A Friend from Chile
Worrying for years about a question with no answer is more than a little neurotic. It can also provide fertile soil for plot development.
Essays
Biting the Rock
Solo climbing in the Rockies violates every rule of mountain safety, particularly on a route I picked myself. But that’s the way I liked to do it, and had done it all my life. What happened on Mt. Yale should have been a cautionary tale, but some things are too good to give up.
Honey and a Ham Sandwich
If I’m ever in the unfortunate position of having to choose my last meal, I will choose a ham sandwich on lightly-toasted Pepperidge Farm bread and a cup of tea with milk and sugar. This is what I ate for lunch with my grandmother most afternoons when I was in grammar school.
A Simple, Gentle Joy
Every year, I’m reminded of how refreshing it is to be among folks who love the sorcery of the written word. The Southern Festival of Books draws a diverse crowd, a vast spectrum of ages and ethnicities. Some gobble up mysteries; some nip at the syllables of poetry. Some are there to share their work, some are there to support those who share their work, and all of us are there because we have fallen under the spell of what can be done with words on a page.
The Boys of My Youth
Every Fourth of July, my buddies and I camped in the woods behind Anderson’s house. We called it Boston Hill because you could see the lights of the city thirty miles away. You could watch fireworks from all directions, all at once.
Bookends
In January of this year, The Booksellers at Laurelwood began the process of liquidating its stock and closing its doors. As a new store rises from its ashes, Chapter 16’s Kathryn Justice Leache remembers the old store and looks toward the new one. It will be called Novel.
