“I must say if you haven’t read Whistling Past The Graveyard by Susan Crandall, you’re missing something gooood… It’s like eating a good meal at your granny’s and then sitting out on the porch to watch the sun go down. Beautiful work.”
“Congratulations to Susan Crandall for stepping outside the genres she has mastered–and built a following in as an author–to tell this beautiful story.”
“I can’t say enough how much I love this book and how deeply it touched me… I want to read the book again right now because I enjoyed it that much.”
Bookreporter.com Focus Group Reader
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