Neema Avashia on being Indian, queer, and Appalachian

Jocelyn Nicole Johnson talks about 'My Monticello'

Night in the Burned House

In my old bedroom, in this house now my Aunt A’s, walls mottle grey into black, char hiding that this room was ever painted purple in a hope that someone would guess, would know. Burning night, my hidden journals blown across the field—and my aunt, gathering boughs for wreaths, found…

Pushcart Prize Nominees Announced

Appalachian Heritage is proud to announce its 2015 Pushcart Prize nominees: Wiley Cash: “When You Say ‘Home'” (Fiction, Spring issue) Lucien Darjeun Meadows: “Night in the Burned House” (Poem, Fall issue) Beth Newberry: “The Curve of the Smoke” (CNF, Fall issue) Natalie Sypolt: “Stalking the White Deer” (Fiction, Spring issue)…

Memorate

The field. Light. Morning. Then, my father, uncle. Apples, everywhere. In boxes, in palms, in teeth. Apples, everywhere. The black mare. Wild. The black mare that dawned from the mountain. Wild. The rough sketches of my earliest memory. My father places me on the back of the beast & we…

Jean Ritchie (1922-2015)

I first met Jean Ritchie about seventy years ago at Brasstown, North Carolina, where I grew up and where her sisters Mae and Edna were at the John C. Campbell Folk School. Just a few years later, as a foreign-lander-soldier, I found a copy of Singing Family of the Cumberlands…

Summer 2015 Editor’s Note

During their panel discussion titled “Voice Lessons” at the 2015 Appalachian Studies Association Conference, writers and teachers Darnell Arnoult, Karen Salyer McElmurray, Amanda Jo Runyon, and Jessie van Eerden offered their thoughts on voice in creative writing. They talked of the vital voices that have shaped their work over the…

Hateful

my Granny said, her pleated velvet cheeks aquiver as we watched the battered Fords and coal trucks splatter gravel from the road above the porch. That’s one thing I can’t abide. I don’t remember who it was or what he did that made my Granny spit his name like chaw…

Interview: Jessie van Eerden

Jessie van Eerden’s speaking voice is gentle, inviting, smooth as a creek stone. She’s reading of prayers, of a woman wearing a black slip and smoking Pall Malls, of the “cloud of witnesses” from St. Paul’s Epistle to the Hebrews, and her listeners are entranced, transported far from this dull…