Synopses & Reviews
Chapter One
To be perfectly honest, the day my father Michael died really wasn't the worst day of my life.
Of course, it has panned out to be the worst, but at the time, it was just the last day in a week of one fun thing after another, all part of what I later learned was a carefully constructed plot to distract us children from the inevitable. Every night my brother Simon and my sister Missy and me were wined and dined by different friends and kin, making for a fast, hectic week that peaked on Saturday, when my best friend Kenneth's Uncle Lou, who is full-blooded Italian (like Kenneth wishes he was) and very sympathetic to Daddy's plight, took Kenneth and me to Busch Gardens as he works for Anheuser-Busch and gets free tickets.
We left early that morning, before five, and got there just as the gates opened, and had a heck of a time except that I puked on the Scorpion, or just after. We'd eaten breakfast at the IHOP outside the park and I must have eaten one chocolate-chip pancake too many, for I got sick as a dog on the first loop, but was man enough to hold my bile till I made it to the bathroom. Other than that, we had a big time. Uncle Lou even bought each of us a copy of the picture they take when you come in the park that Daddy always said was such a rip-off (fifteen bucks) though maybe he (Uncle Lou, that is) got an employee discount.
In any case, I have the picture on my nightstand to this day and have to say that yes, I look quite the happy boy, not a clue in the world that my father was lying on his deathbed four hundred miles away fighting for his last breath. Just me and that idiot Kenneth grinning like possums, Uncle Lou between us, his arms draped looselyaround our necks, very Italian and all, like a good-natured mafioso with his two favorite Godsons.
By the time we started home, it was nearly dark, all the little tourist towns along US 19 decorated for Christmas, each with its own enticement: mermaids and alligator farms and manatee crossings. We even stopped at some of them as Uncle Lou is divorced and kind of lonely, and all the billboards had these well-matured women in bikinis urging you to drop by. At least, I think that's why we stopped. It was too dark to see much at any of them, and as the gray December evening gave way to a cold, clear night, I began to get a little antsy with how late it was getting, and Daddy being sick at home.
It must have been something like two o'clock in the morning by then, not the perfect time for a call home, but I didn't pause for a second because for one thing, with Daddy so sick, our household routine had become hopelessly upended, and for another: my mother never sleeps anyway. I mean, hardly ever. It's one of her strange old vampire things that we'd all grown used to, never gave a second thought to knocking on her bedroom door at midnight, or calling home at odd hours of the night.
Sure enough, she answered on the second ring, not at all upset or sleepy,just her calm, matter-of-fact self, asking me where we were; if I'd had fun.
"Hey, Clayman," he said in his thin, kindly voice, for Daddy was the kind of old-school redneck who was constantly churning out terms of affection for the people he loved. He called Simon Sim or Simbo, called our sister Missy Mimi or Red (because of her red hair), and though I was technically named after my great-grandfather Clayton, he seldom (if ever) called me by my given name, but Claybird most of the time, along with Clayman and Big Man and all sorts of variations therein.
"Hey, Daddy," I replied, then I stood there at the counter and gave him a fasttravelogue of the day ...
Review
“Warm and affirming.” Kirkus Reviews
Review
“Thoroughly engaging ... Owens has beautifully and convincingly captured the lilting rhythms and cadences of a Southern childhood.” Boston Globe
Review
“A sumptuous, life-affirming treat.” Orlando Sentinel
Synopsis
When his beloved father, Michael, dies, Claybird Catts finds solace in the company of his close-knit family -- his mysterious and beautiful mother, Myra; his lovable, know-it-all sister, Missy; his newly grown-up brother, Simon; and his devoted grandmother, Cissie -- whose warmth and caring prove the only true constants in Clay's disrupted life. Devastated by his loss, but secure in their love, Claybird feels as though life could almost go on as usual in their small, sleepy, Southern hometown. Until his uncle Gabe comes back.
A stranger to Claybird, Uncle Gabe is a brilliant academic who went north twenty years ago and then all but disappeared. Despite the deep mystery that surrounds him, Gabe's humor and intellect shine, and he quickly positions himself in the role of the Catts family's savior. Soon he seems to fit right into the place left vacant by the death of Claybird's father. Gabe and Claybird become co-conspirators and best friends, until a slip of the tongue unveils the real history of their relationship, a heart-wrenching revelation that turns Claybird's world upside down.
The Schooling of Claybird Catts offers a rare wisdom about life, about the frail yet unbreakable bonds that form among family, and about the beauty and sorrow of everyday lives. A beguiling story told in the rich, Southern storytelling tradition, in an irresistible voice that sweeps the reader up from the first page and doesn't let go, this is the kind of novel to read again and again and to treasure forever.
About the Author
Janis Owens was born in Marianna, Florida, in 1960, the last child and only daughter of an Assembly of God preacher who later became a salesman for the Independent Life Insurance Company. As a child, she lived in Louisiana and Mississippi, but her heart and her literary roots can be traced to west Florida, to the old mill neighborhood where her mother was raised, that the old-timers call Magnolia Hill. A graduate of the University, of Florida, Ms. Owens lives in rural north Florida with her husband and three daughters.