“Not even a chapter into the book and I could feel it in my bones I was gonna love this one.”
“These are characters like those who transformed the south in the last thirty years and it was a good read to journey along with them.”
“Whistling Past the Graveyard made me laugh and put a lump in my throat more than once. I found it to be charming, powerful, and superbly written. Get your hands on a copy.”
My Grandmother said she prays for me every day. Which was funny, because I'd only ever heard Mamie pray, "Dear Lord, give me strength." That sure sounded like a prayer for herself...
No. No. I was nothin'. And I'd been bad. But I paid. Paid and paid before Wallace save me.
Our upstairs is hot as the hinges of Hades... I kinda hoped when Mamie got home late this afternoon, she'd find me passed out from heatstroke.
The colored don't choose to live here. It's where they're allowed to live.
I was horrible thirsty, but I didn't take it; Mamie had made it clear: no matter even if we're about to expire from thirstiness, we don't drink after negras.
Remeber when we was bakin', and what I say about overworked crust? You and me, we done pushed our luck 'bout as far as a body dare. We overworked crust.
Publisher: Gallery Books
Category: Fiction, Historical Fiction
Release Date: 01/01/1970
Format: Hardcover, Paperback, eBook
Pages: 320ISBN: 978-1476707723
Copyright © 2013 Susan Crandall