This evening in London Hillary Mantel was awarded the Booker Prize for Wolf Hall.

Click here to read about Mantel and her prize-winning book on the official Booker website.

Previous blog on other titles shortlisted for the Booker.

Nick Flynn’s Some Ether (Graywolf Press, May 2000) was his first collection of poetry. I read it based on a recommendation from a friend of mine who is a poet. I was coming off of a long Yeats binge and was wondering what was being read by the people writing poetry, and this was one of ten collections he suggested.

This is a dark collection based on several themes, but almost always coming back to the event of his mother’s suicide. The latter portion of the collection deals with Flynn’s homeless father. But the weight of the material doesn’t cripple the collection. Flynn’s not really taking any cheap shots at you. Sentimentality is risked and earned. The dark themes are honest so they’re not thin. The imagery is well-crafted. The collection is  not cumbersome and it’s not too long. Thanks Mr. Flynn.

-Hunter

The great majority of the South’s plantation homes have been destroyed over time, and many have long been forgotten. In Lost Plantations of the South, Marc R. Matrana weaves together photographs, diaries and letters, architectural renderings, and other rare documents to tell the story of sixty of these vanquished estates and the people who once called them home.

From plantations that were destroyed by natural disaster such as Alabama’s Forks of Cypress, to those that were intentionally demolished such as Seven Oaks in Louisiana and Mount Brilliant in Kentucky, Matrana resurrects these lost mansions. Including plantations throughout the South as well as border states, Matrana carefully tracks the histories of each from the earliest days of construction to the often contentious struggles to preserve these irreplaceable historic treasures. Lost Plantations of the South explores the root causes of demise and provides understanding and insight on how lessons learned in these sad losses can help prevent future preservation crises. Capturing the voices of masters and mistresses alongside those of slaves, and featuring more than one hundred elegant archival illustrations, this book explores the powerful and complex histories of these cardinal homes across the South.

My New Orleans will change the way you look at New Orleans cooking and the way you see World-famous chef John Besh. It’s 16 chapters of culture, history, essay and insight, and pure goodness. Besh tells us the story of his New Orleans by the season and by the dish. Archival, four-color, location photography along with ingredient information make the Big Easy easy to tackle in home kitchens. Cooks will salivate over the 200 recipes that honor and celebrate everything New Orleans.

Bite by bite John Besh brings us New Orleans cooking like we’ve never tasted before. It’s the perfect blend of contemporary French techniques with indigenous Southern Louisiana products and know-how. His amazing new offering is exclusively brought to fans and foodies everywhere by Andrews McMeel.

From Mardi Gras, to the shrimp season, to the urban garden, to gumbo weather, boucherie (the season of the pig), and everything tasty in between, Besh gives a sampling of New Orleans that will have us all craving for more.

The boy from the Bayou isn’t just an acclaimed chef with an exceptional pallet. Besh is a chef with a heart. The ex-marine’s passion for the Crescent City, its people, and its livelihood are main courses making him a leader of the city’s culinary recovery and resilience after the wrath of Hurricane Katrina.

I think it was about two years ago that Tony Horwitz was last at Lemuria. I had just started working here and was at the reading. I was quickly impressed with his candor and knowledge. I could have listened to him talk all day! I purchased A Voyage Long and Strange and my boyfriend read it on our vacation and loved it. I feel like I have sort of read it since he related so many of Tony’s adventures to me as he read. Now he just finished reading Confederates in the Attic. I have to read this one myself no matter how much of the book had already been read to me.

The point of this blog is to say that I am very much enjoying Confederates, and I am becoming more and more embarrassed about not asking Tony any questions when he was here two years ago. But, I was reacquainting myself with the South and had also just never heard of Tony Horwitz. Finally, I say–if you haven’t already: Read Tony Horwitz. He does us all a huge service by showing his readers that history is very much alive with all the humor, perspective, courage, and truthfulness he can muster.

Confederates in the Attic takes readers on a ten-state adventure exploring the history of the Civil War and its effects on the South even today. So far, and I am not very far into the book at the moment, there are two people who I cannot forget: Sue Curtis and twelve-year-old Beth. (I am afraid my list of unforgettable people is going to get quite long.)

Sue Curtis is from North Carolina and is a member of the United Daughters of the Confederacy. She does research for her chapter to confirm that all applicants have blood relatives who were Confederate soldiers. Sue explains to Tony:

“We were raised Methodists,” Sue said. “But we converted to the Confederacy. There wasn’t time for both”

“War is hell,” Ed [her husband] deadpanned. “And it just might send us there.”

But Sue didn’t worry about the afterlife. In fact, she looked forward to it. “The neatest thing about living is that I can die and finally track down all those people I couldn’t find in the records.” She pointed to the ceiling and then at the floor. “Either way, it’ll be heaven just to get that information.”

Twelve-year-old Beth is also from North Carolina and is a member of the Children of the Confederacy. Beth explains that she doesn’t really “agree with all this ‘South is great’ stuff,'” and she has this to say about her recent obsession with Anne Frank and the Holocaust:

“What gets me is the heart of the Jews. They were the underdogs, they knew they were going to die but didn’t give up the faith,” she said. “Just like the Confederates.”

Ohhh . . . dear.