Early last month, I chose to launch my new collection of short stories, "The Harboring & other stories" in New York City, which has become an almost second home to me.
While my husband’s business has taken him to the city for many years, the last three years have become close to permanent for him to continue to grow and solidify his business. Reluctant at first to join him on a permanent basis, I’ve come to embrace the city more with every visit.
One reason I chose to launch my new release in the city was primarily due to the fact that I hoped to dispel some of the city inhabitants’ stereotypical views of Appalachians; instead, opening their eyes to our resiliency and perseverance and resolve. New Yorkers, generally speaking, firmly believe that they have a lock on those characteristics. They don’t. And as I talked with a number of New Yorkers I’ve met over the years we’ve spent in the city, I feel certain that I opened more than a few minds to take a closer look at what makes West Virginians shine with such brightness.
Everyone from shop owners and restauranteurs and booksellers and dry cleaners and florists and grocers not only welcomed my book, but embraced it, and found strength from the characters in each story, reveling at our commonalities more than our differences.
And at every turn, each conversation eventually led to West Virginia’s well-known good ole boy politics. They wanted to know why we continued to be exploited; why we refused to stop electing the same leaders who obviously had very little regard for the people; why we continue to accept that our education and health care and housing are placed on the lowest rungs of the ladder. And they too wondered at our acceptance at the mere suggestion of data centers and detention centers, while they too were unsettled by the development of these concerns.
What I found promising was their willingness to engage in discourse, without any hint of anger or judgment. That was the most refreshing part. And to think that it all came about because of a collection of short stories about the resiliency of women, especially Appalachian women. That’s not only humbling, but filled with a pride that is quintessential West Virginia.
My gratitude extends beyond the people I talked with in New York.
When I returned to West Virginia to promote my book, I was overwhelmed at the reception I received from restauranteurs and shop owners and dry cleaners and neighborhood markets and librarians and booksellers — ahh the number of booksellers in West Virginia who welcomed me home with familiar smiles and warm congratulations -- along with fellow West Virginia authors.
So many of them had pre-ordered the book and read it and made the decision to stock it. Their generous spirits were overwhelming. Conversation drifted there too to the same issues that were discussed in the city that affected and will eventually affect every single West Virginian to some degree.
Because, you see, when one of us hurts, we all hurt. And as we continue to take issue with our leaders and their continued disregard for the welfare of each and every single West Virginian who is falling through the cracks, we need to hold tight to not what divides us but what connects us. And there is so very much more of the latter.
Kathleen Jacobs has a master's degree in humanistic studies. She divides her time between West Virginia and New York. "The Harboring & other stories" is available from all booksellers.
