I have always loved reading biographies: we only get one life, but through stories of others’ lives we get to absorb into our own imagination their experiences and what they learned, or didn’t, from them. Having written poetry since childhood, I have long been an observer of myself and those around me, with a great curiosity about how people live and what motivates them. I’ve come to see that, no matter what genre I’m writing in, I’m driven to understand the connection between identity and place–for me, in particular, women in the southern U.S., and how each of us makes meaning out of the materials at hand.
I wrote
Odyssey of a Wandering Mind: The Strange Tale of Sara Mayfield, Author
This book was on the bedside table at a friend’s house where I was staying. I picked it up, started it, and stayed up much later than I had planned!
I was so engaged with the idea of an eighteenth-century woman who began making these botanical paper cut-outs and achieved attention for her work in late life, and I was drawn along by Peacock’s clear, lyrical prose and how she wove in aspects of her own life as a poet.
I loved Mary Delaney’s creativity, spirit, and grit, and she now feels to me like a friend from 250 years ago.
Mary Delany was seventy-two years old when she noticed a petal drop from a geranium. In a flash of inspiration, she picked up her scissors and cut out a paper replica of the petal, inventing the art of collage. It was the summer of 1772, in England. During the next ten years she completed nearly a thousand cut-paper botanicals (which she called mosaicks) so accurate that botanists still refer to them. Poet-biographer Molly Peacock uses close-ups of these brilliant collages in The Paper Garden to track the extraordinary life of Delany, friend of Swift, Handel, Hogarth, and even Queen Charlotte…
When I was in college, I asked my parents for the two-volume, compact edition of the Oxford English Dictionary for Christmas one year. I was in a Friday afternoon etymology discussion group that the philosophy professor in charge of it had named “The Society of Harmless Drudges,” and the OED was our bible.
Many years later, reading this book, I was astonished at the many years and many contributors that went into the making of the original edition. One of the most unusual contributors, as Winchester explores, lived in a mental institution after having been judged criminally insane.
The Professor and the Madman is an extraordinary tale of madness, genius, and the incredible obsessions of two remarkable men that led to the making of the Oxford English Dictionary—and literary history.
The making of the OED was one of the most ambitious projects ever undertaken. As definitions were collected, the overseeing committee, led by Professor James Murray, was stunned to discover that one man, Dr. W. C. Minor, had submitted more than ten thousand. But their surprise would pale in comparison to what they were about to discover when the committee insisted on…
I fell in love with Ireland on a trip there in 2003 and have been there many times since. As a result, I have read many books by Irish writers, including O’Faolain’s memoirs.
I picked up the story of the woman known as Chicago May with no expectations but was immediately drawn in by the way O’Faolain connected her life with May’s, and individual history with national—both Irish and American—history.
I admire how the author imbued a biographical investigation with the pacing of a novel and a larger-than-life main character.
A portrait of the legendary woman outlaw describes her childhood in post-famine Ireland, work as a confidence trickster and grifter in America, love affair with a big-league criminal, successful robbery of Paris's American Express, imprisonment, and later years. By the author of Are You Somebody? 75,000 first printing.
I moved to Tuscaloosa, Alabama for graduate school in 1986, eleven years after this book was published, thirteen years after Nate Shaw’s death.
Reading the life of a man whose parents had been enslaved, a cotton farmer and sharecropper who bravely joined a union and stood up for other Black farmers, opened my eyes to the reality of life in the twentieth century for Black farmers in the state I now called home.
Told in expert storyteller Nate Shaw’s (a pseudonym for Ned Cobb) voice, based on interview transcripts, the book introduced me to a person and a way of life unlike anything I had encountered growing up in the city of Little Rock, Arkansas.
Nate Shaw's father was born under slavery. Nate Shaw was born into a bondage that was only a little gentler. At the age of nine, he was picking cotton for thirty-five cents an hour. At the age of forty-seven, he faced down a crowd of white deputies who had come to confiscate a neighbor's crop. His defiance cost him twelve years in prison. This triumphant autobiography, assembled from the eighty-four-year-old Shaw's oral reminiscences, is the plain-spoken story of an “over-average” man who witnessed wrenching changes in the lives of Southern black people—and whose unassuming courage helped bring those changes about.
I’ve been intrigued all my life by the women on my mother’s side of my family who were artists and writers. How did I fit into that familial line, and what could I learn from them?
Honor Moore’s investigation into her artist grandmother’s life drew me into her own examination of that question, and I was deeply moved by her mission of reviving her beautiful, brilliant grandmother’s reputation as an artist while offering an honest assessment of how societal pressures affected her mental health and problems with alcohol abuse.
Margarett Sargent was an icon of avant-garde art in the 1920s. In an evocative weave of biography and memoir, her granddaughter unearths for the first time the life of a spirited and gifted woman committed at all costs to self-expression.
This book is the true story of a woman who grew up with Zelda Sayre (the future Mrs. Scott Fitzgerald), had tea with Virginia Woolf, covered the formation of the United Nations as a journalist, received a patent while involuntarily committed to a mental institution (she was a patient there for seventeen years), and in the last fifteen years of her life published two biographies, about the Fitzgeralds and H.L. and Sara Haardt Mencken, and a novel about Mona Lisa.
Drawing on years of extensive research in Sara Mayfield’s papers, this is the first full-length biography of an extraordinary woman who suffered from mental illness but, through writing, art, music, and humor, found a way to live an incredibly varied, rich life.
I come by my interest in history and the years before, during, and after the Second World War honestly. For one thing, both my father and my father-in-law served as pilots in the war, my father a P-38 pilot in North Africa and my father-in-law a B-17 bomber pilot in England. Their histories connect me with a period I think we can still almost reach with our fingertips and one that has had a momentous impact on our lives today. I have taken that interest and passion to discover and write true life stories of the war—focusing on the untold and unheard stories often of the “Average Joe.”
October 24, 1944, is not a day of national remembrance. Yet, more Americans serving in World War II perished on that day than on any other single day of the war.
The narrative of No Average Day proceeds hour by hour and incident by incident while focusing its attention on ordinary individuals—clerks, radio operators, cooks, sailors, machinist mates, riflemen, and pilots and their air crews. All were men who chose to serve their country and soon found themselves in a terrifying and otherworldly place.
No Average Day reveals the vastness of the war as it reaches past the beaches in…
October 24, 1944, is not a day of national remembrance. Yet, more Americans serving in World War II perished on that day than on December 7, 1941, when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, or on June 6, 1944, when the Allies stormed the beaches of Normandy, or on any other single day of the war. In its telling of the events of October 24, No Average Day proceeds hour by hour and incident by incident. The book begins with Army Private First-Class Paul Miller's pre-dawn demise in the Sendai #6B Japanese prisoner of war camp. It concludes with the death…
