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Original Essays | June 20, 2014

Lauren Owen: IMG The Other Vampire



It's a wild and thundery night. Inside a ramshackle old manor house, a beautiful young girl lies asleep in bed. At the window, a figure watches... Continue »
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Sweeping Up Glass

by

Sweeping Up Glass Cover

ISBN13: 9780385343039
ISBN10: 0385343035
Condition: Worn Condition or Underlined
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Excerpt

Chapter One

The long howl of a wolf rolls over me like a toothache. Higher up, shots ring out, the echoes stretching away till theyre not quite heard but more remembered.

Theres nobody on this strip of mountain now but me and Ida, and my grandson, Willm. While I love the boy more than life, Idas a hole in another sock. She lives in the tar paper shack in back of our place, and in spite of this being the coldest winter recorded in Kentucky, shes standing out there now, wrapped in a blanket, quoting scripture and swearing like a lumberjack. Her white hairs ratted up like a wild womans.

Im Idas child. That makes her my maam, and my pap was Tate Harker. I wish he were here instead of buried by the outhouse.

Whoevers shooting the wolves is trespassing.

“Ill be out with the boy for a while,” I tell Ida.

Ive brought her a boiled egg, bread and butter, a wedge of apple wrapped in cloth, and a mug of hot tea. She follows me inside and sits on her cot. Idas face is yellowed from years of smoke, her lips gone thin, and her neck is like a turkeys wattle. Although theres a clean nightgown folded on a crate by her bed, she hasnt gotten out of this one for almost three weeks.

Pap once told me that when he first met Ida, she was pretty and full of fire. She rode her donkey all over creation, preaching streets of gold over the short road to hell. She still calls daily on the Lord to deliver her from drunkards and thieves and the likes of me. Last summer, she sent off for Bibles in seven languages, then never opened the boxes. Its dark in Idas shack, and thick with liniment and old age smells. Maybe its the sagging cartons, still unpacked, although my Saul moved her here a dozen years ago. Then he died, too.

“I cant eat apples with these false teeth,” she says.

“Willm saved it for you.”

“Pleases you, dont it, me stuck in this pigsty while you and the boy live like royalty.”

Royalty is a cold-water kitchen behind the grocery store. Willm sleeps in an alcove next to the woodstove. I take the bedroom. Here in the cabin, Ive tried to better Idas life, bring a table, hang a curtain, but she says no, shell be crossin soon.

“Ill be out with the boy for a while,” I repeat.

“Ill ask God to forgive your sins, Olivia.”

Idas not the only thing that sets my teeth on edge. I worry about the way folks come for groceries but have no money. Most of the time, they take what they need. Willm and I write everything down, and they pay as they can—sometimes in yams or yellow onions, a setting hen when the debt gets too high.

If Pap was here, hed tell me everything was going to be all right.

“Hurry up if youre going with me,” I tell Willm.

Damn fools errand. I put on my big wool cape and mittens. I have Sauls rifle.

Willm brings the toboggan from the barn. Hes wearing a pair of old boots and so many shirts that he looks like a pile of laundry. I can barely make out his dark grey eyes through the round holes in his wool cap. I know what hes thinking, just like Pap used to—some injured thing might need his care.

Ill be forty-two next year—too old and thick-legged to plow uphill through snow that makes my hips ache. I should be home in my kitchen, warming beans from last nights supper. Behind me, Willm pulls the toboggan by its rope. We havent gone far before my fingers are froze, my toes are numb, and I realize Ive misjudged the light. Where the snow lays smooth and clean, we stop to get our breath. Its darker up here among the alders and pine. I set the lantern on the toboggan, strike a match, and lay the flame to the wick.

Below, to the left, lights blink on in Aurora, and a car or two winks along in the slush.

“Another shot!” Willm says. “Gran?”

I hate it when he looks to me like that, like I can fix every damn thing in Pope County. “Willm, this winter theyll starve to death anyway.”

But I dont mean that, and he knows it. Shortly the hunters will go home to their dining rooms where theyll drink rye whiskey and eat hot suppers. Past the alder line, the last of the silver-faced wolves are curling up, hungry. Theyre the only wolves recorded in Kentucky, and tonight a few more are dead.

In a clearing, we come upon the two males. Willm stares at the round dark holes in their flanks. Their right ears are gone. A small gray female has crawled off under the brush, and she lies there, baring her teeth. Shes been shot, too, and her ear cut away. The blood has run from the wound, filling her eye and matting her fur. Theres no sign of the ears.

These arent just any wolves. The silver-faces have lived peaceably on Big Foley for sixty-five years. Then a week ago, a male was shot and his ear cut off. Willm and I found the wolf, and finished him off. Today, the hunter was back, and he brought others.

“Damn,” I say. “This ones had pups, winter pups.”

“Dont shoot her,” he says.

“Theres lead in her haunch, and shes near bled to death.”

“Well take her home.”

What Im really thinking is—I know who did this.

“Back off from her, boy.” I lay the gun to my shoulder. “Halfway down, wed have a dead wolf on our hands.”

Willm says, “But shes not dead yet.”

Confound this child. I ache with the cold. More snow is likely, and when it comes, itll cover our tracks and the sheer rock faces. It would be right to put a clean shot between her eyes. But also between her eyes is that fine silver stripe.

I wonder if Willms likening himself to the cubs. Times coming when Ill have to tell him about Pauline, although hes never asked. He hasnt yet learned that all Gods creatures got to fend for themselves, and the devil takes the hindmost.

“Well, give me your scarf, boy. Well muzzle her good and tie her on the toboggan.”

“I could sit with her,” he says, grinning.

“You could not. Youll walk behind and keep your eyes open. Now do as I say, or well leave her here.”

“Yesm.”

“And theres not Gods chance shes sleepin in the four-poster, or under it, either. And if theres no change by morning, Im putting her down.”

Its tricky without a rope. I pull, Willm steadies. More than once the wolf slides off, and we stop to rearrange, and trade places. God love me, every day I understand myself less. Im so tired that the wolf and the boy and Ida run together in my mind till I cant think whos who, or which needs me most.

What Our Readers Are Saying

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Average customer rating based on 3 comments:

RenRabWoman, January 2, 2011 (view all comments by RenRabWoman)
It's been almost a year since I read this book, but I'm still telling people to get it. I convinced our public library to add it to their shelves. It's an excellent "coming-of-age" type story, but the person who is learning about life is the grandmother.
Fiction should enlighten fact. This book does that and has made me think of the fantasies interwoven into the facts of my own life. It's not an easy read for those of us who grew up in the 1960's, but it is worth the effort.
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renaissancerabbitry, November 18, 2009 (view all comments by renaissancerabbitry)
Wow! I read the fantastic claims on the cover, never expected to call them understatements. The critic for The Boston Globe compared this novel to "To Kill A Mockingbird". Well, he is wrong, this book pulls you into the story much better than that.

Maybe it's the fact that this book is a "coming of age" story about a grandmother. Some of us have epiphanies as teens, but some of the larger life changes happen after we think we have already grown up. This book leads to that type of change.

"...I'm equally to blame. ...It's not that I pretended - I just didn't see." What powerful words. What a moving book!
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Liza, August 13, 2009 (view all comments by Liza)
This debut novel is the story of improverished people in rural Appalachia during the 1930's. It is the life story of Olivia Harker--hardworking and poor. She idolizes her father, adores her grandson, loves her friends, is wary of her daughter, protective of the wolves that roam her property and hates her mom. This book is entrenched in southern tradition and it evokes Harper Lee's TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD. Enthralling.
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(1 of 1 readers found this comment helpful)
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Product Details

ISBN:
9780385343039
Author:
Wall, Carolyn D.
Publisher:
Delta
Author:
Carolyn Wall
Author:
Carolyn Wall
Subject:
Mystery & Detective - Women Sleuths
Subject:
Historical - General
Subject:
Mothers and daughters
Subject:
Depressions
Subject:
Mystery fiction
Subject:
General Fiction
Subject:
Mystery-A to Z
Copyright:
Edition Description:
Trade paper
Publication Date:
20090831
Binding:
TRADE PAPER
Grade Level:
General/trade
Language:
English
Pages:
336
Dimensions:
8.00x5.18x.72 in. .54 lbs.

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» Fiction and Poetry » Literature » A to Z
» Fiction and Poetry » Mystery » A to Z

Sweeping Up Glass Used Trade Paper
0 stars - 0 reviews
$3.50 In Stock
Product details 336 pages Delta - English 9780385343039 Reviews:
"Review" by , "Wall gives her heroine a powerful voice in this haunting debut."
"Review" by , "This is a perfect little book, like a head-on collision between Flannery O'Connor and Harper Lee, with a bit of Faulkner on a mystery binge. I loved every page of it."
"Review" by , "This debut novel does so much more than traditional, tightly focused mysteries. It has a powerfully, sometimes uncomfortably, realized setting; characters who seem drawn from life; and a wide-ranging plot, bursting with complications...A gripping story and a truly original voice."
"Review" by , "Haunting, lyrical, entirely absorbing, Sweeping Up Glass deserves a place on the shelf next to classics like True Grit and To Kill a Mockingbird."
"Review" by , "Carolyn D. Wall has created an engaging character in Olivia Harker and a complex and densely interconnected community in Aurora, Kentucky. Her evocative prose recalls the regional style of such authors as Flannery O'Connor, Harper Lee, and Eudora Welty."
"Synopsis" by , Someone is hunting wolves behind the grocery where Olivia ekes out a living; soon she and her grandson become prey as well. Olivia must encounter her own uncomfortable past to save herself and the boy, in this stunning debut set in Depression-era Kentucky.
"Synopsis" by , Destined to be a classic, Sweeping Up Glass is a tough and tender novel of love, race, and justice, and a ferocious, unflinching look at the power of family.

Olivia Harker Cross owns a strip of mountain in Pope County, Kentucky, a land where whites and blacks eke out a living in separate, tattered kingdoms and where silver-faced wolves howl in the night. But someone is killing the wolves of Big Foley Mountain-and Olivia is beginning to realize how much of her own bitter history shes never understood: Her mothers madness, building toward a fiery crescendo. Her daughters flight to California, leaving her to raise Willm, her beloved grandson. And most of all, her towns fear, for Olivia has real and dangerous enemies.

Now this proud, lonely woman will face her mother and daughter, her neighbors and the wolf hunters of Big Foley Mountain. And when she does, shell ignite a conflict that will embroil an entire community-and change her own life in the most astonishing of ways.

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