The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek

Nichole Miller

October 6, 2020

The September Bella Book Club Review by Nichole Miller

by Kim Michele Richardson

Cussy Carter is not your average 19-year-old. She is a Kentucky blue-skinned girl, and may be the last of her kind. Called Bluet by most folk, she loves her job as a librarian with the United States Pack Horse Project, which provides book delivery to the rural parts of Kentucky. Her father, a coal miner, has been working in the mines for years and knows that his lung disease is getting worse. Understanding that he doesn’t have long to live, he tries to arrange a fit marriage for Cussy to ensure her survival in difficult times. But the question is, who wants to marry a blue-skinned girl? To add to the difficulty, Cussy is stubborn and determined never to fall in love. She doesn’t want to give up her independence or the job she loves. She would be happy to be left alone in her family home.

Cussy’s true love is books and bringing those books all over the mountain. She has formed many special connections with the people along her book delivery route by making weekly calls to the homes each week. However, traveling the mountainside alone brings dangers. Not only are the mountain roads narrow, with steep drop-offs where one wrong move would mean sure death — animals and strangers pose many threats as well. Cussy, used to whispers about her skin, has gained special attention from the town doctor and local preacher. Both men want their chance to cure her of her blue skin, even if it means her death.

This book is powerful historical fiction that looks at depression-era Appalachian culture and how difficult it is to overcome adversity. Based on actual accounts of blue-skinned people who lived in Kentucky during this time, this book weaves a story about love, discrimination, and perseverance. Be prepared for an emotion-filled read that will keep you involved well past your bedtime.

Bella Book Host

EmilyAnn Raynor

For some people the majority of this past year has represented a slow down. It has been a time to enjoy reading and to spend time with family or hobbies. As an essential employee of various sorts, reluctant homeschool parent, and magazine assistant, I think my life went into double time. This has required getting creative about how I enjoy one of my favorite hobbies: reading. Luckily the local library has an entire library of ebooks and audiobooks in addition to print books. I was able to enjoy The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek as a free audiobook on my mobile phone via one of the apps supported by the Aiken County Public Library.

Something that struck me about this book is the creativity that people had to employ when they did not have any other resources. This book is set in the 1930s, just after the official end of the Great Depression, but for remote and rural areas, hard times reached much further. It is based on the true story of a Kentucky family, ostracized for their rare medical condition that resulted in blue skin, and the Kentucky Pack Horse Library service. In 1935, writes The Smithsonian Magazine, Kentucky had only about 1 book per capita, and 30% of Kentuckians could not read. Local people were hired as part of Roosevelt’s New Deal to take books into the remote hills of Kentucky. Librarians had to employ resourcefulness and creativity to preserve the books, by recovering them with old fabric and scraps, and to create new books that contained patterns, recipes, and stories from Kentuckians themselves.

EmilyAnn Raynor is a native of Aiken, South Carolina, with more hobbies than time to do them. Among other things, she is a nurse, ballet costume designer, and mother of two human children and three fur children.

Nichole Miller

Nikke is a busy nurse practitioner but in her spare time is an avid reader of all genres. Other hobbies include kayaking, writing, and sleeping. She and her husband have two daughters, three cats, and one kombucha scoby. To rationalize her book addiction, she will be bringing us a monthly book club selection.

Nichole Miller

In the know

The Case for Chocolate

How is it mothers always know what’s going on behind their backs, especially when it’s something naughty? I loved sugar as a small child. When no one was looking, I’d get into the sugar bowl. There usually wasn’t much activity or supervision in the dining room, and the sugar bowl tempted me. I would use the spoon in the bowl to scoop up the sugar and put it in my mouth, and then wait in bliss while it slowly dissolved on my tongue. Evidently this was very naughty, and my mother always knew. It took me a long time to find out how. The spoon was sterling silver, a souvenir

Taking Action

“Opportunities are like sunrises. If you wait too long,you miss them.” ~ William Arthur Ward This year has me wondering — is there more? More to life perhaps? More I can do? More I want to do? Many of us have had more downtime in the past year that we’ve ever had before. Lots of thinking time, lots of planning time. We all know that time is not finite, but when life comes to a jarring halt as it did in 2020, maybe it’s time to reassess what we want the rest of our lives to be. Most will probably want more travel, more family, more normal. This time of

Dogs Riding in Cars

I suspect it may be the reason most dogs keep us around. We can drive cars … and trucks and motorhomes and motorcycles. And, as a result, we can seemingly create the very wind itself. To the senses of dogs riding in cars, I suspect it seems we can also somehow make all the best smells float on the air at once, with a cacophony of new and familiar sounds intertwined and changing every few seconds. We magically bring farms with fields of horses into view before they dash past us with glorious speed. We find new people to watch walking and riding bikes, and other dogs to call out

Why I Love Daffodils

There is something magical about daffodils. The mere shape of the flower seems to trumpet the arrival of spring, announcing something new and exciting. Imagine March in the Lowcountry with a sea of yellow daffodils covering a yard that stretches all the way down to the banks of Abbapoola Creek. My grandmother Lou would sit on the green porch swing and watch her grandchildren de-daffodil her yard. I can still hear the rhythmic creaking of the chains from the old swing — it almost sounded like a familiar song. She loved watching us pick every flower but there was always another prized daffodil hidden in her yard. The goal was