“Reading Lee Smith ranks among the great pleasures of American fiction . . . Gives evidence again of the grace and insight that distinguish her work.” —Robert Stone, author of Death of the Black-Haired Girl It’s 1936 when orphaned thirteen-year-old Evalina Toussaint is admitted to Highland Hospital, a mental institution in Asheville, North Carolina, known for its innovative treatments for nervous disorders and addictions. Taken under the wing of the hospital’s most notable patient, Zelda Fitzgerald, Evalina witnesses cascading events that lead up to the tragic fire of 1948 that killed nine women in a locked ward, Zelda among them. Author Lee Smith has created, through a seamless blending of fiction and fact, a mesmerizing novel about a world apart--in which art and madness are luminously intertwined.
"The best novel so far by a writer whose growth has been steady and sure . . . . [Oral History] tells the story of the Cantrell family and the odd curse that its members believe to have hung over them. It is a tale that begins in the late 19th century with Granny Younger, the midwife, and continues well into the 20th century through several generations of Cantrells; it is also a tale deeply rooted in the folk culture of the Appalachians, a tale that in the best tradition of folklore contains 'story upon story.'" -- The Washington Post Book World "A novel as dark, winding, complicated as the hill country itself. . . You could make comparisons to Faulkner and Carson McCullers, to The Sound and the Fury, As I Lay Dying, and Wuthering Heights. You could employ all those familiar ringing terms of praise: 'rare,' 'brilliant,' 'unforgettable.' But Lee Smith and Oral History make you wish all those phrases were fresh and new, that all those comparisons had never before been made. For this is a novel deserving of unique praise." -- The Village Voice "Deft and assured . . . She is clearly drunk on the language of Appalachia, on its stories and its people . . . . She is nothing less than masterly." -- The New York Times Book Review
"A tour de force." LOS ANGELES TIMES Ivy Rowe may not have much education, but her thoughts are classic, and her experiences are fascinating. Born near the turn of the century in the Virginia Mountains, Ivy's story is told completely through letters she is forever writing, and that you will forever want to read.... "Few readers will be dry-eyed as they watch this extraordinary woman disappear around that last bend in the road." CHICAGO TRIBUNE
On a beautiful June day in 1965, a dozen girls-classmates at a picturesque Blue Ridge women's college-launched their homemade raft (inspired by Huck Finn's) on a trip down the Mississippi. It's Girls A-Go-Go Down the Mississippi read the headline in the Paducah, Kentucky, paper. Thirty-five years later, four of those "girls" reunite to cruise the river again. This time it's on the luxury steamboat, The Belle of Natchez, and there's no publicity. This time, when they reach New Orleans, they'll give the river the ashes of a fifth rafter-beautiful Margaret ("Baby") Ballou. Revered for her powerful female characters, here Lee Smith tells a brilliantly authoritative story of how college pals who grew up in an era when they were still called "girls" have negotiated life as "women." Harriet Holding is a hesitant teacher who has never married (she can't explain why, even to herself). Courtney Gray struggles to step away from her Southern Living-style life. Catherine Wilson, a sculptor, is suffocating in her happy third marriage. Anna Todd is a world-famous romance novelist escaping her own tragedies through her fiction. And finally there is Baby, the girl they come to bury-along with their memories of her rebellions and betrayals. THE LAST GIRLS is wonderful reading. It's also wonderfully revealing of women's lives-of the idea of romance, of the relevance of past to present, of memory and desire.
Investigative journalist Lee Smith uses his unprecedented access to Congressman Devin Nunes, former head of the House Intelligence Committee, to expose the deep state operation against the president -- and the American people. Investigative journalist Lee Smith's The Plot Against the Presidenttells the story of how Congressman Devin Nunes uncovered the operation to bring down the commander-in-chief. While popular opinion holds that Russia subverted democratic processes during the 2016 elections, the real damage was done not by Moscow or any other foreign actor. Rather, this was a slow-moving coup engineered by a coterie of the American elite, the "deep state," targeting not only the president, but also the rest of the country. The plot officially began July 31, 2016 with the counterintelligence investigation that the FBI opened to probe Russian infiltration of Donald Trump's presidential campaign. But the bureau never followed any Russians. In fact, it was an operation to sabotage Trump, the candidate, then president-elect, and finally the presidency. The conspirators included political operatives, law enforcement and intelligence officials, and the press. The plot was uncovered by Nunes, chairman of the House Intelligence Committee, and his investigative team. They understood that the target of the operation wasn't just Trump, but rather the institutions that sustain our republic. A country where operatives use the intelligence and security services to protect their privileges by spying on Americans, coordinating with the press, and using extra-constitutional means to undermine an election then undo a presidency is more like the third world than the republic envisioned by the founding fathers. Without Nunes and his team, the plot against the president -- and against the country -- never would have been revealed. Told from the perspective of Nunes and his crack investigators -- men and women who banded together to do the right thing at a crucial moment for our democracy -- the story of the biggest political scandal in a generation reads like a great detective novel, feels like a classic cowboy movie. The congressman from the cattle capital of California really did fight corruption in Washington. Devin Nunes took on the "deep state."
They never meant to come to Earth. They were never allowed to leave...Welcome to Cottonwood.Excerpt:"You should have heard it, Kate. It was subtle, but it wasn't my imagination. The guy spent five hours essentially telling us that the aliens are retarded.""Oh come on.""Not in so many words, but--hang on." Sarah moved the paz to her other hand so that she could lay her right arm over Fagin's back, since he was being insistent about it. "But he just really drilled it in," she continued, resigned. "Over and over, really soft and gentle. 'They're not smart, they don't take care of themselves, they need to be controlled.'"Kate's tiny image on the screen flickered as she shifted her own paz and had trouble restabilizing. The two weren't exactly compatible anymore. She really needed to get a new one. "So? Maybe they do.""And maybe they don't. Kate!" she said, trying to laugh through her frustration. "These people came to us in a spaceship! A planet full of stupid layabouts does not master intergalactic space travel!"Kate's image flickered again and snapped to black. She didn't need it. She could hear the distraction in Kate's voice, and the tight I'm-pretending-I'm-not-angry tone that had been her default setting pretty much since Sarah told her she was really moving to Cottonwood. "Okay, so the guy who's been studying them for twenty years is wrong and Sarah Fowler, who hasn't even met one yet, is right. Congratulations. You're that good."Sarah felt herself blush. "It didn't sound right, that's all I'm saying. Some of the little things he said just...just really got to me.""Like what?" Kate asked, sounding concerned now and not big-sister patronizing."Like...Like he said that if their claspers came off, they'd die."A short pause. "What are claspers?""Oh, that's not the point, they're like tiny little extra arms that smell things. The point is, how many aliens had to lose their claspers and die without having any other...What's the word I want? Variables?"Kate was quiet for a while. The picture tried to come back a few times, showing Sarah glimpses of her sister through a haze of multi-colored distortion. "These guys are professionals, Sarah. It's their job to make connections that people like us miss.""Yeah, but how did so many aliens lose their claspers in the first place, that's what I really want to--""Did your house come with a phone?""Huh? Um, yeah." She twisted to look up at it, clinging to the wall like a shiny, black beetle. "But it's patched into the IBI switchboard. I can't figure out how to get a line outside the village. I could look it up in the manual, but--" She laughed. "--I'm kind of manualed-out. I had to set everything, you have no idea. All the faucets are TruTouch. Who the heck even knows off-hand how many degrees they like their shower? Or their drinking water? Plus, I got my Fahrenheit and my Celsius screwed up and practically steamed-cooked my face off the first time I...Why?" She checked the paz's signal, but it looked good. "Can't you hear me okay?""I hear you. I was just curious. So this is your own paz?""Yeah," said Sarah, still trying to see where this was going. "But they scanned it in through the company server when I got here. You know. So I can't take pictures or blog about company policy or stuff. They said it wouldn't affect my performance. I mean, I can barely see you, but--""That's normal for the fossil you're using," Kate agreed. In a new, hearty voice, she added, "TruTouch faucets, those are awesome!"
“A memoir that shines with a bright spirit, a generous heart and an entertaining knack for celebrating absurdity.”—The New York Times Book Review “This is Smith at her finest.”—Library Journal, starred review Set deep in the mountains of Virginia, the Grundy of Lee Smith’s youth was a place of coal miners, tent revivals, mountain music, drive-in theaters, and her daddy’s dimestore. When she was sent off to college to gain some “culture,” she understood that perhaps the richest culture she would ever know was the one she was leaving. Lee Smith’s fiction has always lived and breathed with the rhythms and people of the Appalachian South. But never before has she written her own story. Dimestore’s fifteen essays are crushingly honest, wise and perceptive, and superbly entertaining. Together, they create an inspiring story of the birth of a writer and a poignant look at a way of life that has all but vanished.
When Sybill Hess drives over to the hypnotist’s office, she hopes he can cure her of the headaches interrupting her sleep the way her friend Betty once saw a woman on TV cure a woman’s stammer. But what Dr. Diamond uncovers from Sybill’s subconscious goes much deeper than her nervousness over a new tenant who seems to want a date. A shocking memory from Sybill’s past threatens to upend everything she thinks she knows about herself and her family. But is it even real?
A NEW YORK TIMES NOTABLE BOOK “Extremely powerful…Me and My Baby View the Eclipse is about striving and the secret nobility of people who live in a small-town American South. In these stories—thank heaven—not everything fits: they are loose, they are sometimes awkward, but just about every one shines with revelation and awe in the face of momentary greatness and tragedy.…Nearly every one of these stories could move a reader to tears, for in almost every one of them there is a moment of vision, or love, or unclothed wonder that transforms something plain into something transcendent.”—The New York Times Book Review “Remarkable…Lee Smith is a Southern storyteller in the very best tradition, combining an unmistakable voice with an infallible sense of story.… Her craft is so strong it becomes transparent, and, like the best storytellers, she knows how to get out of the way so the story can tell itself.”—San Francisco Chronicle “From its wonderful title to its final sentence, this book brims with the poetry of the South.”—Los Angeles Times Book Review “Marvelously entertaining…These are stories you want to read again to catch all the things you missed the first time around."—The Boston Globe
Lee Smith is a "teller of tales for tale tellers to admire and envy . . . [and] a reader’s dream" (Houston Chronicle). A celebrated and bestselling writer with a dozen novels under her name, including Fair and Tender Ladies, Oral History, and The Last Girls, she is just as widely recognized for her exceptional short stories. Here, in Mrs. Darcy and the Blue-Eyed Stranger, Smith collects seven brand-new stories along with seven of her favorites from three earlier collections. The result? A book of dazzling richness. As the New York Times Book Review put it, "In al- most every one of [her stories] there is a moment of vision, or love, or unclothed wonder that transforms something plain into something transcendent."
