They said that in her youth, Annabelle had long, coal black hair, high cheekbones, and deep, penetrating, brown eyes. Her eyes could still penetrate the soul, but they were paler in color, maybe because they were covered with the whitish film of cataracts. I remember watching her take her hair from the neat bun she wore and let it down to comb. Her hair was long, but no longer black as coal. It was the color of newly formed storm clouds and fell in a silvery braid to her hips. I watched her comb it out and then she would braid it, wind it back into a bun and pin it low, just above the nape of her neck. Everyone always said that I favored her a lot. Annabelle was my great-grandmother; she was a Full Blood, a Choctaw Indian from Savannah, Georgia. When a child, I thought she was tall, larger than life. My admiration of her as we walked in the yard and I helped her gather eggs and pick flowers, was unsurpassable; but as I grew, I realized that she was a tiny woman. Shrunken from her many years on earth, she stood barely four feet, ten inches tall. In her older years, maybe even her younger ones too, she was never without a jar of Garrett snuff. One summer, when I was about twelve years old, I went to stay with my grandmother Annabelle. And because her house was so small, I slept in her bedroom with her. Each night before we went to sleep, she pulled a leather bound book from underneath her mattress and wrote for a few minutes before she extinguished the bedside lamp. She seemed intent on what she was doing so I did not bother her with questions, but after several nights, curiosity got the better of me and when she finished and placed the book under the mattress, I asked what she was writing in the book. She told me that she was writing her thoughts on the events of the day so that if she wanted she could look back and know exactly what she was thinking and how she felt that particular day. “Is that how you remember all of those stories you tell me, about when you were a child and about your kinfolks back then” I asked. “It is a part of it,” she replied, “but some things you just do not ever forget. They remain with you your entire life.” “Tell me a story, Grandmother,” I begged. “Tell me about when you were a child; a young girl like me.” She began her story that night, by telling me how she met and married my grandfather Jesse. She also told me about leaving her home and family in Savannah to move to Mobile to live near my grandfather’s family. And in that telling, I discovered that my grandmother had led a very interesting life, especially in her earlier years. Her life was filled with heartbreaks, heartaches, great times, and sad times. She attended Mardi Gras Balls and traveled extensively around the South. She was involved with an assortment of ill-fated lovers. Indulged in hoodoo, voodoo, even murder! Hers was a life I found extremely fascinating; a life, I wished I could live. That summer, I decided that when I grew old, I wanted to be just like my grandmother Annabelle. However, today, as I sat staring across the haphazard layer of hills to the west and thought of Annabelle and the olden days of grace and charm. I realized that those days were forever gone. They were days that I myself would never know, except through my grandmother’s eyes and memories. No longer that young inquisitive girl, I am an old woman now. On my own, I have lived a long uneventful life. Only through her stories could I live the life I dreamt of; therefore, I decided to share her story with the world. I am certain she would approve. I hope you all enjoy reading her story, as much as I enjoyed writing it. Her story began April 1865, at the end of the Civil War, as was told to me by my grandmother, Rebecca Annabelle Maples Foster.
This is a story about Rebecca Annabelle Maples Foster told by her grand-daughter who was also named Annabelle. This was a very interesting book. The great-grandmother kept a diary at the end of the Civil War in 1865 until just before she died. She was a full blooded Choctaw Indian, a beautiful woman. The grand-daughter would spend summers with her they lived in a small house so they slept together. Every night grandmother would pull her diary out from under her mattress and write in it. Her grand-daughter would always ask to tell her a story after she put her diary back. She would tell her stories about her life the wonderful times and the hardships that she had faced during her life time.
As a small girl Annabelle's grand-daughter dreamed of having a life just like her grandmother but times changed as Annabelle grew up.
Annabelle went back to stay with her grandmother who still lived in the same small house so she could learn more about her. It was sad that her grandmother died before she finish telling her story. Grandmother had told Annabelle about a trunk that had all kinds of Grandmother's treasures in it before her death. Annabelle found her trunk with her diary in it so she could finish writing her story. This is a short overview of the book. It has a very interesting plot, well written and more information than I have written here. I really enjoyed it.
I wish I could have gotten to know my grandparents or great grandparents the way the author got to know her Great Grandmother. Annabelle was a fascinating lady and it was wonderful to have a glimpse into that life. Thanks to the author for sharing it with us!
Annabelle's Diary made Miss Annabelle come alive before my very eyes. It is a reminder that some everyday people have had remarkable lives. We should always take a moment to listen. Wonderfully narrated, vivid characters, all in a concise, not a word wasted story. Makes you believe you were there listening. Well done MS Beckham!
this is about the trashiest book i have ever opened up. I did not reaf this one I got burned from the get go with the explicit sex explanatiions and I just felt the book was trash !!
Annabelle’s Diary is an historical fiction by Lila M. Beckham. It definitely reads like a true story with very realistic characters and definitely true events. Rebecca Annabelle Maples Foster was a full blood Choctaw in Savannah, Georgia in April, 1865. She and her sister were brought up on their father’s plantation and were well accepted into Southern society. Annabelle was always interested in helping her Father which would help her in the future. Her sister preferred to sit around and whine about not getting to be presented to society and whatever else came to her attention. Her parents took time to feed the men who were coming home from the war. Jesse was one of those men, although he was different. He did not accept a handout of food; but worked for it instead. He stayed for several years helping simply because he knew his help was needed and because he was falling for Annabelle. They married and then they finally went to Mobile, Alabama to see his folks. He had written that he had survived the war and would one day be home. Things didn’t work out well as Annabelle was widowed at an early age. Jesse was just the first of her husbands and Mobile was just the first of the places she traveled. The story is told through Annabelle’s eyes as told to her granddaughter just prior to her death. The interaction between Annabelle and her granddaughter is wonderful to read about. The book is very good and very difficult to put down. It shows what life was like in the South after the Civil War.
Annabelle has such a colorful life and I think that is lost in the writing format Beckham chooses. The diary never fully engages my attention because there isn't a clear antihero or a plot. I'm not attached to either of the characters because I'm not given any reason to be attached. This period in history and the family followed have so many adventures. So much potential here and so disappointing. This could have been a great coming of age novel with a few tweaks.
Sadly, this book won't resonate with me tomorrow, even though I invested a few hours of my precious reading time with Annabelle.
My last complaint is minor compared to the others; this book really needs a better editor. There are conflicts in how quotation marks are used in conversations. There are verb tense issues and many grammatical mistakes and typos that I just cannot overlook. I'm sad when I have to give a book a poor review, but I can't recommend this book to anyone.
I was not sure whether the narrator was a device and it was all a fiction or whether it was an actual interview. Because of the stilted conversation, I decided it was a device. Nothing to pull you along to the end of her story. Some interesting historical observations about New Orleans society. I was very distracted by typographical errors, such as "lint" for Lent, and by irregularities in plural forms, such as "the Maple's" and worse the use of 's as the plural form of nouns or names. I read it to the end just to finish it. There is a historical note at the end regarding "early census terms" (mulatto, quadroon) which should be more correctly described as classifications that originated in slavery (particularly the women) and were actively used in society and as census terms (until 1930).
It was an interesting type short story, it lacked any real substance. You want to know more of the story, yet your getting a family tree. Anyone who's had a close relationship with a grandparent will relate to this story. For a woman who's had four husbands, you could have had four books. Nothing more frustrating then getting details that make you more curious, yet, suddenly the book ends. This is an easy book to read, it's such a short story of a long life.
I really wanted to give 1 and a half stars, but settled for 2. The story promised to be interesting from the very beginning, but quickly lost its luster. The sexual detail was too much. I do not believe a grandmother would share that with a grandchild-regardless of the child's age. It wasn't believable. I wanted more about the joys and hardships of her life during that time period. Disappointed.
Every family has a history. I wish I could have taken the time to listen to my own grandmother's stories and wrote them down like this. I loved this story. Couldn't quit reading!
The dialogue between the great granddaughter and greatgrandmother was difficult to get into at first. The hardships of life before and after the Civil War were well explained. The love between the two women was touching.
Interesting that life as a woman has not changed much. As they work hard,and had real life experience,personal and intimate and we're willing to share. Thank you, it was described beautifully.
I am from Cajun/Creole/French descent, so I devour books like this one. It did contain several typos, though, and I'm not sure I'm crazy about the way it is narrated.
Don't miss this, your life will be enriched by the bond between these women and the history is brought to life in such a way you'll want to read it all at once, yet you'll savor every word. I hope you visit, you won't regret it.
Would have been a sweet book about relationships between daughters, mothers, grandmothers and great-grandmothers if there weren't so many sex scenes. It really surprised me and spoiled the book for me.
I choose this rating because some of the parts moved slow and I would put it down for awhile and have to go back and re-read a few previous pages to remember what was taking place