Mary Beth Hamilton’s In Search of the Blues (Basic Books, 2005) formed an enduring influence on my own thinking about the Delta, and more broadly I admire the work of Ted Gioia, John Jeremiah Sullivan, and Elijah Wald in helping me understand the culture, history, and music of the Delta.
I thank Aida Levy-Hussen for pointing me to illuminating sources for over a decade and for her own penetrating work, How to Read African American Literature (New York University Press, 2016). Her work has pushed me to understand the place of slavery in the American imagination and brilliantly articulated the projects of writers in the post–Civil Rights era. On Richard Wright’s development, I consulted Michel Fabre’s The Unfinished Quest of Richard Wright (University of Illinois Press, 1973) and Lawrence Jackson’s The Indignant Generation (Princeton University Press, 2010). Robert Stepto’s From Behind the Veil (University of Illinois Press, 1979) explores the relationship between African American narrative and literacy.
The Arkansas History Commission, in particular Tim Schultz, has provided microfilm of Arkansas newspapers. On desegregation and De Soto, I turned to Helena newspapers. For advertisements of slavery, I looked at Southern Shield. For a portrait of black life in Arkansas, I looked at The Miller Spectator. Thanks to Kevin Schultz for generously sharing materials on James Baldwin.
I have changed names of most people in this book to protect their privacy. No person in this book is a composite. I thank the patience and generosity of people in the Delta who shared their experiences and answered my endless questions. Those who have stayed, locals and interlopers alike, I view with admiration and esteem.
In one of his letters, Patrick quotes his favorite lines from Mary Oliver’s poem “Mysteries, Yes” (Beacon, 2009). Here is the poem in full:
Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous to be understood.
How grass can be nourishing in the mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds
will never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.
Let me keep my distance, always, from those who think they have the answers.
Let me keep company always with those who say “Look!” and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads.
For my mother and father,
Hwa-Mei Lin Kuo and Ming-Shang Kuo,
with love and gratitude
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
* * *
IT HAS TAKEN ME A long time to finish this book and I have incurred many debts while writing it. I first thank Patrick for trusting me to write this story and sharing so much of himself with me. I’ve learned from his insights, stories, and faith, and I am grateful for all the years we have known each other. I hope readers will encounter his extraordinary qualities as I have. I am deeply grateful to Patrick for giving me permission to share his words and writings in this book, and I honor his generosity with contributions to the Boys and Girls Club of Phillips County and a fund for his advancement. I thank also Patrick’s family for sharing their stories with me. And I thank my students at Stars for the sensitivity, intelligence, and humor they brought to class and to my life.
Aida Levy-Hussen, Tim and Liz Schuringa, and Kathy Huang encouraged me to write, and I owe them profound thanks. Aida Levy-Hussen has read basically every word I’ve written for over a decade now; probably the earliest version of this writing began in email correspondence with her. Her fierce intellect, passionate and independent mind, generous friendship, humane imagination, and penetrating scholarship have shaped this project and formed a lasting impact on me. I’m indebted to Aida in ways I cannot measure. I thank as well the irreplaceable Tim and Liz Schuringa, the sort of people whom everybody dreams of having as friends. Since I met them in Arkansas, their kindness, wry humor, gentle temperament, home-cooked meals, and searching conversations have sustained me. I always measure the warmth of my home with theirs in mind. Thanks to Tim for his discerning comments on my writing for all these years, and hugs for Max and Owen. And I thank deeply Kathy Huang, my jie jie and a force of nature. For as long as I’ve known her, Kathy’s grit, fearlessness, humor, courage in confronting life, and desire to live with integrity have inspired and emboldened me; I can’t imagine a world in which I don’t look up to her.
Deepest thanks to the home team, Kristin Naragon Gainey, Monica Castillo, Jennifer Leath, Sae Takada, and Rachel Rutishauser. Kristin Gainey’s support and love are unfaltering and heroic. It’s not a surprise that everyone I know turns to her for guidance and compassion. Monica Castillo’s irrepressible humor, loyalty, and gentle wisdom have given me delight and comfort over the years. I treasure her friendship. Jen’s passion and joy are infectious, and I can’t think of a time when her presence hasn’t generated intense laughter. I thank Sae for her wise encouragement; she is the steadiest of friends, and I am grateful to know her. And I thank Rachel for her uplifting spirit, indefatigable and seemingly unconditional empathy (let’s keep testing it!), and glorious cooking.
Dror Ladin provided critical support, reading early and late drafts, and I’ve depended on his insight for a decade. Conversations with Dror give me the kind of joy and pride that comes with knowing truly amazing people and being able to claim them as your friends; it’s hard not to be in awe of his clear mind, pursuit of justice, and capacity to leaven any situation with wit. Thanks, Dror, and with love to the warm and thoughtful Jenny Bress. I thank Julia Chuang, who provided much light and relief as I tried to write and guidance on drafts at crucial stages. Discovering Julia was one of the happiest things to happen in the past few years of my life, and I’m constantly marveling at her mixture of soul and analytical virtuosity.