, Puddin’, Doo-spat, Ham, Big ’un, Nannie, Bobo, Snooky, and Button. How could folks with those kind of names be anything but interesting?”

“Writing” is fascinating reading, and, of course, enthrallingly written, as can be expected by writers writing about writing. But it’s also an encouragement for those who have thought about writing, but haven’t done it, thinking there’s some kind of secret to it.

If there is an “inside secret” to Southerners wanting to write, maybe that’s plain, as well.

The South, writes Jennifer Horne, writes itself every day, offering up “a hunter’s stew of history and hope and horror.”

It’s all around us.

As Floyd points out: “In my travels I’ve been inside bookstores all across the nation, and I have yet to see a section labeled ‘Northern Fiction.’ Maybe that, in itself, is revealing.”

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.

Susan Cushman, John Floyd, and Jim Dees will be at Lemuria on Wednesday, May 2, at 5:00 to sign and read from Southern Writers on Writing.

‘Delta Epiphany,’ on RFK’s Mississippi visit, raises questions anew

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

Ellen B. Meacham’s book, Delta Epiphany: Robert F. Kennedy in Mississippi, lives up to its title as a detailed recounting of the former U.S. senator and presidential candidate’s visit to the Magnolia State in April, 1967.

delta epiphanyBut it goes far beyond a simple retracing of his steps here and his return to Washington that resulted in massive changes in federal food programs for the poor.

For starters, Meacham recounts the context of the times that saw riots in the nation’s largest cities as racial segregation and economic inequality ran rampant in the land, as the civil rights movement was moving turbulently forward, buffeted by murders and assassinations.

She sketches the major players in the national debate, not only Robert Kennedy, but the legacy of his slain brother, John F. Kennedy, and Lyndon Johnson, who was trying to implement a War on Poverty, even as a shooting war in Southeastern Asia itself was taking a bloody toll and spurring protest.

She offers a Mississippi-centric view, naming the local players, including such well-known personas (considered moderates) as Congressman Frank Smith, journalist Bill Minor, political stalwarts William Winter and J. P. Coleman, and their complicated relationships with their sometimes foes, Wirt Yerger, Ross Barnett and Sen. James O. Eastland, among others.

On a lighter note, she even details the seating arrangements of the dinners, the hostesses, and guests of the entourage as Kennedy visited, making Epiphany a holistic, personal, textured, vivid, almost surreal memory of the time.

Kennedy’s trip was spurred by a confluence of factors, including the complexities of concern over the North’s urban ghettoes and the South’s Great Migration of blacks fleeing Jim Crow and dwindling jobs in the South.

Not the least of those influences, she reveals, was the young Marian Wright (who later married one of his aides, Peter Edelman, and founded the Children’s Defense Fund). Wright operated out of a cramped office above a pool hall on Jackson’s Farish Street. It was her assertion to Kennedy that people were literally starving in Mississippi. She implored him to see for himself.

He did.

In Cleveland, as shown by graphic, heart-rending photos, Kennedy found a family of 15 living in a shack. He asked a nine-year-old boy what he had eaten that day and he replied, simply, “molasses.”

Though it was afternoon, and he had only eaten that morning, his grandmother said, “I can’t hardly feed ’em but twice a day.” And then, the evening meal would only be more syrup, and bread.

It got worse. He saw people living in a shack with only a hole in the floor for a toilet. Their street was mud. For heat was a woodstove burning whatever they could find. With no furniture, their bed was a mattress on bricks. A child lying on it had open sores.

“Children, even babies, were near starvation in the heart of the richest country in the world.”

Meacham chronicles the visit by an American political icon only one year before his assassination, but she goes beyond that, revisiting the region and finding poverty still more than twice that of the rest of the nation; high school dropout rate 43 percent; 70 percent of births to single mothers; infant deaths among the highest.

Even food insecurity remains the second highest nationally. Some 208,530 people “have to choose between paying bills or buying food.”

Epiphany is a moving portrait of a wrenching time in the history of America, the South, Mississippi. It captures an enduring moment of national shame but still begs the question: Has society progressed so much since then?

Or, have we lost our way.

Jim Ewing, a former writer and editor at The Clarion Ledger, serves on the governing board of the USDA’s Southern Sustainable Agriculture Research and Education (SSARE) program. He is the author of seven books, including Conscious Food: Sustainable Growing, Spiritual Eating.

Ellen Meacham will be at Lemuria on Tuesday, May 1, at 5:00 p.m. to sign and read from Delta Epiphany: Robert F. Kennedy in Mississippi.

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