Lorraine Stott Maiden celebrates family bonds, hard work, and growing up in Appalachia from 1924 to 1942 in this autobiography that will have you yearning for yesterday. Throughout her childhood, Maiden’s family moved around Kentucky’s mining country to make ends meet. Even though life was tough, she remembers with fondness getting up in the morning to have breakfast with her daddy, who would tickle her and toss her in the air before leaving for work. The Great Depression would take a toll on the family, but this was during a time when someone’s struggle to succeed was their determining factor for failure or success. The government did not rescue the disadvantaged—at least not until Franklin D. Roosevelt and his New Deal came along. There were no evil intentions—only people struggling to find their own niche. Some succeeded, and some gave up. That was just part of growing up and trying to survive in Appalachia.

This remarkable memoir is “both one person’s extraordinary life story and a first-hand look at life in the mountains in a time that is fading from memory” (Kentucky Monthly). My family lived as far back in the hollers as it was possible to go in Bell County, Kentucky. Dad worked in the timber woods and at a sawmill, when there was employment to be found. We ate what we grew on the place or could glean from the hillsides. Just about everything was made by hand. We had little contact with people outside the region . . . Sidney Saylor Farr grew up in the mountains of southeastern Kentucky, the eldest of ten children. Her devotion to her family led her to accept heavy responsibilities from a very young age: At three, she remembers being put in charge of her baby sister while her parents worked in the corn field, and at twelve, she was forced to leave school to care for her ailing mother and younger siblings. Though she didn’t have much time to pursue her own goals, life in the mountains nourished and shaped Farr and the writer she would become. Her great-grandmother was a master storyteller, and stories passed down from generation to generation fueled her imagination. Her Aunt Dellie, a voracious reader, received discarded books from the Pineville library, and as she shared these volumes with young Sidney, she opened the world to her eager niece. Eventually, Farr’s intense determination compelled her to find her own path and gave her the strength to become one of the most influential figures in Appalachian literature. Living in Appalachia was difficult—many people of Farr’s generation left the mountains for good—but she persisted through countless challenges, including poverty, discrimination, and personal loss, and managed to thrive. Composed of a rich mix of folklore, family history, and spiritual and intellectual exploration, Farr’s memoir shares the stories of her struggles and triumphs to create a vivid picture of a culture as enduring as the mountains. Winner of the Appalachian Book of the Year Award

Much criticism has been directed at negative stereotypes of Appalachia perpetuated by movies, television shows, and news media. Books, on the other hand, often draw enthusiastic praise for their celebration of the simplicity and authenticity of the Appalachian region. Dear Appalachia: Readers, Identity, and Popular Fiction since 1878 employs the innovative new strategy of examining fan mail, reviews, and readers’ geographic affiliations to understand how readers have imagined the region and what purposes these imagined geographies have served for them. As Emily Satterwhite traces the changing visions of Appalachia across the decades, from the Gilded Age (1865–1895) to the present, she finds that every generation has produced an audience hungry for a romantic version of Appalachia. According to Satterwhite, best-selling fiction has portrayed Appalachia as a distinctive place apart from the mainstream United States, has offered cosmopolitan white readers a sense of identity and community, and has engendered feelings of national and cultural pride. Thanks in part to readers’ faith in authors as authentic representatives of the regions they write about, Satterwhite argues, regional fiction often plays a role in creating and affirming regional identity. By mapping the geographic locations of fans, Dear Appalachia demonstrates that mobile white readers in particular, including regional elites, have idealized Appalachia as rooted, static, and protected from commercial society in order to reassure themselves that there remains an “authentic” America untouched by global currents. Investigating texts such as John Fox Jr.’s The Trail of the Lonesome Pine (1908), Harriette Arnow’s The Dollmaker (1954), James Dickey’s Deliverance (1970), and Charles Frazier’s Cold Mountain (1997), Dear Appalachia moves beyond traditional studies of regional fiction to document the functions of these narratives in the lives of readers, revealing not only what people have thought about Appalachia, but why.

Various authors examine and dispute the stereotypes of Appalachia.

To be from Appalachia--to be at home there and to love it passionately--informs the narratives of each of the sixteen storytellers featured in this work. Their stories are rich in the lore of the past, deeply influenced by family, especially their grandparents, and the ancient mountains they saw every day of their lives as they were growing up.