Elvis waited for the water to rise. The last Civil War correspondent entered the field. A brother-in-law emptied both barrels of his rifle. The world stopped turning when the President died. 9-11 revealed another kind of New Yorker. A collector found high-priced slave shackles for sale. And the South—just like a fickle lover—continued to torment those who most cared.
"I figured I'd better wait awhile to see if y'all would settle down and get back to doing what you do best: aggravating people, but not insulting them."
"If you've never thought of yin and yang as southern symbols, maybe you will now."
"What's going on here? Texans and South Carolinians playing kissy-face with New York City? Isn't New York the heart of Yankeedom? Isn't it the city southerners love to hate?"
"'Like a fickle lover, the South has a way of tormenting those who care most about her.'"
"At last Curtis could sense that he was closing in on the lost Confederates."
"When I arrived at the Silver Spring Armory, I found the place jammed with brown and black people hawking rusted 'Authentic Slave Shackles' that only a consumer with a platinum credit card could purchase."
"For a moment the world stopped turning while we, a great nation, felt ourselves suddenly headless, directionless."
"Elvis is about twenty-one and 'Heartbreak Hotel' has just sold a million."
"One December afternoon, he finished off a running argument with his younger brother-in-law with both barrels of a shotgun."
University of Georgia Press, 2001
"Broome relished hiking through mist-shrouded old-growth forests, sleeping in the rain, or rock-hopping in winter on ice-covered boulders."
Princeton University Press, 2001
Oxford University Press, 2001
University of North Carolina Press, 2001
Louisiana State University Press, 2001
University Press of Mississippi, 2001
