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360 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1998
“Who told men that women want them to be heroes?” Maude said. “Not their mothers.”
Burning limbs were rolling across the fields now, bouncing and leaping and turning and dropping all around us. Sparks were landing. Small flames ignited on the chicken coop. An apple tree hissed and exploded into furry grey smoke. The wind was so loud you couldn't tell if you were hearing it or not. It was nearly as dark as night. Every fence post was on fire, like candles marking out the borders of the fields. The cows were bawling, running back and forth not knowing where to go, tails high with runny manure flying behind them, trampling Mother's garden into a chopped-up terrible mess.
I wondered what effect this movie would have upon future accounts of the War's survivors and the Fire of '22. Was this the “true” story we were witnessing in this world of popcorn and rustling candy wrappers? Would it become the true story, erasing from our memories the versions we'd heard a thousand times from those who'd been there and from those whose parents had been there? Had we been honoured and celebrated and immortalized by celluloid, or had something been stolen from us that we would never get back?