In the Language of My Country

A cold winter morning. A woman shivering before a fireplace. A sheriff's car waiting outside. Too young to understand her mother's depression and need for treatment, the narrator can only look on: "Before the door closed, I got a glimpse of the long, black car with its plumes of exhaust and my parents in the backseat." Tracing one strand of ancestry from the Mayflower and another from sixteenth century Paris to Appalachia, the stage is set for a compelling read, told first through the eyes ...