1) Hereward L.M. Proops at Booksquawk posted a nice review of Auraria: “Westover’s English language debut is beautifully written and manages to bring to life the rich folklore of the Appalachians.”

2) Nicki J Markus posted an author interview with me. And here’s her review from back in March.

3) If you’re a LibraryThing user, you can enter to win an advance review copy as part of their Early Reviewers program.

4) Advance review copies are still available on NetGalley, too.

Elachee Nature Center, Gainesville GA

The Elachee Nature Center is neither a state nor federal park — it’s built on land donated to the county by Johnson and Johnson. The center hosts three small exhibits: one that traces the history of the area from Mesozoic to prehistoric humans to local settlers, one on space, and one with various reptiles, amphibians, and other delightfully squirmy things in aquariums for visitors to gawk upon.

Mosasaur Fossils

Turtle

The protected land hosts two kinds of nature — hundreds of acres of sheltered woodlands comprising the watershed of a creek, and a golf course. Fortunately, these two forms of nature are separated, as one often spoils the other. The woodlands has many miles of trails, but with the Lime riding in her stroller, we stayed confined to a one mile paved loop, which was still a pleasant walk.

Elachee

Somewhat unusually, the land for the nature center and golf course was preserved not through government intervention or citizens’ action, but through corporate need. Johnson and Johnson opened a textile mill here in 1927. One of the mill’s primary products was bandages, and bandages needed clean water. To ensure a constant supply of clean water, Johnson and Johnson had to protect the entire creek watershed. Once the mill began using municipal water and other sterilization techniques, the watershed was no longer required, and Johnson and Johnson donated the property to the county for administration as a recreational opportunity. The little mill town of Chicopee is still visible in the old houses and winding streets, which are very unlike a modern Piedmont suburb. I was heartened to see this bit of corporate good behavior.

Chicopee Mill Town

After leaving the nature center, the Lime fell asleep, and I drove as far as I could until she woke up. The place where we found ourselves was Dahlonega, where I’ve been many times before, for pleasure and research. There was an Indian pow-wow happening behind one of the gas stations — I considered stopping in here but decided against it. The inauspicious location did not deter me, but the numerous typos on the signage and promotional materials did. I can tolerate a misplaced comma as much as the next Kudzu-league liberal, but a dozen spelling mistakes in two short paragraphs made me feel uneasy.

Instead, the Lime and I toured the Dahlonega Gold Museum Historic Site, a state facility located in the old courthouse in the middle of the town square. It’s a small museum, but one that I love. Downstairs, there’s a safe with rare examples of Dahlonega-minted coins and a diverse collection of locally discovered nuggets. Other rooms have mineral samples, stamps and weights and measures, tools, and implements from daily life. The upstairs, the former courtroom chambers, has the nozzle of a mighty hydrocannon, used to wash tons of rock off the Dahlonega mountains and into the stamp mills, where gold ore was extracted. There’s also a short video presentation of the Dahlonega story, from the Trail of Tears, to the founding of Auraria, to Dahlonega’s heyday and decline as a mining town, to its renaissance as a tourist destination.

Minerals at Dahonega Gold Museum

The Lime had her lunch on the square, where the weather was perfect. In the later summer and fall, the square is filled with musicians — a giant bluegrass circle that meets every week. Several little venues throughout town make Dahlonega a haven for mountain music.

Lunch on the square

I hadn’t eaten yet, because I was saving my appetite for barbecue. On Route 60, between Gainesville and Dahlonega, is the Hickory Pig, proclaimed #1 barbecue in the greater Atlanta region by Atlanta Magazine. The building was tiny and ramshackle, barely more than a woodshed wrapped around a smoker. My heart soared — these are all excellent signs, as the quality of barbecue increases as the quality of the surroundings decreases. If there are ever white tablecloths at a barbecue place, excuse yourself politely before ordering.

Hickory Pig

Upon entering, I found myself in the middle of a family gathering. The proprietor, his wife, friends, and relations were sitting around the four tables in the tiny room, shooting the breeze. But they didn’t seemed particularly disturbed by interlopers, whether adult or infant. In fact, the Lime was very well received. While I ate ribs and brisket, the Lime was passed from arm to arm, making friends. She ate several spoonfuls of Brunswick Stew, which I made sure to note as a key milestone in the annuals of her infancy.

Barbecue at the Hickory Pig

I bought a pound of pulled pork to bring back to my wife. The hour-long trip home, in the company of such a quantity of delicious smoky meat product, was a trial of restraint and self-denial, and I am only a little ashamed to say that it wasn’t a full pound of pulled pork that made it back.

Among the books her library, her favorite book is Winnie-the-Pooh, which her mother is reading to her in English, and I am reading to her in Esperanto.

2011 was the Year of the Lime — the year that “Book and Banjo” became “Baby, Book, and Banjo.” I’d predicted that having a newborn in the house would cut into my reading time (and it was a tradeoff I’d gladly make). But, having a newborn seemed to give me more time for reading. The iPhone Kindle app helped turn time spent waiting in the doctor’s office into a few pages, as did listening to audiobooks in the car while lulling baby Limelette to sleep. (I consider listening to unabridged audiobooks to be the equivalent of reading the book.)

In 2011, I read the following 70 books. I’ve bolded the ones I especially enjoyed or recommend.

January 2011
Myths, History, and Sacred Formulas of the Cherokee

February 2011
The Great Gatsby
No Country for Old Men
The Turn of the Screw
The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg
Mile-High Fever
Wizard and Glass
Eats, Shoots, and Leaves

March 2011
The Dream of Perpetual Motion
The Kingdom of Ohio
At Home
Wise Blood
Roughing It
The Reivers

April 2011
Pym
Foxfire Book
American Gods
Gilead

May 2011
Deathless
Disappearing Spoon
Infinite Jest
A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again

June 2011
Strange Angel
The Possessed
The Spirit Thief
The Tiger’s Wife
Confederates in the Attic
A Visit from the Goon Squad

July 2011
American Lightning
From My People: 400 Years of African American Folklore
Rich in Love
Georgia Odyssey
Charlatan
50 Favorite Houses by Frank Lloyd Wright
Children of Fire
Georgia Curiosities
Creating Black Americans
Woman of Color, Daughter of Privilege
Flowing Through Time

August 2011
Slavery in the American Mountain South
Their Eyes Were Watching God
That Half-Barbaric Twang
Every Tongue Got to Confess
Bel Canto
African Banjo Echoes in Appalachia
Drunkard’s Walk
The Souls of Black Folks
The Original of Laura

September 2011
Blacking Up
The Language of Science and Faith
Let’s Play White
Moby Dick
Tambo and Bones
Folks Visions & Voices
Musicophilia
Pale Fire
The Signifying Monkey

October 2011
Seal Skin
Swamplandia!
Mail-Order Mysteries
The City & The City
Folk-Songs from the Southern Highlands
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks

November 2011
Wolves of the Calla
Bossypants
Pilgrim of the Sky

December 2011
Embassytown
Rise and Fall of the Bible
Cailiffs of Baghdad, Georgia
The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat

Among my favorites of the places I’ve visited is Radium Springs, located near Albany, GA.

Radium Springs

Radium Springs is a natural spring that wells up only a few hundred yards away from the Flint River. The springs, under the name Blue Springs, were popular in the 19th century, but the name was changed in the 1920′s following the discovery of trace amounts of radium in the water. Radium was thought to be a miracle cure for all kinds of medical ailments, and many fad treatments and quack recipes boasted of their radium content.

Radium Springs

The water is very clear and very blue. You can see the bottom of the river bed through the water much more easily than in the nearby Flint River. I still wouldn’t drink it, though…

An elaborate hotel and casino were built at the edge of Radium Springs, which was the site of relaxation, dining, and dancing. The casino survived into the 1990′s and was finally demolished after historic flooding in 2003.

Radium Springs Casino

Source: Geocaching.com

The county purchased Radium Springs and maintains a small parking area and overlook with informational signage. In 2010, the county also renovated a portion of the original spring area, including walkways, gazebos, gardens, and more. Alas, the casino has not been restored. There’s no admission charge, so if you’re ever in Albany, stop by!

Radium Springs Today

Further reading:

http://www.geocaching.com/seek/cache_details.aspx?guid=b47ae67d-7077-422c-a529-aa6d423b22a5

http://radiumsprings.albanyhightimes.com/

A quick excerpt:

In our neighborhood, all the houses were alike; their complex geometry, indistinguishable. But mine was the most splendid of the identical houses, because I framed it with an impeccable lawn. Blades of grass stood in unbroken lines: crew-cut, uniform, regimental green. The lawn was the perfect complement to the red brick of the house itself, and behind that, the vast blue emptiness of sky.

But such a spectacle is paid for in vigilance. I walked the lawn every evening, being careful to vary my path so as not to flatten the zoysia. I suffered no weed to survive the night; I dug out their roots with a thin-bladed knife. My neighbors, dwelling in their own identical houses, let crabgrass spoil their property and lives.

The first sign was so small. During my patrol, I found a sapling, almost a foot tall, which had not been there the night before. I am aware of what occurs on my lawn above all other pieces of land in this world. I know it better than my own face in the mirror. Had the sapling instead been a tendril of kudzu, the stalk of a sunflower, even the grasping face of a dandelion, I could have understood its sudden appearance. But a sapling, no matter how small, does not sprout over night. I dug up the sapling and worried about its roots; how far could they have spread in a day?

No singing trees this time, but still plenty of trees.

Read more on Wikipedia or just watch it on YouTube (10 minutes long, with subtitles).

When carving our Halloween pumpkins, I thought that some of the images from the film might be appropriately rendered in the medium. Here’s the result:

Hedgehog in the Fog Pumpkin

Of all the pumpkins I’ve made, this may not be the best carving, but it is my favorite.

This was the scene that I was copying:

Hedgehog in the Fog

Karen Russell’s Swamplandia! has been getting a lot of buzz (they’re even going to make an HBO miniseries from it). And for the first 83% of the book, I was on board, I was loving it. The premise (the dissolution of the Bigtree family of alligator wrestles following the death of their matriarch) is amazing; the writing is great (orate, lush, and surprising); the characters are intriguing. The rival Hell-themed amusement park is inspired in its details.

But there is a scene 83% of the way through the book that almost made me want to give up, and the book never recovered from this moment.

Spoilers ahoy:

That scene is the rape of the 13-year-old narrator by the seedy “Obi-Wan” of the novel, the Bird Man. I understand that powerful literature deals with dramatic, often profoundly repulsive moments. These moments change the lives of their participants forever. But the scene seems to have very little emotional weight for Ava, the narrator / victim. Her takeaway is “Huh, he raped me, so maybe I shouldn’t trust him anymore.” But maybe that’s the point? That’s how a tough-as-nails 13-year-old from the Florida swamp would deal with the situation? Somehow, I don’t think so. The language that Russell uses for the scene is unpleasant — almost voyeuristic, and I didn’t want to read it.

And then, the plot of the novel goes to pieces. Ava’s familiar, a red baby alligator, who has been an important symbol through the whole novel, is sacrificed uselessly. The quest narrative that had been driving half the book peters into nothingness. Ava doesn’t complete her mission to save her sister; that’s done by accident, when her brother accidentally lands his sea plane and happens to find her.

There is no resolution for the story of the Bigtree clan; no monumental showdown between father and son, children and parents, bank and alligator farm, dream and reality.The denouement plays out too quickly, in just a few pages. The farm is lost, the girls dress up in school uniforms and wrestle no more alligators forever.

The resolution doesn’t seem motivated by the forgoing story. We were acquainted with exceptional characters; they never learn that they aren’t exceptional, but they become ordinary anyway. This basic plot movement, though dark and dispiriting, could be very powerful. And Russell doesn’t deliver on it at all. I can see how it is supposed to work from Ava’s victimization, sacrifice, and ineffectuality, but it just doesn’t come together.

Read Swamplandia! 83% of it is amazing. Stop before the end and imagine a better one.