 Mention of Southern bayou country usually conjures up images of decaying
old mansions and equally decaying families, of semitropical heat, sluggish
waters, and a people lost in a sort of perpetual somnolence. Such may be the
bayou country of some fictional treatments, but it is not Bayou Bartholomew. |
| In this book, Bayou Bartholomew, which wends its serpentine way across
southeastern Arkansas before disappearing into Louisiana, provides the
centerpiece and setting for the history of a land and its people. We watch as
the pristine wilderness yields to settlements bearing distinctly American
names such as Mt. Pleasant and Owl Hoot, as well as names like Thebes and
Trafalgar taken from the remote past. The story unfolds as a brilliantly colored
tapestry detailing the struggles of a people to make a living, to cope with wars
and natural disasters, to maintain an orderly society, to educate the young, to
stay well, and, occasionally, to have fun. |
| The author paints her verbal canvas with understanding and skill, but to a
considerable degree, people are allowed to tell their own stories. Liberal
quotes from the many interviews conducted by the author convey the
homespun genuineness of personal and folk recollection. Vanished times and
places live again as memories are awakened, and Bayou Bartholomew yields
up some of its secrets to those who would know and understand. |
| But somehow, beyond the very real quality of the book as a treasury of
factual information, a sense of brooding mystery remains. The lyric prose of
the author, particularly evident as the story nears its end, leaves us with
renewed realization that the past can never be completely explored nor
thoroughly understood. The brighter side of this dark coin is that, thanks to
Beyond Bartholomew, the reader knows much more than he ever knew about
this one fascinating fragment of Southern bayou country. |
|
Dr. John L. Ferguson |
|
State Historian |
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