Bøger af Joe Formichella

Scarpete is a literary detective investigating the mystery and death of the author who created him. His stories are the clues he uses to piece together what might have happened, and why.

Southern Writers Reading was the literary scene gone rogue,upsetting the apple carts of more than a couple of self-satisfied editorsin the region. It was the anti-establishment strain of the literary family,the kids in the back of the classroom shooting spitballs, lobbing rottenapples, thumbing their noses at grammatical prudes. And Williamhad nothing but disdain for posturing and preening, academic airs,mercenary social climbing, obsequious ass-kissing. And limousines. Nowonder he kept returning.1998-2008: these were literary magic years, with Big DaddySonny Brewer bringing the juju, along with partners-in-crime like JimGilbert, Kyle Jennings, Skip Jones, and Martin Lanaux. The communitycame alive, venues volunteered, folks opened their homes to lodgeauthors, throw parties, banquets, lunches and brunches, and the ABCstore did a very brisk business. The weekend's events all fell under theumbrella of Southern Writers Reading.Why "Southern"? There's been much debate over the lastcouple of decades about whether the classification should even existanymore. For my own self, I just know that when I was doing researchfor my 2003 novel In a Temple of Trees, I explored some very dark,Deliverance-like parts of West Alabama that took me right back to mychildhood days in southwest Georgia-in the 1950s. Places where timehas stopped. My protective guide took me to dives and honky tonksand drove me around with a man and his six-year-old son, both ofwhom enthusiastically chewed and spat tobacco. We visited a womanin jail accused of carving her boyfriend's rectum out with a fish scalingknife. I witnessed an elderly African American man address a teenagewhite boy as "sir," and not in an ironic way. Confederate flags were notuncommon.

"...although we know these marginal folks might be a train wreck waiting to happen, we would dearly miss them if they weren't there-refusing to fit neatly, safely beneath the bell curve."--R.P. Saffire, author of Shoe Burnin' Season: A WomanifestoLumpers is a family story, or rather, it's a story about what constitutes a family, a lot like what constitutes a rock-and-roll band: if it works, it's worth it, all other expectations be damned. The principal lumpers, Steph Abrams and Tony Zimbarco, chance to meet in Tripoli, Pennsylvania, in 1979, and commence assembling their ad hoc family piece by piece. Before long they are a full fledged unit, with a matriarch, of sorts, a patriarch, certainly, a designated pet, habits, rituals, even their own holiday. But it is in no way a textbook family, would never be sanctioned. As such, it is open to questioning, criticism, ridicule, and judgment. They ignore it all.The lumpers are just one portion of the legions of folks who work behind the scenes, the folks we rely on to keep the shelves stocked, the streets clean, the ports operating, and the systems we depend on so thoroughly functioning. They make no headlines, unless something goes wrong. They receive no accolades or attention, unless they deviate. When that happens, then they're noticed.For our Lumpers, though, deviation is the only option. In a life so otherwise proscribed, a life dictated by an indifferent and unforgiving time clock, deviation is survival. So they do, regularly, from the poolroom to the basketball court, the baseball stadium and the laundry mat. They ignore traffic rules and social mores equally. For that they are deemed unacceptable, irresponsible.But those judgments reveal more about the adjudicators than the condemned. Because just as we are certainly glad that they do what they do, that is, that they perform their jobs, even if that appreciation is only expressed by the assumption that they will - or pathetic whining when they don't - in the case of the Lumpers, life is clearly more fun when they're around, and we're definitely going to miss them when they're gone."Because all lives start with a crash, don't they?"-- Joe Taylor, author of Pineapple, Ghostly Demarcations

The "Last Best Class" of Fish River Community School had lost one of its members every year since the second grade. Waffle Houses were popping up throughout small-town Alabama with one corporate rule: "Good Food Fast." Struggling to cope with the tragedy that shadowed him most of his life, Dr. Jimmy Ryan dedicated himself to bringing people back from the brink, driven by his own guiding principle, "Ain't Dead Yet." Not until Jimmy's own death did the folks at the Waffle House in Penelope, Alabama, learn the full extent of the secrets buried with the dead -- secrets resurrected over hot coffee refills at the Waffle House.