My Aunt Darrelyn tells beautiful stories. She's my favorite writer & I adore her. She inspires me to nurture the writer within. And she makes the best book recommendations. When she told me about a local event, featuring author Silas House, I jumped at the chance to go. (You can read her guest posts for Writer's Digest here, including her wise advice to attend book events).
She recommended I start with his first novel, Clay's Quilt. Simply put, it's a story of the bonds of kin & home, set in the glorious mountains of Kentucky. I relate to the heartache & struggles of Clay, a young man who lost his mother Anneth when he was four years old. Anneth's character reminds me of my mom; her beautiful, adventurous spirit taken from her family far too soon.
I love a Southern accent. The spoken words flow like a friendly song. I suppose it stems from my love for my Louisiana family. I hear the voice of my momma when they speak to me. My boring voice longs to imitate each enunciation.
So I was happy just to hear Silas talk, enjoying his Kentucky accent. He introduced the story, explaining he writes to find answers to questions within himself. I had never put it into words myself, but it's the same reason I write. (It's why I often write about my mom or mother loss & my struggles with Endometriosis). He read from his latest novel, Eli the Good. There's nothing like hearing an author read his/her own words. His reading hooked me; it's going to the top of my everlasting to-read list.
After he spoke & answered a few questions, I anxiously got in line to meet him. I was compelled to ask if he had lost his mother at a young age, since his story eloquently described the pain of a bereaved child. He explained his uncle was murdered when Silas was a child, and he drew on those memories for Clay's character. He thought for a moment, then said his mother had lost her mother when she was nine years old. He'd always felt sorrow for his mother. His expression changed as I watched a realization occur to him--his grandmother's death had influenced Clay's character. He said it hadn't occurred to him until just that moment. I shared my loss with him & praised his depiction of mother loss. He signed my book & humbly thanked me for coming out to meet him.
When I got to my car, I carefully turned to the signed page to find these sweet words:
"For Jenny,
I'm glad this book is in good hands.
Yours,
Silas House"
