A powerful testament to a son’s unyielding determination to tell his parents’ story.
A chilling memoir of a family tragedy and its painful aftermath.
In 1978, when Edwards (Food and Provisions of the Mountain Man, 2003) was 28, both his parents died under mysterious circumstances while sailing in the South Pacific with his brother Gary, his sister Kerry and a young family friend. In the wake of this devastating loss, it became clear to Larry—and the FBI investigators assigned to the case—that the timeline and logistics of his brother’s account of what happened were completely implausible. None of the survivors came forward with the full details, but it became apparent that only Gary could possibly be responsible for the deaths. The FBI’s case against him was built around circumstantial evidence, however, and as the investigation stretched out over years, the Edwards siblings struggled with the betrayal that tore their family apart. Larry began drinking more as he sought refuge from persistent questions from various law enforcement agencies about how and why his parents were killed. The author’s compelling real-life tragedy is the stuff true-crime books are made of; indeed, his parents’ case became the subject of a true-crime story, Ann Rule’s But I Trusted You (2009). Unfortunately, according to Edwards, that account was full of inaccuracies; it not only dredged up unresolved grief, but also created a new, terrible rift between him and another of his sisters. Edwards’ memoir examines every angle of the case in clean, clear prose, and the author’s keen desire to honor his parents’ memory gives his memoir its power. However, at times, the book seems overly concerned with pointing fingers at family members—not necessarily for their roles in the author’s parents’ deaths but for how they’ve behaved in the years since. That said, this book is an act of witness, and the author’s motivation is palpable throughout: “I have a right to know. Our family has a right to know. Society has a right to know.”
A powerful testament to a son’s unyielding determination to tell his parents’ story.Pub Date: July 9, 2013
ISBN: 978-0985972820
Page Count: 312
Publisher: Wigeon Publishing
Review Posted Online: Aug. 20, 2013
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2013
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
From the national correspondent for PBS's MacNeil-Lehrer Newshour: a moving memoir of her youth in the Deep South and her role in desegregating the Univ. of Georgia. The eldest daughter of an army chaplain, Hunter-Gault was born in what she calls the ``first of many places that I would call `my place' ''—the small village of Due West, tucked away in a remote little corner of South Carolina. While her father served in Korea, Hunter-Gault and her mother moved first to Covington, Georgia, and then to Atlanta. In ``L.A.'' (lovely Atlanta), surrounded by her loving family and a close-knit black community, the author enjoyed a happy childhood participating in activities at church and at school, where her intellectual and leadership abilities soon were noticed by both faculty and peers. In high school, Hunter-Gault found herself studying the ``comic-strip character Brenda Starr as I might have studied a journalism textbook, had there been one.'' Determined to be a journalist, she applied to several colleges—all outside of Georgia, for ``to discourage the possibility that a black student would even think of applying to one of those white schools, the state provided money for black students'' to study out of state. Accepted at Michigan's Wayne State, the author was encouraged by local civil-rights leaders to apply, along with another classmate, to the Univ. of Georgia as well. Her application became a test of changing racial attitudes, as well as of the growing strength of the civil-rights movement in the South, and Gault became a national figure as she braved an onslaught of hostilities and harassment to become the first black woman to attend the university. A remarkably generous, fair-minded account of overcoming some of the biggest, and most intractable, obstacles ever deployed by southern racists. (Photographs—not seen.)
Pub Date: Nov. 1, 1992
ISBN: 0-374-17563-2
Page Count: 192
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 1, 1992
Necessarily swift and adumbrative as well as inclusive, focused, and graceful.
A light-speed tour of (mostly) Western poetry, from the 4,000-year-old Gilgamesh to the work of Australian poet Les Murray, who died in 2019.
In the latest entry in the publisher’s Little Histories series, Carey, an emeritus professor at Oxford whose books include What Good Are the Arts? and The Unexpected Professor: An Oxford Life in Books, offers a quick definition of poetry—“relates to language as music relates to noise. It is language made special”—before diving in to poetry’s vast history. In most chapters, the author deals with only a few writers, but as the narrative progresses, he finds himself forced to deal with far more than a handful. In his chapter on 20th-century political poets, for example, he talks about 14 writers in seven pages. Carey displays a determination to inform us about who the best poets were—and what their best poems were. The word “greatest” appears continually; Chaucer was “the greatest medieval English poet,” and Langston Hughes was “the greatest male poet” of the Harlem Renaissance. For readers who need a refresher—or suggestions for the nightstand—Carey provides the best-known names and the most celebrated poems, including Paradise Lost (about which the author has written extensively), “Kubla Khan,” “Ozymandias,” “The Charge of the Light Brigade,” Wordsworth and Coleridge’s Lyrical Ballads, which “changed the course of English poetry.” Carey explains some poetic technique (Hopkins’ “sprung rhythm”) and pauses occasionally to provide autobiographical tidbits—e.g., John Masefield, who wrote the famous “Sea Fever,” “hated the sea.” We learn, as well, about the sexuality of some poets (Auden was bisexual), and, especially later on, Carey discusses the demons that drove some of them, Robert Lowell and Sylvia Plath among them. Refreshingly, he includes many women in the volume—all the way back to Sappho—and has especially kind words for Marianne Moore and Elizabeth Bishop, who share a chapter.
Necessarily swift and adumbrative as well as inclusive, focused, and graceful.Pub Date: April 21, 2020
ISBN: 978-0-300-23222-6
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Yale Univ.
Review Posted Online: Feb. 8, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
© Copyright 2024 Kirkus Media LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Follow
Popular in this Genre
We can’t wait for you to join Kirkus!
It’s free and takes less than 10 seconds!
Already have an account? Log in.
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
Welcome Back!
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
bookshelf
