Clay's Quilt

( 15 )

Overview

"Clay Sizemore was just four years old when his mother died. Clay's father was long gone by then. Surrounded by aunts and uncles, loyal friends and cousins, Clay loves his town of Free Creek. But what he doesn't have - a mother, a father, sisters or brothers - is what gnaws at him year after year. And what leads him to leave Free Creek and try to make a life of his own." "This is the story of how Clay, a coal miner in love with his hometown but unsure of his place within it, finds the family he's been seeking. And it's the story of the people who ...
See more details below
Paperback (Reprint)
$12.01
BN.com price
(Save 19%)$15.00 List Price

Pick Up In Store

Reserve and pick up in 60 minutes at your local store

Other sellers (Paperback)
  • All (62) from $1.99   
  • New (9) from $8.33   
  • Used (53) from $1.99   
Clay's Quilt

Available on NOOK devices and apps  
  • NOOK Devices
  • Samsung Galaxy Tab 4 NOOK
  • NOOK HD/HD+ Tablet
  • NOOK
  • NOOK Color
  • NOOK Tablet
  • Tablet/Phone
  • NOOK for Windows 8 Tablet
  • NOOK for iOS
  • NOOK for Android
  • NOOK Kids for iPad
  • PC/Mac
  • NOOK for Windows 8
  • NOOK for PC
  • NOOK for Mac
  • NOOK for Web

Want a NOOK? Explore Now

NOOK Book (eBook)
$10.49
BN.com price
(Save 30%)$15.00 List Price

Overview

"Clay Sizemore was just four years old when his mother died. Clay's father was long gone by then. Surrounded by aunts and uncles, loyal friends and cousins, Clay loves his town of Free Creek. But what he doesn't have - a mother, a father, sisters or brothers - is what gnaws at him year after year. And what leads him to leave Free Creek and try to make a life of his own." "This is the story of how Clay, a coal miner in love with his hometown but unsure of his place within it, finds the family he's been seeking. And it's the story of the people who become part of the life he shapes: from his religious Aunt Easter to Uncle Paul, the skilled quilter who teaches Clay that you can make a beautiful thing out of bits and pieces. At the heart of it all is Alma, the fiddler whose song and quiet spirit wend their way into Clay's heart, saving him just as he approaches the brink of despair. Together, they help Clay to fashion a life from what treasured pieces are around him and to see the family that has been right beside him all along."--BOOK JACKET.
Read More Show Less

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
“Compelling . . . Despite hardships, again and again the family and the land assert their claim on these characters, and on the reader. . . . House knows what’s important and reminds us of the values of family and home, love and loyalty.”
The Philadelphia Inquirer

“Here is life in the hills as we enter the twenty-first century–the love of the land, the fierce loyalty to family, the church, substance abuse, and violence. . . . Silas House writes from deep within the culture and presents his world without apology or gloss.”
–CHRIS OFFUTT

Booklist
A lovely and accomplished literary debut.
Roanoke Times
Unpretentious and clear-eyed...Silas House has crafted a tale whose joys are as legitimate as its sorrows.
Bookpage
...a treasure to be handed down from one reader to another.
Publisher's Weekly
Deftly written, replete with wisdom and remarkably light on sentimentality, this lovely novel makes plain the value of family...
Kirkus
An appealing and promising debut.
Southern Living
...the author sews a flawless seam of folks who love their home and each other.
Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
A deep love for home suffuses this heartfelt, well-crafted debut novel set in the Kentucky hills. Clay Sizemore, a young coal miner from a big family and a small town, never doubts that he will live out his life in the place where he was born. His mother, Anneth, was killed when he was only four, and he never knew his father, but he is surrounded by the people he loves: his big-hearted, God-fearing Aunt Easter; Dreama, the beautiful cousin he loves like a sister; and Cake, his party boy best friend. Clay and Cake work hard, and play hard at the local honky-tonk, but both want more from life than work, drink and empty sex. For Clay, the future is Alma, a passionate young fiddler separated from her abusive husband and estranged from her gospel-singing parents. But the past concerns him, too: given a box of his beloved mother's possessions, he pieces together her troubled history, while his great-uncle pieces a quilt from her clothing. Violence is inescapable in a place where even Clay carries a pretty pearl-handled pistol, and his mother's violent end foreshadows a death that threatens Clay and Alma's happiness together. The Kentucky landscape is suffused with nostalgia, snow making one character yearn for the past, lonesome autumn unlocking memory's vaults. Deftly written, replete with wisdom and remarkably light on sentimentality, this lovely novel makes plain the value of family and the preciousness of familiar ground. Author tour. (Mar. 30) Forecast: Healthy regional sales are indicated for this title; handselling will help. Strong reviews in national publications should move a few copies, too. Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
A Kentucky author's plaintive debut tells the story of coal miner Clay Sizemore's efforts to understand and possess his own history, shattered when he was a three-year-old present at his own mother's murder. The novel segues between Clay's relationships with loving kinfolk and his growing affection for Alma Asher, the divorced woman he hopefully marries-its separate fragments intended to cohere into a "quilt" (of sorts) that will clarify the pattern of Clay's life. This is Wendell Berry territory, and House doesn't really take us anywhere we haven't already been-but his secondary characters (such as Clay's hell-raising cousin Cake and his gentle, visionary Aunt Easter) are lively and likable. And there are some stunningly beautiful moments (e.g., "When the lightning flashed, he imagined he could see all of the dead people he had ever known of, standing in line down the road"). An appealing and promising debut. Author tour
Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780345450692
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 2/28/2002
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 320
  • Sales rank: 223,179
  • Product dimensions: 5.46 (w) x 8.25 (h) x 0.67 (d)

Meet the Author


Silas House is the author of Clay's Quilt and A Parchment of Leaves. He is the recipient of the Kentucky Book of the Year Award and the James Still Award, from the Fellowship of Southern Writers. A Parchment of Leaves was a Book Sense Top Ten pick and a citywide reader's pick in four cities. A graduate of Spalding University, with an M.F.A. in writing, House lives with his wife and two daughters in Eastern Kentucky.
Read More Show Less

Read an Excerpt

They were in a car going over Buffalo Mountain, but the man driving was not Clay's father. The man was hunched over the steering wheel, peering out the frosted window with hard, gray eyes. The muscle in his jaw never relaxed, and he seemed to have an extra, square-shaped bone on the side of his face.

"No way we'll make it without getting killed," the man said. His lips were thin and white.

"We ain't got no choice but to try now," Clay's mother, Anneth, said. "We can't pull over and just set on the side of the road until it thaws."

Clay listened to the tires crunching through the snow and ice as they moved slowly on the winding road. It sounded as if they were driving on a highway made of broken glass. On one side of the road there rose a wall of cliffs, and on the other side was a wooden guardrail. It looked like the world dropped off after that.

They met a sharp curve and the steering wheel spun around in the man's hands. His elbows went high into the air as he tried to straighten the car. The two women in the back cried out "Oh Lord!" in unison as one was thrown atop the other to one side of the car. Anneth pressed her slender fingers deep into Clay's arms, and he wanted to scream, but then the car was righted on course. The man looked at Anneth as if it were her fault.

The women in the back had been carrying on all the way up the mountain, and now they laughed wildly at themselves for being scared. They acted like going over the crooked, ice-covered highway was the best time they had had in ages, and the man kept telling them to shut up. It seemed they lit one cigarette after another, so many that Claycouldn't tell if the mist swirling around in the cab of the car was from their smoking or their breathing.

The heater in the little car didn't work, and when one of the women hollered to the man to give it another try, the vents rattled and coughed, pushing out a chilling breeze. Clay could see his own breath clenching out silver in front of him until it made a white fist on the windshield. The man wiped the glass off every few minutes, and when he did, he let out a line of cusswords, all close and connected like a string of paper dolls.

Anneth exhaled loudly and said, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't cuss and go on like that in front of this child."

"Well, God almighty," the driver said. "I ain't never been in such a mess before in my life."

Clay knew that his mother was getting mad because a curl of her hair had suddenly fallen down between her eyes. She pushed it away roughly, but it fell back again.

"They ain't no use taking the Lord's name in vain. I never could stand to hear that word," she said. She patted Clay's hands and focused on the icy highway. "Sides, you ought to be praying instead of handling bad language."

"Yeah, you're a real saint, ain't you, Anneth Sizemore?" the man said, and a laugh seemed to catch in the back of his throat. He pulled his shoulders up in a way that signaled he was ready to stop talking. Clay watched him hold tightly to the steering wheel and look out at the road without blinking. He knew this man somehow, but couldn't figure how exactly, and he didn't feel right with him. He wished that his father had been driving them. He reconsidered and simply wished he could put a face to the word daddy. He was only four, but he had already noticed that most of his cousins had fathers, while his was never even spoken of. He wondered if his father would smell so strongly of aftershave, like this man, and have a box-bone in his cheek that tightened every few minutes. He started to ask his mother about this but didn't. He had so many questions. Today alone, he couldn't understand what all had gone on.

Clay looked out at the snow and wondered if the world had stopped. Maybe it had frozen, grown silver like the creek water around the edges of rocks. They had not met one car all the way over the mountain, and the few houses they passed looked empty. No tracks on the porches, no movement at the windows. Thin little breaths of black smoke slithered out of chimneys, as if the people had left the fires behind.

The windows frosted over again, and Anneth took the heel of her gloved hand and wiped off the passenger window so they could look out. The pines lining the road were bent low and pitiful, full of clotted ice and winking snow. Some of the trees had broken in two. Their limbs stuck out of the packed snow like jagged bones with damp, yellow ends bright against the whiteness. There was not so much sunshine as daylight, but the snow and ice twinkled anyway. The cliffs had frozen into huge boulders of ice where water had trickled down to make icicles.

"Look," Anneth said, "them icicles look like the faces of people we know."

She whispered into Clay's ear and pointed out daggers of ice. The one with the big belly looked like Gabe. One column of ice looked like a woman with wigged-up hair, just like his aunt Easter. There was even one that favored the president, who was on television all of the time. Clay put his hands inside hers. The blue leather gloves she had on were cold to his bare hands. He didn't move, though, and hoped the warmth of her fingers would seep down into his own.

"I need to get this baby some mitts," Anneth said, to no one in particular. The women were singing, and the driver was ignoring every one of them. "His little hands is plumb frostbit."

She undid the knot at her neck and slid the scarf around her collar with one quick jerk. The scarf was white, with fringes on each end. She shook out her hair and picked at it with one hand. The car was filled with the smell of strawberries. She always washed her hair in strawberry shampoo, except on Fridays, when she washed it with beer. She took his hands and lay the scarf out across her lap, then wound the scarf round and round his hands, like a bandage.

"I'm awful ashamed to have on gloves and my baby not," she said as she worked with the scarf. "There," she said. There was a fat white ball in Clay's lap where his arms should have met.

One of the women in the back put her chin on the top of the front seat. "I hain't never seen a vehicle that didn't have a heater or a radio. This beats it all to hell."

The man shot her a hateful look in the rearview mirror.

She fell back against her seat and began to sing "Me and Bobby McGee." The other woman joined in and they swayed back and forth with their arms wrapped around each other's necks. Their backs smoothed across the leather seat in rhythm with the windshield wipers. They snapped their fingers and cackled out between verses.

"Help us sing, Anneth!" one of them cried out. "I know you like Janis Joplin."

Anneth ignored them, but she hummed the song quietly to Clay, patting his arm to keep in tune.

The man said that he would never make it off the downhill side of the mountain without wrecking and killing them. There was more arguing over the fact that they couldn't pull over. They would surely freeze to death sitting on the side of the road. They were on top of the mountain now, far past the row of houses. There was nothing here but black trees and gray cliffs and mountains that stretched out below them. Everybody started talking at once, and it reminded Clay of the way the church house sounded just before the meeting started.

Clay looked over his mother's shoulder at the women. One of the women was looking at herself in a silver compact and patting the curls that fell down on either side of her face. She snapped the compact shut with a loud click and looked up at him happily.

"Don't worry, Clay," she said. "We'll make it off this mountain." He could see lipstick smudged across her straight white teeth.

The other woman stared blankly into space, and it took her a long moment to realize that Clay was studying her. She was beautiful, much younger than his mother, but as Clay looked at her, she aged before his eyes. Her face grew solid and tough, her skin like a persimmon. Her eyes looked made of water, her nose lengthened and thinned, and her mouth pinched together tightly. He caught a glimpse of what would never become of her, because she was killed that day, alongside his mother and the man driving the car.

The man's voice was suddenly harsh. "Well, I was good enough to take you over there, now dammit. I need to pull off and calm down some," he said loudly. "My nerves is shot all to hell."

"I'll never ask you to do nothing else for me, then," she said with disgust. "I ain't worried about myself--I have to get this baby home."

"Hellfire, I'd rather be home, too, but this road is a sight," he said. "You ought not got that child out in this. I'm pulling over, and that's all there is to it."

"Go on, then," Anneth shouted in a deep voice. She turned toward the window and didn't speak to him again.

"Let's just set here a few minutes and figure something out," the driver said.

The shoulder widened out and they could see the mountains spread out below. The white guardrail was wound about by dead vines that showed in brown places through the thick snow. The mountains looked like smudges of paint, rolling back to the horizon until they faded into one another in a misted-over heap.

Anneth wiped the icy window off once more and said, "Look how peaceful. Look at them mountains, how purple and still."

Clay knew that the mountains looked purple under that big, moving sky, but they didn't look still at all to him. They seemed to be breathing --rising so slowly, so carefully, that no one noticed but him. He watched them, concentrating the way he did when he was convinced a shadow had moved across his bedroom wall. It seemed to Clay that they rose and fell with a single pulse, as if the whole mountain chain was connected.

Everyone had grown silent looking out at the hills, and later this struck Clay as strange. They were all accustomed to seeing hills laid out before them, but there was something about this day, something about how silently the mountains lay beneath the snow.

It was so quiet that Clay was certain that the end of the world had come. Everybody on earth had been sucked up into the sky in the twinkling of an eye. He was used to hearing people talk about the End and the Twinkling of an Eye; his Aunt Easter constantly spoke of such things. She looked forward to the day when Jesus would part the clouds and come after His children. "Rapture," she called it, and the word was always whispered. Easter said if you weren't saved, you'd be left behind.

He pressed against his mother and felt the warmth of her body spread out across his back. She ran her fingers through his hair and began to hum softly again. He could feel the purr of her lungs against his face. It was the same song the women had been singing. Clay knew it by heart. He'd watched his mother iron or wash dishes while she listened to that song. Sometimes she would snatch him up and dance around the room with him while the song was on the record player. She had sung every word then, singing especially loud when it got to the part about the Kentucky coal mines. The vibration in her chest was as comforting as rain on a tin roof, and he fought his sleep so that he could feel it. She must have thought he was asleep, too, because finally she took her hand from his head and stopped humming.

She pressed her face to the window, leaning her forehead against the cold glass. "I ain't never seen it so quiet on this mountain," she said.

That was the last thing Clay was aware of, but afterward, he sometimes dreamed of blood on the snow, blood so thick that it ran slow like syrup and lay in stripes across the whiteness, as if someone had dashed out a bucket of paint.

Copyright 2002 by Silas House
Read More Show Less

Reading Group Guide

1. When Clay told his Aunt Easter he was moving out of her house, she cried until her eyes were red and swollen. She tells Clay that a family should live right together. Does Clay's tight-knit, extended family enable or hinder his search for his mother, Anneth, and his quest for meaning in his life? Discuss how your own experiences within an extended family relate to Clay's.

2. How does the Pentecostal religion affect Clay Sizemore's life? What influences have the Free Creek Pentecostal Church had on Clay? Give examples of how Clay both abides by and rebels against the church's teachings. How does the Pentecostal faith compare to your own religious experiences?

3. Discuss the author's use of dialect in this story. What words or phrases spoken by the characters were unfamiliar to you? How do the characters' speaking styles affect your interpretation of the story? What do you learn about the characters by the way they talk?

4. Discuss how music is used throughout the novel. Are you able to identify with the musicians and/or songs that are referenced? What do the various musical choices say about the characters in the novel?

5. What does Alma's fiddle and her style of music signify for you? Does the fiddle serve as a larger metaphor in the story?

6. What role does nature and the Appalachian landscape play in Clay's Quilt?

7. Clay's Uncle Paul, the quilter in this story, feels geography and history beneath his fingertips while searching for fabric to use in a quilt. What does this mean? How does the quilt work as a symbol in this story? What are your own experiences with family quilts?

8. What is your reaction to Easter's second sight, or her ability to foresee the future? Is it a blessing or a curse? Have you ever known anyone who had visions such as Easter? Do Easter's visions allow the reader to have a second sight as well?

9. Explain the relationship between Clay and Cake. Are they just drinking buddies?

10. What purpose does Anneth's letter to Clay serve in the novel?

11. What does the title of the second part of the novel, Flying Bird, mean to you?

12. If home is a dominant theme in this story, what happens to the plot, the characters, and the tone of the story when Alma and Clay leave the mountains of eastern Kentucky and travel to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina?

13. Compare and contrast the rituals of Appalachian weddings and funerals in Clay's Quilt to your own experiences.

14. Does it seem incongruent or troubling to you that many of the characters, so deeply rooted in family tradition and religion, also participate in a lifestyle of drinking, drug use, and domestic violence? Why or why not? What does the author achieve by juxtaposing sacred and secular behaviors throughout the story?

15. With which character(s) do you most closely identify? Why?

16. Discuss the perceptions your reading group has about Appalachian people in general. Does this novel alter your no-tions about contemporary life in the Appalachian mountains of Kentucky? In what ways?

17. Has your group read other novels set in Appalachia or about Appalachian characters? If so, compare and contrast those novels to Clay's Quilt.

Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 15 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(12)

4 Star

(1)

3 Star

(1)

2 Star

(1)

1 Star

(0)

Your Rating:

Your Name: Create a Pen Name or

Barnes & Noble.com Review Rules

Our reader reviews allow you to share your comments on titles you liked, or didn't, with others. By submitting an online review, you are representing to Barnes & Noble.com that all information contained in your review is original and accurate in all respects, and that the submission of such content by you and the posting of such content by Barnes & Noble.com does not and will not violate the rights of any third party. Please follow the rules below to help ensure that your review can be posted.

Reviews by Our Customers Under the Age of 13

We highly value and respect everyone's opinion concerning the titles we offer. However, we cannot allow persons under the age of 13 to have accounts at BN.com or to post customer reviews. Please see our Terms of Use for more details.

What to exclude from your review:

Please do not write about reviews, commentary, or information posted on the product page. If you see any errors in the information on the product page, please send us an email.

Reviews should not contain any of the following:

  • - HTML tags, profanity, obscenities, vulgarities, or comments that defame anyone
  • - Time-sensitive information such as tour dates, signings, lectures, etc.
  • - Single-word reviews. Other people will read your review to discover why you liked or didn't like the title. Be descriptive.
  • - Comments focusing on the author or that may ruin the ending for others
  • - Phone numbers, addresses, URLs
  • - Pricing and availability information or alternative ordering information
  • - Advertisements or commercial solicitation

Reminder:

  • - By submitting a review, you grant to Barnes & Noble.com and its sublicensees the royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable right and license to use the review in accordance with the Barnes & Noble.com Terms of Use.
  • - Barnes & Noble.com reserves the right not to post any review -- particularly those that do not follow the terms and conditions of these Rules. Barnes & Noble.com also reserves the right to remove any review at any time without notice.
  • - See Terms of Use for other conditions and disclaimers.
Search for Products You'd Like to Recommend

Recommend other products that relate to your review. Just search for them below and share!

Create a Pen Name

Your Pen Name is your unique identity on BN.com. It will appear on the reviews you write and other website activities. Your Pen Name cannot be edited, changed or deleted once submitted.

 
Your Pen Name can be any combination of alphanumeric characters (plus - and _), and must be at least two characters long.

Continue Anonymously
Sort by: Showing all of 15 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 12, 2002

    Clay's Quilt

    I heard about this author at the recommendation of Leif Enger, who wrote PEACE LIKE A RIVER. I am so glad that I did, because I believe he is one of the best Southern authors I have ever read. He made the place so real that I feel as if I have not only been to Free Creek, Kentucky, but I have actually lived there, fallen asleep listening to its creek, smelled its coal smoke. What a beautiful novel. I can't wait for his new one, which comes out in the fall, I believe. Do youself a favor and read CLAY'S QUILT.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted November 5, 2012

    Excellent work!!!

    Love Silas House!

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 28, 2009

    I Also Recommend:

    other books set in appalachia are better

    This book is an easy read, but has a pretty predictable plot. Lots of regional issues are in the book, but they are not explored very deeply. If you don't live in the area or know much about Appalachia, you won't learn much from this book. There's not much character development. Clay's a good old boy, but there's not much reason to really care about him. Most of the characters are boring and predictable. I've read tons of books from southern authors and most do a much better job exploring the cultural issues of the region.

    0 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted October 22, 2004

    One of the best books I haveread in 2004

    I read every day for hours all kinds of books. 'Clay's Quilt' is one of the best books that I have read in years! It is pure poetry that takes the reader to another place. The book just sucks you in to the mountains of Kentucky and its people.You wish that you were a part of their lives. Silas House can write!! I look forward to reading more from him in the future. What a gift he has!

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted September 30, 2004

    Take this book and read it.

    I didn't expect much out of this book after purchasing it off of the clearance rack at a local book store for two dollars. I was SO WRONG. I actually felt like I became part of the book. I have read it a few more times just for pure enjoyment. I must-read for everyone.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 12, 2002

    Clay's Quilt

    My favorite book of the year. So moving, so beautifully written. I want everyone to read it.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted July 15, 2002

    Vivid

    This book is wonderful. I cannot wait to read his next book. House's writing is lyrical.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted July 26, 2002

    Real Kentucky Life Celebrated

    I first heard of Mr. House while reading a publication from Eastern Kentucky University. Because we attended the same university and I also write stories that take place in my native Kentucky, I was instantly drawn to this book. After finishing the first chapter, I knew that the characters and themes Mr. House so vividly describes not only are universal but they celebrate Kentucky life in such a way that all readers can feel bluegrass between their toes and smell tobacco hanging in the barn. Wow! Thank you Mr. House for bringing these Kentuckians to life. I want to invite Easter and Clay and Alma over for supper. They are that real.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted June 27, 2001

    The fabric of life, stitched with style

    Vividly poetic in its description of Appalachian natural resources, heartwarming and honest in its portrayal of people linked by their love for their environs and family, Clay¿s Quilt is in the top three on my ¿re-read often¿ list. In this debut novel, Silas House deftly stitches a search for understanding and love with picturesque Appalachia. Clay Sizemore is a character any reader will quickly befriend, not only because of the tragedy of losing his mother, but because Clay is a loveable young man. House¿s prose places the reader, like a close friend, beside Clay. Whether Clay is at work in the coal mine, walking the mountainside, or partying at the local honky-tonk, we are there with him, feeling the grit of coal dust in our eyes, smelling the air on Free Mountain, or throwing down a whiskey with a beer chaser on a Saturday night. There is something to be said when a reader can feel for a story¿s rogues. Even the villains and the socially challenged characters in Clay¿s Quilt are people with whom a reader will identify. House takes us into their hearts, to the places that hurt, to those hidden areas where malice and evil ferment, torment and eventually explode with terrible consequences. Life, human and natural, pulsates through the veins of this story. Long after its first reading, ¿Clay¿s Quilt¿ will warm the reader.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted February 23, 2001

    Writing the Musical Soul of Appalachia

    Clay Sizemore's poignant search for his place in his community and his search for a family are central in this wonderful debut novel. The element that moves and underscores the action is music. This is a novel with a 'soundtrack.' The soundtrack sings of Clay's search for identity, modern Appalachia, and the children of the Post-Vietnam, War on Poverty Generation. The reader will fall in love with and be haunted by the characters.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 1, 2001

    Great Read

    An advance reader's copy of this novel showed up at the magazine where I work as copy editor and the managing editor just picked it up to see what it was about and couldn't put it down until she had finished the book. Upon her recommendation, I read it as well and have to say that it captured me, too. The characters are so real that by novel's end, they seem like people you actually know. That's the thing that really sold me and kept me invested in the novel and what the future held for these characters. Even though I've never even been to Kentucky, now I feel as if I have and I have a better understanding for the people that live there. I am rarely moved to tears by a book, but I have to admit that this one made me mist up a bit. It's strange in that it's a book with a male lead character and very male themes, but it is also very sensitive and wonderfully lyrical. I bet it makes you cry, too. Buy this for sometime when you can just sit back and take your time enjoying it. Highly recommended.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 7, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted March 26, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted January 26, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted January 24, 2014

    No text was provided for this review.

Sort by: Showing all of 15 Customer Reviews

If you find inappropriate content, please report it to Barnes & Noble
Why is this product inappropriate?
Comments (optional)