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2 pages, Audio CD
Published February 28, 2017
LizBetty "Possum" Porter is trying to get her life back to normal, but there is not (nor will there ever be) a normal for her.
"Around here, when folks die, people cook."
There are plenty of busy-bodies (or "Crows" as Possum calls them) who keep inviting themselves over to "support" her father, but Possum knows the truth.
"I knew Momma, most of all, would expect me to smarten back to usual in no unhuried way, even if the crack in my heart would never heal."
And soon Possum finds herself shipped off to school.
They were all-fired fixed on telling Daddy what to do. And not just what to do, but what to do with me! "Mister Porter, that child needs proper schooling."
But on the other hand, her mother deeply distrusted the nearby schools and taught everything herself to Possum.
"At the ripe age of elevin-goin'-on-crazy - all questions and no answers."
Out of respect for her mother, Possum decides school is not for her.
"School would just wash Momma's teaching from my mind and heart like a washboard worries at a stain."
Ultimately - I liked this book...although it was near incomprehensible at times. Hilarious, but incomprehensible.
"I couldn't see no way out of going to school, but I was already fixin' to figure out how not to stay there. Sure as shirttails, I'd be back home before Teacher or those flappy Crows could do anything else to pull me and Daddy apart."
To explain - this book is set in the butter my biscuits south.
"Twitchy Miz Pickerel flapped like a jitter jack."
The southern idioms and grammatically incorrect sentences were fun and endearing at first... but the more those appeared, the more I just wanted to get to the point.
"...the biddies were, as usual, ruffling the air with their words."
I think it's hard to convey the truly obscene level of idioms and metaphors present in this book. But there were a lot. Like a lot, a lot.
"I did not want one more freckle to fall off my knee for fifty years. At least."
And others just completely pulled at my heartstrings.
"Her lips, cracked and prunie, shaped a small, tight O that made me think of a chicken butt."
The way such a short and unconventional sentence conveys the truly huge amount of grief young Possum experiences.
"Bird-songing and bug-buzzing must have been about, yet I couldn't hear but a howling wind."