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A Local Writing Group Offers Hope — and a Home

“Seven years of writing. Two years in the making. A lifetime in the living.”

That’s how Writing Our Way Home: A Group Journey Out of Homelessness is described:

For seven years, Door of Hope, the nonprofit organization in Midtown Memphis that serves the homeless with disabilities, has been conducting a weekly writing group;

It’s been two years since local author and Door of Hope volunteer Ellen Morris Prewitt, along with writing-group members, came up with a plan to publish a collection of the group’s writings;

And it’s a lifetime of living recorded in the pages of Writing Our Way Home — writings that describe what life was like before these 15 contributing writers became homeless; what life was like for them on the street; and what life’s been like since they secured housing.

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Saturday, September 20th, is the date of the book’s official launch at Caritas Village (2509 Harvard Ave.) from 1 to 2 p.m.

In a related event, called “Under One Roof,” there’s a fund-raiser on Saturday at Rhodes College to raise awareness and money for The Bridge. That’s the student-run newspaper launched in the spring of 2013. It features the stories of Memphis’ homeless, who are paid for their contributions and earn money as the paper’s vendors. According to the press release and in the words of Caroline Ponseti, a Rhodes senior and one of the newspaper’s founders: “A year later, we have put $45,000 directly into the hands of the homeless and have given sustainable income to over 250 people with experiences of homelessness, with our top vendors making $380-$540 per month.”

The Rhodes event, which includes remarks from community members, dinner, and an auction of work by artists with experience of homelessness, will take place in the McCallum Ballroom on the Rhodes campus from 5 to 8 p.m.

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Expect to see copies of Writing Our Way Home (which includes illustrations by Allison Furr-Lawyer and Jockluss Thomas Payne and photography by Cory Prewitt) at the Bridge fund-raiser. Many of the Bridge contributors have also participated in the Door of Hope writing group. And if those writing sessions have helped to change the lives of the once-homeless, it’s affected the lives of Prewitt, who founded the writing group in 2007, and Andrew Jacuzzi, Door of Hope’s executive director.

“It’s been a wonderful experience,” Prewitt said of the writing sessions, which are held on Wednesday afternoons at the Door of Hope offices on Bellevue. “I don’t think of the topic to write about ahead of time, so it’s a way of jump-starting our thinking. The topic’s announced, and everyone gets quiet. It’s a quiet time for me too. It’s given me practice in writing on the spot.

“When I went into this, I went as a writer and facilitator,” Prewitt added. “So long as people came, we’d meet, write, and, if anyone wanted, share what we’d written. From a program point of view, the group was a way of getting folks back into the community and a way of forming relationships. But it was not only a way for participants to express themselves. It was a way for people to listen.”

The book is a way for Memphians, citywide, to hear from this segment of the population.

“In November 2012, we got ‘intentional’ as far as a book is concerned,” Prewitt said. “The writing group gathered for a retreat at Germantown United Methodist Church to choose the entries we wanted to include and broke the writings down into who ‘we were before we were homeless; my experience being homeless; and who I am now.’”

Now that Prewitt is splitting her time between Memphis and New Orleans, where she has a home, some of her writing-group responsibilities have been taken over by clergy and staff from Germantown United Methodist — church members that Prewitt called not only Door of Hope’s benefactors but also its angels. One of those angels donated the money to publish Writing Our Way Home.

Andrew Jacuzzi, who has participated in the writing group many times, called his work with the homeless the last thing on his mind as a young professional. His mother may have told him that he’d make a good minister or preacher — or, Jacuzzi being Catholic, priest. Or maybe he’d make a good doctor.

But Jacuzzi (yes, that family name gave name to the product his father sold: jacuzzis) said he went about as far as you can get from the priesthood or from medicine: He went into advertising and marketing. A few years ago, though, he’d been laid off, and he was asked by the Door of Hope to act as a consultant on a project. The first writing group he observed really hit home. The topic: Write about a time when you were placed in a situation with an individual you felt like you had nothing in common with and how you found common ground.

Jacuzzi said he left that writing session in tears. He’s been executive director now for almost four years, and he’s seen what Door of Hope’s writing group has meant to members.

“Once you’re on the street, you’ve basically lost your identity,” Jacuzzi said. “People don’t want to see the homeless, so they avoid the homeless. Participating in the group has given them a voice, a place to tell their stories, express their thoughts. One gentleman said he’d been identified for most of his life as a substance abuser and criminal. His number in prison was his identity. Now he’s identified not only as a member of the writing group but as a published author. It’s changed his whole perception. It’s reconnected him with society.”

When Writing Our Way Home was on sale at the recent Cooper-Young Festival, contributors were connected to a larger society and even asked to sign copies of the book. “Their faces were beaming,” Jacuzzi said. “The book has given these authors a whole new sense of pride and belonging.”

The book, Jacuzzi added, will change readers’ attitudes too.

“I tell people that nobody grows up wanting to be homeless. And this book will change your perception of what homelessness is and who can be affected.

“We deal at Door of Hope with the chronically homeless (meaning, individuals who have been unsheltered for a year or longer), and they’re disabled, physically or mentally. It’s the most difficult segment of the homeless population to deal with. Our job is to get them housed, safe, with benefits and increased self-determination. The goal is for them to become healthy and productive members of society.”

Door of Hope, according to Jacuzzi, now has dozens of individuals in housing, but it helps hundreds more a year, with, on average, 4,500 meals served annually. But even Jacuzzi admitted he wasn’t sure, at first, that working with the homeless was exactly his “cup of tea.” He’d been in marketing. He’d never worked for a nonprofit. But he’s now fallen in love with the people he works with. He’s fallen in love with the services Door of Hope provides.

“And maybe my mom was right,” Jacuzzi added. “Here I am, after a career in advertising … ministering, providing care.”

The book launch for Writing Our Way Home is free and open to the public. Go to the Door of Hope website for further information and follow Door of Hope on Facebook. The book is also available at Amazon. Proceeds from the sale of the book are split evenly among the 15 contributors and Door of Hope. Contributors who sell individual copies keep that share of the profit for themselves.

Tickets to the “Under One Roof” fall fund-raiser at Rhodes can be purchased for $50 here. For more information, contact Caroline Ponseti at caroline@thememphisbridge.com. •

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Jim Bailey Signs The End of Healing

“Follow the money!”

That’s the advice Dr. Virgil Sampson gives his three students in the Health System Science Program at fictional Florence College. Those students gathered around Dr. Sampson’s seminar table are: a hotshot surgeon, a brilliant nurse practitioner, and Dr. Dante (“Don”) Newman, a very capable resident haunted by his past and unsure of his future. Should Dr. Newman continue his training at Boston’s prestigious University Hospital? Or will the months he spends guided by Dr. Sampson into health-care hell turn him into an advocate for medical reform?

Those are just a few of the questions in the novel The End of Healing by Dr. Jim Bailey, professor of medicine and preventive medicine at the University of Tennessee Health Science Center in Memphis, which makes Dr. Bailey as good a guide as Dr. Sampson to what’s wrong with U.S. health care. How wrong is it? Based on the evidence in The End of Healing, it’s enough to make you sick — and, if you’re not already, outraged.

The novel is designed in part as a seminar too, with research findings and teacher/student interactions on the pros and cons of a health-care system that often puts profits ahead of patients. And Bailey, in a recent email from Italy (where he conducts his own annual “Healthy City” program on contemporary health issues), was right when he characterized that system as an industry “spiraling out of control.” He was equally right when he promised readers that this story “will change your perspective on the U.S. medical system forever … and give you the insight you need to find real healing in today’s world.”

Bailey’s advice to readers seeking that healing for themselves, their families, and their country? “Follow young Dr. Don Newman.”

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Book Features Books

Tavis Smiley on the Death of a King

Tavis Smiley recalled it as a defining moment: the day he was given a set of LPs featuring the speeches of Martin Luther King Jr.

Smiley — national broadcaster, talk-show host, and author — was 12 years old when he received those recordings while he recuperated from the beatings he’d received from his stepfather. Growing up in small-town Indiana as a member of a large black family in a largely white community, Smiley hadn’t had King on his radar, but as Smiley said recently by phone from Los Angeles, King did more than change his life:

“He saved my life. He redirected me. In those speeches — in the reassurance of his voice — King talked about the power of love, how love was the only force capable of turning an enemy into a friend. Here I was trying to figure out my life, and I hear King talking about love. He was talking about a nation, but he might as well have been talking to me as a child. I was going to have to love my way through this situation. Hatred was not an option. I would have to love my enemies, love those who used and exploited me, and forgive those I was angry with — including my parents.”

Smiley’s heartfelt response was an answer to why his latest book, Death of a King (Little, Brown), perhaps means more to him than any of his previous books. It was a question asked in anticipation of Smiley’s two upcoming Memphis book signings. He’ll sign and discuss Death of a King on Friday, September 19th, at the Booksellers at Laurelwood at 1:30 p.m. and at the National Civil Rights Museum from 6 to 8 p.m.

It certainly won’t be Smiley’s first time in Memphis. He was here in April to celebrate the National Civil Rights Museum’s redesign (which Smiley said exceeded his expectations). And he certainly doesn’t claim that his Death of a King competes with the “heavy-lifting” of King biographers Taylor Branch, Clayborne Carson, and David Garrow.

What Smiley and his collaborator David Ritz (along with researcher Jared Hernandez) have here, though, is a dramatic retelling of King’s final and pivotal year. What kind of man had King become during those 12 months? That is the question at the heart of the book, and it opens on April 4, 1967, the day the life of Martin Luther King would undergo fundamental change. He was readying for his speech inside Riverside Church in Manhattan — a speech denouncing America’s involvement in Vietnam, the third component in the triple threat to American democracy as King saw it: racism, poverty, and militarism. There were additional, more personal challenges, too, not the least of which the dissension inside the ranks of the civil rights movement and the rise in black-power rhetoric. King’s gospel of nonviolence was losing ground.

“Everybody had turned on him: the White House, the media (including the black media), black organizations,” Smiley said of the difficult position King found himself in. “We may think we know King, but we don’t know him unless we too wrestle with what he endured” — and recognize the toll that the pressure and the tension took on King physically and mentally.

The subtitle of Smiley’s book is “The Real Story of Dr. Martin Luther’s King Jr.’s Final Year,” and that title, Smiley said, is “pushback” on the sanitized, sterilized image some may have of King. But the “real” King will come as no disappointment to readers. It came as no disappointment to Smiley himself:

“It is so rare to come across someone who truly is as advertised — King as truly who I thought he was. That was a beautiful realization for me. But that doesn’t mean King was perfect. He was a public servant, not a perfect servant. At the center of his working witness is this primary mission to love and serve others. He was the real deal.”

And by the time King heard of the sanitation workers’ strike in Memphis, he was given real hope — hope that he could build a bridge to the movement’s militants; hope that Memphis would direct national attention to the country’s poor of all races.

Death of a King comes with its author’s own hopes. “I’m hopeful that, of all my books, this will be the one that will empower the greatest number of people, will enlighten the greatest number, the book that years from now people will continue to refer to as the most accessible,” Smiley said. “Not the definitive book on King’s last year. That would be arrogant of me. But I want everyday people to understand the real story, the true story of Martin Luther King Jr., the man they maybe do not know.”

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Blurb Books

Stephen Schottenfeld: Counter Culture, Bluff City-Style

“You’re a pawnshop, Huddy. You’re supposed to be in a bad area.”

That’s Joe Marr, Huddy Marr’s successful builder/developer brother who lives in Germantown, doing the talking. Joe owns the building housing Huddy’s business, Bluff City Pawn.

“Pawnshop should be close to bad,” Huddy, who’s just trying to make a honest living, answers back. “Right on the edge of bad. Just a little ahead of bad.”

And that’s right where Bluff City Pawn is: out on Lamar, pretty close to bad. But the stores on either side of Bluff City are closing shop. A blood bank’s moving in. Bluff City’s about to get real close to bad. And that’s why Huddy Marr is looking to move the business, and he has his eye on Liberty — Liberty Pawn, on Summer.

“You must be the only person who drives down Summer and says, ‘Count me in,’” Joe later says to his brother. “Summer and Lamar, they’re both ghetto streets.”

“Summer is doing business with the whole city,” Huddy, who knows his stuff, says in response. “Don’t matter ghetto.”

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And maybe, business-wise, it doesn’t matter. What matters more in the new novel Bluff City Pawn (Bloomsbury) is family. And family starts to really matter when Huddy, Joe, and a younger brother named Harlan, back from Florida with nothing to his name (apart from a police record), enter into a deal.

Nothing fishy about that deal, nothing un-law-abiding about it. Huddy has been offered to buy a valuable gun collection off a rich widow in Germantown. Huddy, Joe, and Harlan stand to earn real money off the resale of those guns. But Huddy knows that it’s critical they do the deal right. He knows how ATF operates. More than ATF, he knows how his brothers operate. Which is why Huddy puts it this way going in: “As long as we don’t trust each other equally, we’re okay.”

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Until, after the deal’s done, they don’t trust each other equally. That’s when things in Bluff City Pawn go south. And no, this is not Memphis overlooking the Mighty Mississippi. It isn’t Memphis, home of the blues, birthplace of rock-and-roll. Beale Street might as well be a world away. This is Memphis as tourists don’t see it but as citizens day to day live it. It’s Memphians staying put despite the city’s leadership and hardships. It’s Memphians pulling up stakes to seek greener, safer pastures out east. It’s Memphis as only an insider could depict it. Except that this novel’s author, Stephen Schottenfeld, is no native son. He grew up in Westchester County, just north of New York City, and he got his MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop.

But before moving to the University of Rochester, where Schottenfeld now teaches, he was on the faculty at Rhodes College, and during his years there, 2003-2008, he got to know this town real well. He wrote a short story called “Stonewall and Jackson,” which appeared in New England Review in 2006. He wrote a novella set in Leahy’s Trailer Park called “Summer Avenue,” which appeared in The Gettysburg Review in 2010. For Bluff City Pawn, though, Schottenfeld knew he needed a wider field — a story with more possibilities, more points of tension.

So Schottenfeld got to know local pawnbrokers, local builders, local realtors, and even local garden-club members. He visited local gun shops, gun dealers, and gun shows. He talked to local ATF agents on the right way to write up a gun inventory, on how those agents conduct themselves. And Schottenfeld wanted especially, as he said in a phone interview from his home in Rochester, to thank all those good people who helped him in his research: “They were incredibly generous with their time.”

Schottenfeld’s literary agent, once he read the manuscript of Bluff City Pawn, was something else: puzzled.

“He expected, first of all, a Southern accent,” Schottenfeld said. “Then his next question was: ‘Did you grow up around a pawnshop or a lot of guns?’ I said: ‘No, I didn’t … at all.’”

What Schottenfeld did grow up blessed with is a fine ear for dialogue (he once worked in film postproduction in New York; he’s taught screenwriting in his classrooms), and Bluff City Pawn confirms it: No over-obvious Southernisms here; just the plain-spoken (verging on elliptical) give and take you’d expect to hear between a business owner and his customers (or brother to brother) and the more polished strains (and no less elliptical speech patterns) you’d be likely to hear among Germantown’s old-guard, horsey set.

Schottenfeld also has a real eye, not only on the broad canvas but down to the smallest, most telling matters. You want a tutorial in the right way to handle a pawnshop customer angling to sell a non-flat-screen TV? It’s here in Bluff City Pawn. The right way to lay out the merchandise so you’re not, when your back’s briefly turned, robbed blind? That’s here too. So too the smoothest way to earn the trust of a gracious widow and to skirt the superciliousness of her superannuated preppy son.

Call details such as these “texture.” Schottenfeld does, and it’s the product of this author’s almost journalistic attention to real-world verismo:

“I’m curious about people’s lives. I don’t have a great storehouse of autobiographical tales. I don’t tend to reach back into my own childhood. There is a journalistic impulse in me to get out there, do the fieldwork. And yet I’m not interested so much in nonfiction. As a writer, I’m interested in ‘texture,’ specificity of language, information. I’m interested in what people do. I want to observe it, understand it. And Memphis, at the time I wrote this book, was kind of perfect for me.

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“Before I moved to Memphis, I didn’t think of myself as a writer of ‘place.’ But my eyes and ears were opened when I was there. I was so interested in what people were saying, what people were doing around me. But when I realized I was going to be writing about pawnshops, yes, it was intimidating. I knew there couldn’t be any shortcuts. I was going to have to ‘negotiate’ this new space … write as a real insider. William Faulkner, Alice Munro, Daniel Woodrell: They’re steeped in place. They gain their authority through their years in those cities and towns they write of. But there are other writers who gain their understanding of place precisely because they’re not from it.”

But forget Memphis for a moment. Consider its big suburb to the east.

“Germantown was for me the ‘discovery’ of the book. I’d lived inside the city, in Memphis. I’d had my own feelings about Germantown. And, frankly, it didn’t interest me much. But I came back to Memphis a couple more times and came to, in some ways, appreciate the impulse to flee, like my character Joe. Some reviewers have talked about him as the villain of the book, and he may act in a villainous way. But I’m moved by his work ethic, how honest he’s been in so many ways. He just got caught up in a bad time.”

The bad time Schottenfeld is referring to is the recession of 2008, which threatens to ruin everything Joe’s worked so hard to achieve, and that includes a big house and garden and an upscale enclave of unsold houses he’s built in a development called Heritage Cove.

But what of Harlan, one part lost little boy, two parts real rascal?

“I’m sad for him,” Schottenfeld admitted. “He’s an unintimidated kind of guy. But what scares him are these memories he can’t reconcile — memories of his family when he was growing up: what wasn’t there for him; what wasn’t given to him.”

And as for Huddy Marr — Bluff City Pawn’s wonderfully drawn major character: Can’t question his street smarts and realistic view of the way the world runs. But can you also think of Huddy in terms about as un-Southern as can be: Samuel Beckett and Franz Kafka? Schottenfeld can:

“I may write in a social-realist vein. My work may be located in an actual place and not some blasted non-zone. But, like in Beckett, there are ways that Bluff City Pawn ‘gestures’ at feelings of being lost, of being estranged, of being caught in some zone where you’re not regarded, you’re not understood. And as in Kafka, there are moments in the book where Huddy is caught by forces — institutional forces, bureaucratic forces — inside a system that even he, at times, can’t decipher.”

Which brings us back to Beckett and his minimalist mode. Surprising to think, but there’s that too in Bluff City Pawn, which is as naturalistically told as any novel by Richard Ford or Russell Banks. Still …

“There’s something about a pawnshop that has a kind of elemental connection to what a story should be and can do,” Schottenfeld said.

“You’ve got two characters. You’ve got a counter separating them. Things are being pulled out, placed on the counter, individual pieces. I’m looking at that counter, those little bits.” •

Stephen Schottenfeld will be guest of the River City Writers Series at the University of Memphis on Tuesday, September 16th, when he will read from and sign Bluff City Pawn. The reading is inside the University Center’s Bluff Room (Room 304) and begins at 8 p.m. A student interview with Schottenfeld will take place the next morning in Patterson Hall, Room 448, at 10:30 a.m. For more on the River City Writers Series, go here.

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Blurb Books

Good Ideas This Week at the Booksellers

How’s this for a good idea? Pair a debut novelist, who is on a cross-country book tour, with better-known local writers to round out the bill at each tour stop. That’s the idea behind the event on Wednesday, September 10th, at 6:30 p.m. at The Booksellers at Laurelwood, which will be hosting out-of-towner Eric Shonkwiler and Memphians Tara Mae Mulroy and David Wesley Williams.

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You’ve heard of Southern gothic? Shonkwiler’s debut novel is called Above All Men, and it’s from MG Press, a “micro-press” and extension of the literary journal Midwestern Gothic. For an introduction to Shonkwiler’s work, check out Above All Men here, which includes a link to an excerpt.

Local fans of local poetry should recognize the name Tara Mae Mulroy. She earned her MFA in poetry from the University of Memphis, served as managing editor of The Pinch, the U of M’s literary journal, and today teaches Latin at St. George’s Independent School. That classical background plays a major part in Mulroy’s own work. She has one chapbook, titled Philomela, and based on a report earlier this year, she has a mythologically informed (and Philomela-inspired?) full-length manuscript, Swallow Tongue, ready to shop to publishers.

Readers of The Commercial Appeal should have no trouble recognizing the byline of David Williams, because he’s the CA’s sports editor. But he’s a novelist as well (Long Gone Daddies) and past winner of Memphis magazine’s annual short-story contest. And if Mulroy is shopping her latest collection of poems, Williams is hard-headedly shopping his latest novel, which is set in and around Memphis and West Memphis. As he wrote in a recent email:

“I’m still trying to get a publisher for it,” Williams said of his new novel. “A few publishers, mostly smaller houses, have it, although I wouldn’t say anything is anywhere close to happening. My agent search went nowhere. Damned hard business, but I’ve got a damned hard head!”

And this week, the Booksellers has another major event planned: The night after the readings and signings by Shonkwiler, Mulroy, and Williams, the store is hosting multiple-award-winning, young-adult-fiction icon Barbara Shoup. On Thursday, September 11th, at 6:30 p.m. Shoup will read from, discuss, and sign her latest novel, which is a coming-of-age search in 1964 for an earlier literary icon: Looking for Jack Kerouac (Lacewing Books).

But if you can’t make it to the Booksellers on Thursday, check out Shoup’s “creative process” blog entry for July 24th. It’s where she explains the background to her writing Looking for Jack Kerouac. As executive director of the Indiana Writers Center and co-author of Novel Ideas: Contemporary Authors Share the Creative Process and Story Matters: Contemporary Short Story Writers Share the Creative Process, Shoup knows her stuff — not the least of which, this “crazy thing to do, writing novels.” And another thing:

“It’s all about being able to recognize not just a good idea,” Shoup writes of the creative process, “but my good idea.” •

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The Constitution: “In Conversation”

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When it comes to U.S. Supreme Court decisions, it’s sometimes more useful to look to the losing side. That’s because dissent — the minority opinion — often ends up shaping future Supreme Court thinking and determining subsequent court cases in what amounts to an ongoing “constitutional conversation.”

In honor of Constitution Day 2014, welcome, then, the opening guest speaker in the annual “Communities in Conversation” lecture series at Rhodes College: Melvin I. Urofsky. Urofsky’s lecture, “Dissent & the Constitution,” is today, Monday, September 8th, inside Blount Auditorium of Rhodes’ Buckman Hall at 5 p.m.

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Urofsky, professor of history at Virginia Commonwealth University, has written extensively on the Supreme Court, its justices, and one justice (and famed dissenter) in particular: Louis D. Brandeis. He edited the multivolume Letters of Louis D. Brandeis and wrote the biography Louis D. Brandeis: A Life.

Melvin Urofsky’s lecture is free and open to the public, as are all the lectures in the “Communities in Conversation” series.

For more on this semester’s lineup of speakers — October 23rd: Michael Roth, president of Wesleyan University, on the value of a liberal arts education; November 13th: James LeSueur, of the University of Nebraska, on Algeria’s civil war in the 1990s — go to Facebook.com/Communities.in.Conversation or @Rhodes_CiC or contact Jonathan Judaken, the Spence L. Wilson Chair in Humanities at Rhodes, at judakenj@rhodes.edu. •

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News The Fly-By

Shelby County Schools Students Learn the Art of Debate

“I’ll tell you right now, I’ve seen students who really turned things around. It’s like a light comes on. They connect with learning. They say: ‘I may not run the hundred­yard dash or throw for a touchdown. But this is fun. This is my slam dunk.”‘

And that is how Dwight Fryer — executive director of the Shelby Debate Society in partnership with Shelby County Schools and the nonprofit Shelby Debate Commission (founded by Memphis businessman James Sdoia) — describes what he’s seen time and again: local public school students introduced to and benefiting from the countywide debate program for middle- and high-school students. It’s a program that this year will involve more than 250 young people from two dozen public schools and four charter schools.

These days, Fryer, a former corporate executive and author (his debut novel, The Legend of Quito Road, was nominated for an NAACP Image Award), is gearing up for this year’s debate season, which begins on the varsity level on September 20th at Overton High School. Tournament rounds continue throughout the academic year at other Shelby County Schools. The winning team then moves to the national tournament, sponsored by the National Association for Urban Debate Leagues, to compete against squads from 18 other cities. Local debate champions Marvin Wilkins Jr. and Alexis Thornton of Middle College High School and runner­ups Victoria Meeks and Jamila Miller, graduates of the Soulsville Charter School, represented Memphis in the nationals this past spring.

Marvin Wilkins Jr. and a debate opponent

Next April’s nationals take place at the University of Southern California, but this month Fryer is busy recruiting and training the Memphis coaches and judges who have volunteered their time and expertise with these goals in mind: encouraging students to develop their communication skills, reach their career objectives, and better serve the community.

Studies on the benefits of debate training are proving just how valuable it can be:

“Our debate students already outperform non­debaters in several key academic measures, including GPA, graduation rates, ACT scores, TCAP scores, and lower truancy rates,” Fryer said. “So we know that great students choose debate. We also believe that research will show that debate helps produce great students.”

That’s the idea behind EBA: evidence­based argumentation, a teaching method that brings debate principles into the everyday classroom. Carol Johnson, former school superintendent in Memphis, then Boston, is a strong supporter of EBA. Paul Deards, a teacher in New York City, is, too. His August 18th essay for Education Week argued for the benefits of debate training for all students. Among the skills required: critical thinking; sound argument; close listening; and team spirit — plus a value often overlooked in today’s climate of polarizing public opinion: empathy. Fryer calls that core value “being able to disagree without being disagreeable.”

One Memphis mother called debate something else: a means of helping her twin son and daughter think through the choices they make. According to Fryer:

“She had a set of twins in our debate league and wrote in an email, out of the blue: ‘They don’t even realize it, but I now see them weighing their decisions in ways they never used to.’ And isn’t that what we want all our young people to do?”

For more on the Shelby Debate Society, volunteer opportunities, and to give your financial support, go to shelbydebate.org. To learn about the urban debate league movement, go to urbandebate.org.

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Book Features Books

Jay Schoenberger’s Great Outdoors

Jay Schoenberger, who lives today in San Francisco, didn’t grow up hiking the Sierra Nevada. In grade school, then in high school at Memphis University School, he stayed closer to home: Shelby Farms, the Mississippi and Wolf rivers, east Arkansas, and north Mississippi.

As a student at Vanderbilt, he started mountaineering in East Tennessee. But after college (and before graduate school at Stanford), Schoenberger headed to Wyoming to participate in the National Outdoor Leadership School. It’s where he gained some solid wilderness training, and it’s where he realized his life’s work: preserving the natural environment. Inside his backpack during all these years was a loose-leaf stack of noteworthy wilderness writings meant to inspire and designed to share.

Jay Schoenberger

I Am Coyote: Readings for the Wild (foreword by Bill McKibben; illustrations by Peter Arkle) is Schoenberger’s collection of those scattered writings, and among the authors, you’ll find Henry David Thoreau, Herman Melville, John Darwin, Walt Whitman, Elizabeth Gilbert, Mark Twain, Robert Frost, and Edward Abbey. But there are surprises here as well: among them, Albert Camus, Fyodor Dostoevsky, and, from our own neck of the woods, Mississippi River guide John Ruskey.

Schoenberger, who works for a group that invests in wind energy development, calls I Am Coyote his “passion project.”

“I’ve been kicking the idea around for a while,” Schoenberger said. “And what really initiated the book was when I started going to outdoors shops looking to replace my loose collection of papers. But the books I found weren’t what I was looking for. I found books about male bravado, of proving yourself on adventures. Other books described the beauty of nature, but there was no compendium of the great wilderness writings — writings that friends and members of the outdoors community could take with them on their journeys. I could have compiled the works of John Muir or an anthology of the works of the transcendentalists, but nothing for this specific audience. So I did it myself.

“The book is not intended to be man-sees-mountain-and-climbs-it. It’s about not only nature and the variety to be found there but a lot of things that are related to the wilderness: reflection, meditation, and general awareness. But what resonates first and foremost throughout the book is a focus on people living vigorously and authentically — people deeply engrossed in the experience, immersed in it, grappling with all that that experience entails, including the joys and the struggles.”

The book is divided into five parts and consists of fiction and nonfiction, poetry and essays: from pieces that describe the excitement of setting out, to the awe and tranquility that nature inspires, to descriptions of the great outdoors at its most powerful and punishing, to nature as a means to self-discovery, to nature in need of preserving. Among the classics included, there’s “To Build a Fire” by Jack London, one of those stories, Schoenberger said, “you kind of remember forever” and a favorite among backpackers to read at the end of a long day.

But the piece in I Am Coyote perhaps closest to Schoenberger is Wallace Stegner’s powerful, eloquent argument for conservation, an essay Stegner presented to the Outdoor Recreation Resources Review Commission in 1960: “Wilderness Letter.” It’s a document Schoenberger first read when he was in Wyoming and one he always kept in his backpack. It’s also a landmark document, written in 1960, that was key to establishing the Wilderness Act, which has its 50th anniversary this year.

Schoenberger wants Memphians, especially, to look locally: to recognize — and respect — the nature preserves and wilderness around them. Shelby Farms, for example, he called “a treasure.” And the river at the city’s doorstep?

“A lot of people grow up thinking of the wilderness as the Rocky Mountains or Glacier National Park,” Schoenberger said. “But there’s a fantastic wilderness right in the middle of the country. When you’re out there on the Mississippi River, north or south of Memphis, it’s basically you and passing barges and tugboats and some guys fishing. It’s still pretty much wilderness, and that makes it a remarkable thing.”

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Courtney Miller Santo’s House of Secrets

No, don’t going looking for it — the peculiar house, overlooking the Mississippi River, that you think must have inspired Three Story House (Morrow) by Courtney Miller Santo.

“It doesn’t exist,” Santo, who earned her MFA at the University of Memphis and who teaches creative writing there today, explained. “But I knew I wanted to set the house on Memphis’ South Bluffs, so I just drove around, looking for a place. The spot is actually an empty lot, which made it every fiction writers dream: to think maybe it is a place.”

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Readers of Santo’s second novel — the first was The Roots of the Olive Tree — have good reason to think such a place does in fact exist, because the author has done such a scrupulous job describing it, but the house has certainly seen better days. When Three Story House opens, it’s set to be condemned, and it’s up to a national soccer star, Lizzie (who grew up in the house), and her cousins Isobel (from California) and Elyse (from Boston) to see to it that the house stays right where it is after getting a year’s worth of repairs.

The year is 2012, and these three 28-year-olds could use some personal repair work as well. Lizzie’s been sidelined from an Olympic-tryout tournament while recuperating from knee surgery. (And she still doesn’t know the answer to a family secret: the identity of her biological father.) Isobel, a former Hollywood tween star in a TV sit-com, is wondering about her own stalled acting career. (And what was the background to her parents’ failed marriage?) Elyse is mourning the loss of the love of her life. (And what’s worse: The guy is marrying Elyse’s younger sister.)

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Three major stories, then, drawn from one very extended family — the same extended family readers first met in The Roots of the Olive Tree and that readers meet again in Santo’s early short story, which is appended to Three Story House. That story fills us in on the Arkansas man and complicated family history that led him to build his three-story house on the South Bluffs in the 1920s.

The house was what’s known as a “spite house,” built, yes, out of spite and to inconvenience or irritate the owner’s half-brothers in Memphis, who have warehouses crowding what was the Tennessee Brewery on downtown’s Tennessee Street. Santo does more than focus on that one neighborhood, though. Her canvas in Three Story House is the whole city, and it’s a sight to see: Memphis in the hands of a novelist who didn’t grow up here, but she has nothing but good to say of her adoptive home.

Memphis a music town? Santo certainly wouldn’t disagree. But she sees it as more: a storyteller town, as she explained in a recent Q&A.

Spite houses … I’d never heard of the term until reading your book. They’re all over the country, and they’ve been an interest of yours for a long time.
Courtney Miller Santo: My interest started in college, 20 years ago, during a weekend trip to Alexandria, Virginia, where I saw the Hollensbury House. That house is the kind of thing that just lodges in your brain. Anything about spite houses I’d file away and think: I’m going to write about this eventually.

As writers, we’re fascinated by what goes on behind everything. You think about these strange houses and then think: grudges, family discord, the worst of human nature, which makes the best fiction.

“The Roots of the Olive Tree” came out only two years ago. Sounds like “Three Story House” was fairly easy for you to write.
It wasn’t easy at all! I basically rewrote Three Story House three times. Everyone says second novels are really hard, and they’re not lying.

You’ve dedicated the book this way: “For my twenty-nine cousins who somehow manage to be the least alike and most alike of any group of people I know.” Did you draw, then, from your own extended family for the characters in “Three Story House”?
I did not, but in that absence, I drew on what was going on in my life at the time. I just altered it. My daughter, for example, has been playing soccer for the last six years. I’ve spent a lot of time at the Mike Rose Soccer Complex watching little girls play. No way was I going to write this book and not have soccer in it. That part of the writer’s life bleeds naturally into one’s work.

But I’ve also been fascinating by stories about people who aren’t who they think they are. You go through life thinking you’re one person, and, turns out, you’re not that person at all. How does that knowledge change you?

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A major subplot in the novel concerns a crew from Los Angeles who arrive in Memphis to film Isobel, Lizzie, and Elyse reality-show style. Those scenes aren’t based on firsthand experience?
No, I just have a weird obsession with reality television, and my brother did work a little in Hollywood. He told me that those shows are, basically, all garbage. Though our family dream has been to get on America’s Funniest Home Videos, and this summer we did. My husband was trying to install this thing in our garage, and it fell down. The video’s just a minute or so.

From the details in “Three Story House,” you must be pretty familiar with older houses and renovating them, especially the setbacks and unexpected costs.
My father has never purchased a house that was new. Every house of his has been from, like, the 1910s, 1920s. So I spent my childhood helping my dad — using a putty knife, sheetrocking, crawling under the house, working on wiring.

So, when I was growing up, we were all roped into figuring out what the insides of a house looks like, which not a lot of people have done. We didn’t have the money to call in anyone, so you fix it yourself. I have vivid memories of knocking a big hole in a wall during a tantrum — plaster and lathe broken. I was told, okay, we’re going to fix that now. I had no idea how, but I learned real quick.

Reminds me of your character Isobel and her father, who arrives late in the novel.
That relationship is very much like my father and me. Plus, I have two sisters and a ton of cousins. The dynamics of those relationships: I know what it’s like to live really closely with others who are very much your own age. And they’re still a big part of my family. Cousin mania continues!

Both of your novels are perfect for book-club discussion. You must enjoy that added connection to readers.
I absolutely do. I love going to book clubs. With The Roots of the Olive Tree, I probably went to 30 clubs in the Mid-South and through Skype. I think book clubs are where so much of our nation’s intelligence and heart are, especially the women’s clubs. Every club I’ve been to is reading interesting, challenging books. So book clubs are alive and well. There’s smart conversation. And there’s food! There’s no down side. Plus, authors are so accessible now. It’s easy to get that direct connection to readers.

Do you have a third novel in the works?
I do. It’s now with my agent. And I’m still finding myself interested in the idea of place and houses. The new one has another special kind of house. And all of my books, I think, will trace the roots back to Anna, who’s in The Roots of the Olive Tree and who’s the great-great-grandmother in Three Story House, with characters in the new book all related. There’s just something about the way I learned to tell stories — sitting around the dinner table and everybody, no matter how they’re related, sharing stories.

Stories crowded with characters.
I’m one of seven siblings and have 29 cousins. I can’t imagine a world that’s not hyper populated.

You’ve done a great job capturing contemporary Memphis — its people, its neighborhoods, its seasons.
I was really excited to set this book in Memphis. The city has a reputation as a music town, but Memphis is really a story town. Music and writing: It’s the same well. It all comes from the place of storytelling. That ability to tell a story musically is the same well that authors draw from.

I’ve been in Memphis almost 10 years, and I feel like I can use the landscape now. It may not be an insider’s perspective, but that’s okay. The house in Three Story House is a little off too. •

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Elmwood To Revisit the “Saffron Scourge”

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Founded in 1852, Memphis’ Elmwood Cemetery (824 S. Dudley) certainly holds its share of Memphis history as the final resting place for more 75,000 individuals — among them, politicians, military leaders, civic leaders, and prominent citizens and their families.

Thousands of victims of the yellow fever epidemics that decimated the city in the 1870s are buried at Elmwood too, and on Tuesday, August 12th, the cemetery will be hosting “Tales from the Plague,” an evening featuring four authors who will discuss their studies of yellow fever in 19th-century Memphis. Those authors are:

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Annie Armour (A Yellow Fever Journal: Bishop T. Quintard’s Account 1878), Molly Caldwell Crosby (The American Plague: The Untold Story of Yellow Fever, the Epidemic That Shaped Our History), Jeanette Keith (Fever Season: The Story of a Terrifying Epidemic and the People Who Saved a City), and Patricia LaPointe MacFarland (From Saddlebags to Science: A Century of Health Care in Memphis, 1830-1930 and Memphis Medicine: A History of Science and Service).

“Tales from the Plague” is a fund-raiser for Elmwood (cost to attend is $25 per person), and you can register online at elmwoodcemetery.org. For more information, call 901-774-3212.

A reception for the authors will take place in the cemetery’s Lord’s Chapel at 5:30 p.m., with the panel discussion beginning at 5:45 p.m. Copies of Molly Caldwell Crosby’s The American Plague and Jeanette Keith’s Fever Season will also be on sale, with samples of the remaining titles available for audience members to view.

According Kimberly McCollum, Elmwood executive director, “Yellow fever so greatly changed Memphis that it’s hard to tell where its effects begin and end. It left an indelible impact on Memphis. The writers who are participating in this event will tell that story, and it’s a story everyone who lives here should know.”•