On bifurcated character, wine socialists, and need certainly to center feminist political environment in discussions of contemporary Appalachia.
“Nothing’ll actually fix what’s broken in this city, nevertheless would be great if they’d at the least have the lifeless keep out of the parking lot at edibles Country.” Very begins the name facts of Leah Hampton’s first collection F*ckface: as well as other Stories (Henry Holt & Co.)—a at the same time raucous and sobering look at rural life inside the modern-day United states southern area. The tenor of that beginning line, world-weary and crazy, characterizes Hampton’s prose: she mines the fractured scarring of industry on area and affairs while nevertheless making time for jokes. That humor might be how we, and Hampton’s characters, survive.
These stories were populated by tough staff and large dreamers, by university students applied at slaughterhouses, by a gay technology sergeant with bigoted moms and dads, by broken groups of beekeepers, by a female in love with this lady husband’s best friend—but more in deep love with the sparkle of Dolly Parton. As a West Virginia local (the sole county regarded Appalachian in totality), I sensed a deep link with the folks and mountains of F*ckface, and that I know I got to talk to mcdougal. Hampton are a graduate in the Michener Center for experts, and she lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Michelle Hogmire I’m ashamed to state that I found myself uncomfortable of being from western Virginia for a long period. Continue reading "Enough with “Mountain Man” Stereotypes: Leah Hampton Interviewed by Michelle Hogmire"