My Old True Love

Best Seller
My Old True Love by Sheila Kay Adams
Paperback $15.00

Sep 27, 2005 | 320 Pages

  • Paperback $15.00

    Sep 27, 2005 | 320 Pages

Praise

“As passionate and eventful as an Irish ballad.”
–The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

“I laughed, I cried. I felt everything I remember feeling as a child.”
–Dolly Parton

“Sheila Kay Adams can write the bark off a tree. . . . [Her] intimacy with mountain culture ranks with that of Lee Smith.”
–The Roanoke Times

“Deeply satisfying storytelling propelled by the desires of full-bodied, prickly characters set against a landscape rendered in all its beauty and harshness.”
–Kirkus Reviews

“Adams can make you laugh. And she can make you clear your throat and wipe at the corners of your eyes from emotion. This is no small thing. She has the gift.”
–Chattanooga Times Free Press

Author Q&A

A Conversation with Sheila Kay Adams

Sheila Kay Adams talks with her youngest son, Andrew Barnhill, about the writing of My Old True Love, their ancestors, and the traditions they both love. Andrew is also a writer, musician, and singer of the old songs. He lives in Mars Hill, North Carolina.

Andrew Barnhill: What inspired you to write a novel like My Old True Love?

Sheila Kay Adams: The inspiration for the novel came from a story Daddy told me. It was the first Saturday in June and we’d spent it cleaning off graves, since Sunday was our family’s Decoration Day. We were resting on the porch drinking water from quart jars. “We must’ve cleaned off every grave in Sodom, Daddy.” Daddy laughed. “Lord no, honey. They’s old graveyards all over the place. We couldn’t get to all of them if we worked a solid week.” He pointed off across the valley. “There’s one up yonder on the spine of the Pilot. See them pine trees?” “Who’s buried up there?” “I believe that’s where they buried your great-uncle, Hackley Norton, after the battle of Winding Stairs during the Civil War. They said Larkin Stanton brought him all the way from Rip-Shin throwed across the back of a mule.”“Who was Larkin Stanton?” Daddy got this look on his face that let me know a good story was fixing to be told. “Well, Larkin Stanton was born an orphan . . .” It was dark when he finished the story. Of course Daddy had to take me up there later in the summer to see the graves of Hackley and Mary. And one Saturday on the way home from Marshall, we went by the cemetery at Walnut where Larkin Stanton was buried. Seeing their graves made such an impression on me. Over the years I guess Daddy retold that story a dozen times. I actually wrote it first as a short story and it was in with a bunch of stories Lee Smith convinced me to send to the University of North Carolina Press. There were so many Civil War stories in the submitted manuscript that my editor culled them and said I ought to keep them for another book. Boy, am I ever glad that happened! Otherwise the story would’ve been published in Come Go Home with Me in 1995. After Daddy’s death in 1998, I felt I needed to do something with all the great stories he’d told me through the years. In 1999, I was hired as singing coach for the movie Songcatcher, and over that summer I got to know the actor Aidan Quinn. We swapped a lot of stories back and forth, but it was the one about Hackley and Larkin that caught his ear. He was convinced it would make a great movie and encouraged me to write a screenplay. We worked together on it over that winter, but my heart kept telling me it should be a novel. My heart won out.

AB: As children you entertained us with stories from your childhood. While reading the book, I must admit I saw parts and pieces of those same stories, and some of the personalities seemed awfully familiar. How does your flair for storytelling influence your writing?

SKA: As you well know, we don’t have normal conversations in our family. I think you were the one who came up with “story-speak” to describe how we communicate. And in every story there are these great turns of phrase, speech peppered with fine old sayings, long uninterrupted pauses. Listening to Daddy and his brothers talk in “story-speak” was where I developed my ear for catching and being able to tell a good tale. The only problem with this (if it is a problem) is that all the voices telling stories in my head speak with a mountain accent. So I have a tendency to write with an accent as well. I had to tone it down quite a bit for the book. I had a great editor, Kathy Pories, who worked really hard helping me keep the flavor and flow without making it such a huge distraction for the reader. Many people who’ve read the book have also seen me perform from the stage. They all say my voice was right there in their heads the whole time they were reading. So after having said all that, I guess I would have to say my writing is really just storytelling from the page.

AB: Your depictions of southern Appalachia are, at times, both chillingly desperate and vividly beautiful. Describe how such an extreme variety of climates made a difference in the lives of your characters and your ancestors.

SKA: I have traveled all over and still feel like I live in one of the most beautiful places in the world. But it can also be awfully harsh. One hard winter in the mountains usually sends folks who aren’t accustomed to it scurrying for better climes. And if we think it’s challenging now, think what it must’ve been like when our people started showing up back in the mid-1700s. I don’t think it’s really possible for any of us today to imagine what it must’ve been like for those first settlers. It would’ve been the harshest sort of existence that would’ve called for a lot of determination. Mama said they were borderland Scots who moved to Northern Ireland during the reign of James I and from there they came here. They were called Scotch-Irish and they came for land, and they meant to have them some too. Daddy described them as clannish, hard-living, quick-to-anger people who would fight you just as soon as look at you. You know, I reckon they could have left, gone somewhere easier. But they stayed, generation after generation, and figured out not only how to survive, but developed a love of place that is pretty remarkable. And most of the folks I knew had this remarkably dry, sophisticated sense of humor. They were and still are some of finest people in the world. Arty, the narrator of My Old True Love, exhibits a certain resiliency that I saw in a lot of my kinfolk over in Sodom. She has that deep love of and connectedness to place and family. She also has a keen understanding of what she needs to do to survive. There was a sort of gentle hardness about her that I saw in the women and heard stories about while I was growing up over home. The beauty of the place and the harsh reality of it would’ve shaped a special kind of people: accepting but very determined, independent of spirit but also with a certain sense of community. That’s what I tried to get across in the novel.

AB: Edgar Allan Poe, among many others, once wrote of wild races of uncouth men living in the southern Appalachian Mountains. How would you address this stereotype, and how is it different from the culture you developed in you novel?

SKA: I remember watching The Beverly Hillbillies and Hee Haw and howling right along with the canned laughter. I had no idea they were making fun of us. I grew up in such a loving, close-knit community that I didn’t realize these stereotypes even existed until I got into college. I was introduced to that business when a girl from Myrtle Beach asked me if we really married our first cousins. I still chuckle at my totally innocent answer. “Lord, no,” I said. “You have to get down to second or third cousins before you can marry.” Back during World War II, Mama and Daddy went down to Mobile, Alabama, to work in the shipyards. Mama said they made such fun of her accent that she practiced in front of a mirror trying to lose it. She thought it was pretty funny that she worked so hard to lose the very thing I get paid to do. I guess I can understand how folks from outside the area might have seen my ancestors as somewhat lacking in social graces. I mean, let’s be honest—they would’ve been pretty rough characters. But where outsiders were way off the mark was in assuming these Appalachian people were lacking in culture. They were well blessed with that. The culture in the book was the one I grew up in, and I wanted to provide an insider’s perception for readers to dispel, with any luck, some of the old stereotypes. You know, I’m often puzzled how folks from outside the area still feel comfortable making fun of us. Honestly, I wish I had a nickel for every time a person comes up to me after a performance to share some completely unacceptable joke about mountain people. With a straight face they will say things about us that they would never say about any other ethnic group. I think that’s pretty sad.

AB: At the end of one of her novels, Alice Walker describes herself as an author and a medium. Did you have any similar experiences while writing My Old True Love?

SKA: That’s really interesting, because there were times when I felt like I was channeling Arty, that she was talking through me. I would wake up during the night with her voice talking so loud in my head that I would have to get up and write what she was saying. Sometimes she talked faster than I could write. My husband, Jim Taylor, went over to Knoxville to do some research on George Washington Kirk and found enlistment papers for Hackley and Larkin that had their physical descriptions written on them. Can you believe that descriptions I’d written a couple of months before were right on the money? When Zeke left for the war I swear I felt depressed for days, and I cried the whole time I was writing the chapter when Sylvaney and Ingabo died. There were days when I would get impatient and try to bull my way through without her and what I wrote during those times was somehow lacking. It just didn’t ring true, so I’d have to go back and say, “All right, Arty, let’s get to it.” When I wrote the last sentence in My Old True Love, she was gone. I went through a period of really missing her, mourning the loss of her, I guess. When I started working on this new book, which is set later in the nineteenth century, I was worried that the main character would sound like Arty, but that hasn’t been the case. Arty is not telling this story. A time or two, I’ve tried to call her back, but she’s really gone. I haven’t heard her voice at all.

AB: My Old True Love was originally written in third person. How did Arty’s voice emerge, and in what way did this change to first person affect the overall delivery of the story?

SKA: Arty showed up on the first page of the first draft, and I battled with her through several revisions. To be honest, I’ve never really cared for books written in first person, so I was pretty resistant to the idea. It was actually my editor at Algonquin, Kathy Pories, who convinced me that it needed to be Arty’s story. I figured it would take me months to change it from third person, but once I turned Arty loose, it went amazingly fast. I started the first week in August and wrote the last sentence the end of October. I really can’t imagine it being told any other way now. Arty’s delivery gave it intensity, a richness that didn’t exist in any of the other versions.

AB: Were you aware when you first began writing this novel that the ballad singing tradition would be as vital to the characters as it eventually became?

SKA: Not really. I’m not all that surprised, though. Aunt Arty was a great singer, Hackley really was a child prodigy on the fiddle, and Larkin supposedly had one of the best singing voices in that part of the world. And ballad singing would certainly have been a part of their lives, since the songs were passed down to me. When I was writing the book, I would be going right along and all of a sudden the characters in the book would start to sing. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to write down the song. It was a surprise how the tradition seemed to be such an important part in their everyday lives and how it fostered such an intimate connection between them.

AB: As a seventh-generation ballad singer, what do these ballads mean for you, your family, and the culture that keeps them?

SKA: For me, singing the ballads provides an almost mystical, unbroken connection to the past that I don’t think I could experience any other way. There’s this feeling of continuance that truly gladdens my heart. There really is something uplifting about singing a song I know someone in my family sang two hundred years ago. Sadly, the culture that nurtured the living, breathing tradition of singing the old songs is dead. When the outside world came for us with better roads, radio, telephones, and television, it was just a matter of time. My parent’s generation, in their mad dash to escape the crushing poverty of their childhoods, threw away their culture with both hands, the good along with the bad. So, now we have this tradition that’s not really a part of anything; it just sort of hangs out there, and we struggle to figure out what to do with it. I guess you could say it’s an anomaly. I don’t think the tradition is in danger of dying out anytime soon. There’s been a resurgence of interest in the old songs because of the movies O Brother Where Art Thou? and Songcatcher. The younger generation is starting to turn back to their musical heritage. I find that hopeful. I’m still keeping my fingers crossed that one, or all three, of my children will take it up.

AB: The largest source of external conflict in My Old True Love is the Civil War. How did the Civil War affect your region of the Appalachians, and what was the general response of your ancestors to the conflict?

SKA: Mama said the Civil War provided the opportunity, there around home, to settle old grievances, and there was certainly a lot of that. Brother fought against brother, families broke up, and communities split right down the middle. And they had to deal with roving bands of deserters who spent the war hiding out in the mountains. My family found themselves smack in the middle of the Union Army over in Tennessee and the Confederates down in Asheville and Marshall. From all I’ve read and the stories I grew up hearing, it was a terrifying time in the region’s history. What I tried to do in the book was keep the focus on those that were left behind using the Civil War as a sort of backdrop. I’ve always been fascinated with how people survive while the social structure is literally coming apart all around them. The majority of my family were pro-Union. Based on what all I heard growing up, they pretty much just wanted to be left alone, and given the choice they would’ve stayed out of the whole affair. My great-great grandfather—William Norton in the novel—really did say he thought it was a rich man’s war that would work its way around to being a poor man’s fight.

AB: How did their Scotch-Irish past influence their views on the major issues of the Civil War?

SKA: They had such a mistrust of the government, any government. This would’ve definitely been a carryover from their dealings with the British. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if they hadn’t felt some sort of visceral aversion to owning slaves given their relationship with the English. But in any event they were too poor to own slaves. Recall that Arty says there were no slaves in Sodom except them what were white and female. They were all fiercely independent and just wanted to farm their land and take care of their own. But the war came to them, and when they had to fight, they fought hard. I do know most of the men tried to stay close home to do their fighting. I doubt that they had much interest in states’ rights either. As a matter of fact, they tried to secede in the 1780s to form the State of Franklin because they believed they had so little in common with the rest of the state. I always figured it was a good thing they were so isolated here in the mountains for so long, since it was so obvious they couldn’t get along with anyone.

AB: My Old True Love is populated with a great many strong female characters. Was this typical of southern Appalachian culture?

SKA: Oh yes. The women were always in charge. The men just didn’t know it. They still are, and they still don’t.

AB:
Would you consider yourself a feminist, in the modern sense of the word?

SKA: If being a feminist means I think women should have the same political, economical, and social rights as men, then I’m definitely a feminist.

AB: You released an album showcasing the ballads and traditional music seen in My Old True Love. What motivated you to do so, and that surprises did it hold for you as both performer and producer?

SKA: Actually the only choice I made concerning the recording was the title, All the Other Fine Things. My husband, Jim, was the driving force behind the album. He produced it, chose the songs, arranged the fiddle tunes, and got some of the best singing out of me that I’ve ever done. He was my muse during the writing of the book and spent many an evening sitting on the floor of my office listening as I read what I’d written that day. His idea for a CD as a companion for the book happened pretty early on. He felt it would really add something, give more texture for the reader to be able to hear the songs they were reading about. The surprise is how well the CD has done. People say it’s like having a sound track for the book. I think this is exactly what Jim had in mind.

AB: Traditional Scotch-Irish ballads have been preserved in the southern Appalachian Mountains, truer to the original songs than exist today in England. Will these ballads live on, and what must be done to preserve them?

SKA:
Well, the ballads have survived into the twenty-first century and all we need to do to preserve them is exactly what Granny told me years ago: Keep singing them and passing them along.

AB: What would you like for readers to remember most about My Old True Love?

SKA: That human frailty is a condition of the heart that only love can cure.

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