I love Rash, so it was great to dip back into his voice. The Cove is a strange little book (like many of Rash's novels), darker than you expect even when you expect it, but just so beautiful. In a way, that's the message of the book: the world is dark and bleak, full of pain and trials, but beauty is there, moments of light and love and grace.
"We used to think...when I was an unsifted girl...that words were weak and cheap. Now I don't know of anything so mighty." -Emily Dickinson
Showing posts with label Ron Rash. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ron Rash. Show all posts
Thursday, July 30, 2020
The Cove
30 July 2020: I've been getting so much more "reading for fun" done lately. The stacks of books on the tables by my bed are actually getting shorter (though they are still so big). Last night, I finished Ron Rash's The Cove, which sat there for at least five years (maybe more like eight!).
Thursday, December 8, 2016
Accepted!
8 December 2016: Today's good thing? An acceptance letter from Appalachian Journal for my Ron Rash article. I have some revisions to do, but man, I am thrilled. This one feels really good.
Labels:
appalachian lit,
one good thing,
publish or perish,
research,
Ron Rash,
writing
Tuesday, July 26, 2016
Ron Rash on Historical Fiction
26 July 2016: What can historical fiction achieve? That's a question at the heart of "The Facts of Historical Fiction," a short essay by Ron Rash, and a piece I spent some time thinking about today as I worked on an article about his work. In this essay, he discusses The World Made Straight, which in part explores the Shelton Laurel Massacre of 1863. He asks the big questions: What happened there? What made people shoot old men and young boys, men and boys they knew and lived with? And, on a larger scale, why do people commit such atrocities? Rash's piece is from 2006, but his questions are (sadly) timeless. And fiction, he asserts, can help us muddle our way through these questions.
As he moves towards the end of the piece, Rash writes about what he—as a writer—learned and didn't learn as he wrote his novel: "But if I failed to achieve understanding, I gained awareness. That may be the best that any work of historical fiction has to offer—not just to its author, but, more importantly, to its readers—a chance to grapple with the mysteries and complexities of the past, in hopes of seeing the present a little clearer."
I like this essay for many reasons, including how quintessentially Rash-ian (?) it is. It speaks to the specific and the universal, the local and the global. It points out what is gained, but also what is obscured or resists easy grasp. The last line, in fact, simply reads "It [the massacre] haunts me still."
As he moves towards the end of the piece, Rash writes about what he—as a writer—learned and didn't learn as he wrote his novel: "But if I failed to achieve understanding, I gained awareness. That may be the best that any work of historical fiction has to offer—not just to its author, but, more importantly, to its readers—a chance to grapple with the mysteries and complexities of the past, in hopes of seeing the present a little clearer."
I like this essay for many reasons, including how quintessentially Rash-ian (?) it is. It speaks to the specific and the universal, the local and the global. It points out what is gained, but also what is obscured or resists easy grasp. The last line, in fact, simply reads "It [the massacre] haunts me still."
Work Cited
Rash, Ron. "The Facts of Historical Fiction." Publishers Weekly, April 10, 2006. 78. Academic Search Complete. 25 July 2016. Web.
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