Kimberly Brock's novel,
The River Witch is a beautifully written story about a young woman, Roslyn Byrne who is faced with the realization that the life she imagined and lived as a renowned ballerina will never be the same again. She seeks seclusion on a Georgia island by the Damascus River. The only thing Roslyn truly wants is solitude.
She rents a house that the locals know once belonged to the island conjure woman. She also meets a motherless child, Damascus (named after the river) and her handsome father, Urey who is haunted by his past.
She listens to Sacred Harp music, which is sentimental to her because of the grandmother she recently lost. Roslyn soon becomes fully involved in the lives of the characters of the island and this also includes an albino alligator.
You'll laugh and you'll cry. Just wait until you read the part about the Damascus feast. If you've ever been to a Southern dinner, it will resonate with you. And even if you haven't, you'll enjoy it. Dinner is not about the food as much as it is about the company.
As Roslyn begins to help the islanders, she also begins to find herself again.
And on Black Friday the novel will be at a special
Kindle price on Amazon.
The
The River Witch was the June selection for the online book club at
She Reads.
Here is an interview with Kimberly Brock:
What exactly is a
River Witch?
Throughout history there have been tales of women who turned
into mermaids or serpents or sirens. But I was far into the writing of The
River Witch before I realized I’d incorporated such long-standing mythology
into my contemporary work. In particular, after the book was finished, I
discovered shocking similarities between The River Witch and the enduring myth
of Melusine, a cursed maiden living on a lost island who took the shape of a
serpent when bathing. This dual feminine nature – the idea of a beautiful woman
with a terrible secret, an unfortunate lover, a woman with a wailing song, one
who bridges the gap between known and unknown realms, who has lost her children
and wanders in exile because her darker nature has been revealed - applies not
only to the main character, Roslyn, but to all the women in the novel in
various ways. Inadvertently, I crafted the same old myth, incorporating my own
culture and environment of the Appalachian foothills and the Georgia coast. I
love that! I think it stands as proof that our stories are timeless. But I
leave it up to the reader to decide who they think the River Witch might be in
this story, and what they think that means.
Do you consider
yourself a superstitious person?
I am a deeply spiritual person, an intuitive person. I
believe in a higher power and I wonder at the universe. I think all people and
cultures are superstitious simply because our understanding of the world and
our own nature are so limited. Superstition is a reflection of those limits and
of our yearning for the divine.
How did the story
of The River Witch first present itself to you?
I read this article about a couple of women who decided to
open a pumpkin farm. They were holding a weekend celebration for the harvest.
The pictures were gorgeous, with this long table laden with food. And
everywhere, there was this beautiful, round, sumptuous fruit; these gourds and
pumpkins, round and full and smooth. All these warm colors. I couldn’t stop
looking at the pictures. I pulled the article out of the magazine and kept it,
going back to it often. I couldn’t stop thinking how much I wanted to be there
with those women. I could hear the music from the fiddle and the open-throat
sound of the singers in the photographs. I could taste the fried chicken and
grilled corn on the table. And it was all wrapped up in the shapes of their
harvest, such a compelling illustration of the feminine divine, of sensuality
and fertility and sustenance. I knew that I was going to tell a story about it
somehow. In my mind, it was set in a very isolated place, a mountain or an
island. I knew there was a river. I started looking into all of that and
researching, learning what it takes to grow those monster pumpkins, and
sketching scenes with a woman longing for her childhood home and sacred
traditions wrapped up in music and stories and a bountiful table. This was
Roslyn. But I couldn’t bring the ideas together cohesively.
Then one day, about a year later, I saw another report. This
time they were showing people floating down a river inside giant pumpkins that
had been rigged up as boats. I got excited. I saw the element of water, the
continuity of cycles and the ecology of a Sea Island with its rivers and
marshes and the hold-outs from a disappearing culture. What would it be like to
crawl inside one of those giant pumpkins on the river? Would I feel free or
like I was losing everything? And then I thought, if I felt the way I felt when
I looked at the women in the magazine with all their pumpkins, what would I see
if I was a little girl without a mother - or a mother without a child? And
then, Damascus started talking to me.
You tackle the
grievous matter of a miscarriage in River Witch. What do you think are some of
the most egregious misconceptions about miscarriages?
That they ever end, that the grief isn’t as potent or that
the child isn’t known. That grief for a baby you didn’t raise is any less than
that of losing a live child. We understand grief for a loved one who has lived
a life and we can find ways to come to terms with that cycle, life followed by
death. But when that cycle is broken, people don’t know how to approach that
kind of disappointment. We don’t know how to comfort the bereaved. We belittle
or discount a life that ended before or shortly after birth to try and make the
scales balance with the way we expect life to operate. In The River Witch, this
incongruity is also evident in the aftermath of the young death of Damascus’
mother, and the devastation of the Trezevant family. But in specific regard to
miscarriage, I tried to examine the idea that life is cyclical in ways we may
not even perceive, that the soul’s journey moves beyond our understanding.
Roslyn has a complicated
relationship with her mother but an endearing one with Granny Byrne. Was there
someone in your life that you modeled Granny after?
Mainly, Granny Byrne is based on an idea rather than a
person, but she does bare resemblance to a mix of my own mother and
grandmother. Even a little of my father is in there. I think Roslyn’s
relationship to her grandmother is more of an idea than a reality, even for
Roslyn. Had she been allowed to grow up in the cove with Granny Byrne, I wonder
if her memories would be the same? A family is a complicated mess at best, and
I think the way Roslyn and her mother struggle is much more true to life. But
we all have our mentors and we idolize them, that’s what gives their influence
strength in our lives.
Do you have a
writing mentor? How did that relationship develop?
I’ve been lucky beyond imagination to have so many accomplished
and gracious authors coming alongside me at different stages on this journey. I’ve
met other authors at writing conferences and through social media and been
amazed that they’re almost always willing to lend their advice and a moment of
encouragement to a fledgling. I am very aware of the precious value of their
time and I think that is part of the beauty of the writing community, that we
value one another and each other’s stories in a way that is noncompetitive and
supportive.
Not only writers, but many others in the publishing industry
including agents, editors and independent booksellers, have played the role of
mentor and friend. The fact that they accepted a writer before publication and
showed enthusiasm and continued interest in the work simply because they
respected the process was an act of faith that carried me a long way. I try to
find ways to pass that along every day.
Now I’m sticking my neck out to start visiting bookstores
for signings and readings, I’m overwhelmed by the welcome attitude of
booksellers and the generous wisdom and helping hand of veteran authors. This
book would have never seen the light of day without them.
Your single best
writing advice?
Trusting
the process. That’s kind of like trying to convince a woman she doesn’t really
want an epidural because the natural process of labor is beautiful and
rewarding, but seriously, it’s true. I keep trying to read something or watch
some presentation that will give me the secret, but that’s just stupid. No one
writer’s process is the same just like no two books are the same. There’s no
use rushing it. I’m a global thinker and I have this broad idea, a kind of
amorphous vision of a work and I want to get to the finished piece in this
neat, controlled way that never happens. I have to force myself to relax in the
bog of my imagination until something floats to the top that I can latch on to.
And all that time, I’m convincing myself I’m not crazy. I have to know that I’m
going to come full circle, and that I am an idiot kind of writer who is going
to do it all the hard way. And then I have to hope I’m eventually going to be
smart enough to write the book of my dreams, because when I’m writing I always
know I’m not smart enough. I have to let the book teach me something
first.
What are you
working on now?
Another southern mystical piece
involving an authentic but forgotten and discredited piece of American history
about a woman whose voice has been lost for centuries and the man whose love
made her story immortal.
