New titles by Table Rock Writers
We are so proud of Table Rockers ROBERTA SCHULTZ, CHRIS ARVIDSON, JOSEPH BATHANTI, JUDY GOLDMAN, PATTI MEREDITH and SUE WEAVER DUNLAP. Four poetry collections, a memoir and a novel are out in the world from these talented writers, who represent both instructors and students at Table Rock.
Roberta Schultz has been a regular participant at the workshop where she writes and performs with the Solatido Songwriters. UNDERSCORE, from Dos Madres Press, is her first full-length collection or poems, though Roberta is widely published as a poet and songwriter. According to Pauletta Hansel, the first poet laureate of Cincinnati: “The book is as expansive as a symphony, yet as necessary as a ballad (“its humble/quivering threads”). For those of us who read with pen in hand, Underscore is a book of poems in which lines will be underscored on every page for all they offer: solace, humor, wisdom, beauty and an occasional welcome jolt like “pulling back a curtain /on cold truths that/shudder in the dark.”
Chris Arvidson had already published a collection of essays about baseball, edited an anthology of writing about the New River, and now she favors us with her poetry. Table Rock instructor Darnell Arnoult offers this review: “In this debut chapbook, Christine Arvidson gets down to business with sharp and vivid images and wise-ass language of the best sort, all the while addressing the weight and buoyancy of the day-to-day, what’s coming round the bend, the parts “burning through the dark/rough and scaly” as well and the “sparkly bits.” She gives us the small and large ways we are “near disaster.” THE HOUSE INSIDE MY HEAD is being published by Finishing Line Press.
Poet, novelist, and all-around Table Rock pinch hitter and utility infielder Joseph Bathanti has a new collection of poems, LIGHT AT THE SEAM. LSU Press describes it as “an exploration of mountaintop removal in southern Appalachian coal country. The volume illuminates and champions often invisible people residing, in a precarious moment in time, on the glorious, yet besieged, Appalachian earth. Rooted in social and restorative justice, Light at the Seam contemplates the earth as fundamentally sacramental, a crucible of awe and mystery, able to regenerate itself and its people even as it succumbs to them. More than mere cautionary tale, this is a volume of hope and wonder.”
Longtime and much beloved memoir instructor Judy Goldman is out with another memoir, this time considering her relationship with the African American woman, Mattie, who sacrificed her own family obligations to care for Judy, a privileged girl growing up in South Carolina during segregation. Table Rock instructor Abigail DeWitt says: "Child is as profound a memoir as I've ever read. In one gorgeously rendered scene after another, Goldman illuminates the paradoxes of a loving childhood built on "unconscionable scaffolding." To read this riveting book is to learn how to hold the finest detail up to the light, how to examine all memory." The book will be available in May from the University of South Carolina Press.
Table Rocker and hospitality maven Patti Frye Meredith has just published a joyful novel with Main Street Rag that Darnell Arnoult calls “a celebration of growth and survival.” Sonja Livingston rightly calls Patti “a natural born storyteller.” Table Rock’s Donna Campbell writes: “The story of the McQueen family gives us lessons in forgiveness, redemption and transformation, for sure, even a few tips for getting rich quick. There are moments I laughed out loud, times that I worried and cried. But, mostly, when I finished, I wanted to get in the car and drive to Carthage and see if I could find anyone who ever knew these wonderful people. I wanted to eat a biscuit, write a letter to my uncle, and even go to church. And I found myself wondering just whatever happened to Zig Ziglar.”
Sue Weaver Dunlap is a Table Rock regular from Tennessee. Her second collection of poems with Iris Press is A WALK TO THE SPRING HOUSE. Table Rock founder Georgann Eubanks writes: “This surefooted account of Appalachian life in transition rings with faith and deep mourning. Sue Weaver Dunlap documents the rituals of making do, getting by, and ultimately, letting go—all in a landscape that is by turns glorious and harsh. She grounds us in plant and place names, native rock deposits, and the tools of farming and cooking. Ultimately, this musical homage to family leaves us wiser: Hearts know no end / when roots of the mighty hardwoods hold fast, / even after wind dies and souls transition.
You can order these books from the links above and please congratulate your fellow writers for their perseverance and faith!
REGISTRATION IS UNDERWAY for 2022
We have 40+ registrations so far, and we are strongly encouraging you to look for a roommate if you asked for a private room and don’t have a medical condition that requires solitude.
The season has already started at Wildacres, and everything is humming along. We do not anticipate a cancellation, but we do hope you will bring your own pillow and a mug, cup, or thermos for daily beverages. Wildacres is working hard to cut down on recycling and waste, so no plastic water bottles please!
It will be an exciting reunion and we’re already talking about how to make it extra special. Can’t wait!
The Prompt was and is…
It can be on any topic, but it needs to be lyrical, informative, and passionate writing. It can come from faculty or participants. This will be a competitive spot in the journal. You must convince our panel of readers with your very best writing. It can be an opinion, description, scene, or character study, but it must go somewhere and be compelling in and of itself. We will continue taking submissions of 500 words or less ! SEND TO: tablerockwriters@gmail.com
1973 Baby Blue Cutlass Supreme
By Gena Rawdon
“Get your education and you’ll never have to depend on a man to take care of you.” My grandfather was not one to give out advice, solicited or otherwise, but this is something he said to my sisters and me countless times. I knew the translation. What he meant was “get an education so you won’t end up with a man like your father, who yells and holds you at gunpoint and puts his hands on you.”
My grandparents spent several years walking on the same eggshells I did, our hearts racing at opposite ends of the county with every late-night phone call from my mother while we hid and waited on the police to arrive. Often those nights culminated in a ride to my grandparents’ farm, where I was held, rocked, my tears were wiped away and I was tucked into a bed with cool cotton sheets dried on the line in the back yard.
I realize now how scared my grandfather must have been when I went to one semester of college then quit to move out and get away from my narcissistic mother, after which I promptly met and fell in love with a man who was so much like my violent, mentally ill father that even I realized I chose him because I had unfinished emotional business. Luckily my heart talked me out of that fool’s errand after a couple of years and I started back to college, taking one class a semester.
A year or so later my 1973 baby blue Cutlass Supreme, held together by Bondo® and my force of will, heaved her final wheezing breath. I had no credit, so I asked my grandparents to co-sign a loan with me. My grandfather told me they would give me the $8,000 but I insisted on paying them back. He agreed with the stipulation that I pay them back with no interest and in any time frame my bank teller’s budget would allow. I did, religiously, but after a few months I realized I wanted a degree and I didn’t want it to take forever. I needed to ask my grandparents to renegotiate the loan.
A lump of dread rolled in my stomach as I pulled down the gravel road to their house, a feeling I never associated with my grandparents or the farm. Not one to delay the inevitable, I sat them down at their kitchen table and told them that I wanted to take more classes but that would mean it would take me longer to repay them. Before I could show them the new terms that I had carefully written out on a sheet of notebook paper, my grandfather started shaking his head. I panicked for a split second before he explained that all that mattered was that I finish my degree and he would accept no more payments on the car. It’s the only time I didn’t get my way with him.
Thank you for shining a light on all of us! I'm thrilled to be included here -- so many books from Table Rock folks!