The Power Of The Porch

In ways that are highly individual, says Harris, yet still within a shared oral tradition, Zora Neale Hurston, Gloria Naylor, and Randall Kenan skillfully use storytelling techniques to define their audiences, reach out and draw them in, and fill them with anticipation. Considering how such dynamics come into play in Hurston's Mules and Men, Naylor's Mama Day, and Kenan's Let the Dead Bury Their Dead, Harris shows how the "power of the porch" resides in readers as well, who, in giving themselves over to a story, confer it on the writer. Against this background of give and take, anticipation and fulfillment, Harris considers Zora Neale Hurston's special challenges as a black woman writer in the thirties, and how her various roles as an anthropologist, folklorist, and novelist intermingle in her work. In Gloria Naylor's writing, Harris finds particularly satisfying themes and characters. A New York native, Naylor came to a knowledge of the South through her parents and during her stay on the Sea Islands she wrote Mama Day. A southerner by birth, Randall Kenan is particularly adept in getting his readers to accept aspects of African American culture that their rational minds might have wanted to reject. Although Kenan is set apart from Hurston and Naylor by his alliances with a new generation of writers intent upon broaching certain taboo subjects (in his case gay life in small southern towns), Kenan's Tims Creek is as rife with the otherworldly and the fantastic as Hurston's New Orleans and Naylor's Willow Springs.

“This quiet novel sings. A graceful profound story for all ages that speaks well beyond its intended audience.” —Kirkus (starred review) Fans of Newbery Medal winner Sharon Creech's Ruby Holler will love this tween novel about opening your heart and finding family when you least expect it. When a young couple finds a boy asleep on their porch, their lives take a surprising turn. Unable to speak, the boy, Jacob, can't explain his history. All John and Marta know is that they have been chosen to care for him. And as their connection and friendship with Jacob grow, they embrace his exuberant spirit and talents. The three of them blossom into an unlikely family and begin to see the world in brand-new ways.

"There is something spooky and resonant about liminal places like docks, shorelines, decks, and perhaps most commonly porches. Here, Charlie Hailey meditates on porches in a way that is appropriately thoughtful, affecting, rich, and resonant. Porches, in his hands, become portals onto an endless array of large metaphysical questions: what is it to be in a place? How does one place teach us about the world and about ourselves, both as individuals and as a species? What are we-and the things we have built-in this world? In a time when questions of what makes society society and what sustains the individual are so paramount, Hailey's meditations are both a tonic and a series of welcome provocations"--

"An on-the-ground history of ordinary Americans who took to the streets when political issues became personal. It is widely believed that Americans of the 1970s and '80s were exhausted by the upheavals of the '60s and eager to retreat to the private realm. When they did take action, it was mainly to express their disillusionment with government by supporting the right. In fact, as Michael Stewart Foley shows, neither of these assumptions is correct. On the community level, the 1970s and '80s saw vibrant new forms of political activity emerge. Tenants challenged landlords, farmers practiced civil disobedience to protect their land, and laid-off workers asserted a right to own their idled factories. Activists fought to defend the traditional family or to expand the rights of women, while entire towns organized to protest the toxic sludge in their basements. In all these arenas, Americans were propelled by their own experiences into the public sphere. Disregarding conventional ideas of "left" and "right," they turned to political action when they perceived an immediate threat to the safety and security of their families, homes, or dreams. Front Porch Politics is a people's history told through on-the-ground experiences. Recalling crusades famous and forgotten, Foley shows how Americans followed their outrage into the streets. Their distinctive style of visceral, local, and highly personal activism remains a vital resource for the renewal of American democracy"--

In the evening the residents of Church Street gather on Miss Ida's porch to share memories and hear stories about events in the past, events significant to them as black people.

Time. Solomon is running out of it. A broken and forgotten man fighting the demons of dementia, he longs for the past when both he and his beloved military town of Ginger Ridge once thrived. When his stooped body collides with the hardened realities of the present, Solomon lies in a coma as an unidentifiable victim of a hit-and-run accident in a faraway city. With nothing to keep him going but flashbacks of relationships from his past, Solomon has no idea what a difference he will make on the future ...

"At 3:55 pm, I believed there was a Heaven-at 4:15 pm I knew." This is the story of one man’s struggle to be alive again after an accident claims the life of his friend and nearly his own. After spending a few moments on Heaven’s front porch with God, he is thrust back into his old life. In the months that follow, he struggles to find purpose and meaning in the day to day activities of life. In his quest, he uncovers five principles necessary to move him from just living again...to being fully alive! This inspirational story will grab your attention and hold it to the end as it teaches you foundational principles to living a life fulfilled.

In the twenty years since this book was first published, our nation's communities - from urban centers to rural and small communities dotting our landscape - have had their foundations rocked to the core. Yet, despite the economic, social, and cultural challenges they have experienced, communities all across our country are showing their resilience by reinventing themselves. This is especially true for many of rural and small communities whose persistence and self-determination show the same creativity, the same grit, the same shared values that brought them into existence. One of the ways these communities are doing this is by engaging in community making through the arts. The arts invite us to tell our story and listen to the story of others. As we work together and celebrate our community creativity, the arts bring people of all ages, genders, races, religions, and economic backgrounds together for the common good of reconnecting with each other and celebrating who we are as individuals and communities. Community arts provide a new gathering place, a cultural and spiritual touchstone that is a source of community revitalization and neighborhood revival. I believe our rural and small communities are creating the map our nation is searching for that will help us navigate the challenges awaiting all of us as we work together rebuilding the front porch of America.

An old hound that has been chained up at his hateful owner's run-down shack, and two kittens born underneath the house, endure separation, danger, and many other tribulations in their quest to be reunited and free.

New Yorker James Baldwin once declared that a black man can look at a map of the United States, contemplate the area south of the Mason-Dixon Line, and thus scare himself to death. In The Scary Mason-Dixon Line, renowned literary scholar Trudier Harris explores why black writers, whether born in Mississippi, New York, or elsewhere, have consistently both loved and hated the South. Harris explains that for these authors the South represents not so much a place or even a culture as a rite of passage. Not one of them can consider himself or herself a true African American writer without confronting the idea of the South in a decisive way. Harris considers native-born black southerners Raymond Andrews, Ernest J. Gaines, Edward P. Jones, Tayari Jones, Yusef Komunyakaa, Randall Kenan, and Phyllis Alesia Perry, and nonsouthern writers James Baldwin, Sherley Anne Williams, and Octavia E. Butler. The works Harris examines date from Baldwin's Blues for Mr. Charlie (1964) to Edward P. Jones's The Known World (2003). By including Komunyakaa's poems and Baldwin's play, as well as male and female authors, Harris demonstrates that the writers' preoccupation with the South cuts across lines of genre and gender. Whether their writings focus on slavery, migration from the South to the North, or violence on southern soil, and whether they celebrate the triumph of black southern heritage over repression or castigate the South for its treatment of blacks, these authors cannot escape the call of the South. Indeed, Harris asserts that creative engagement with the South represents a defining characteristic of African American writing. A singular work by one of the foremost literary scholars writing today, The Scary Mason-Dixon Line superbly demonstrates how history and memory continue to figure powerfully in African American literary creativity.