 |
In the spirit of a true memoir, Regan’s work is vulnerable and authentic. However, she takes it a step further by helping audiences understand how her work came together, from the meticulously detailed research references to the countless family interviews that provide a complete snapshot of her family, the good and the bad laid bare for audiences to absorb. Through the lens of stunning revelations about her own family, a Southern farming family revolving around love and togetherness, the author meticulously weaves in some of American history’s defining moments.
Early in the narrative, readers are transported to a harrowing scene of a house fire, where Maisie, the author’s mother, is but an infant, and her older sister—nine-year-old Ansie, the author’s aunt—is entrusted with saving her, saving the baby. The theme of “saving the baby,” as the baby is the epitome of purity, peace, and innocence, or all the good in the world, resurfaces throughout the work, especially when it comes to the tenuous topic of slavery and racial discrimination. The author, in her unpacking of the piece, is fearless, even incorporating religion and psychology to help the reader understand the profound nature of the baby and its ancestors beyond the material world.
As Regan dives into the genealogy of her family, Tom Kirven, her grandfather, rises to the surface as an interesting character, one who is both merciful and strong, especially when it comes to protecting family. Tom’s marksmanship is on full display during the encounter with the cottonmouths, while the younger Kirven, Joe, shoots a rabid dog as it is descending upon his family and threatening harm. Interestingly, Coit Kirven’s aim and experience in the military are similarly instrumental when thwarting a robbery. His daughter Beau (also the author’s cousin) would carry on the tradition, outdueling the entirety of the Sumter police force in marksmanship at the age of thirteen.
Cathy and Laura Beth, the author's two sisters, were just as tenacious as their male cousins. Somewhat ironically, the author herself strayed away from physicality, instead digging deep into the meaning behind stories and literature, a perennial prober who valued relationships and examined life from a sturdy, investigative perspective, most prominently seeking to peel back the layers of time and understand her family’s history and what made them tick.
As the memoir progresses, the tenor of the work shifts, particularly when it is revealed to Regan that her family owned slaves. The remnants of slavery are prevalent in all aspects, and the author is determined to understand and help others understand how families that are inherently good can engage in something that is innately wrong and evil, like slavery. Interestingly, as Regan is recounting her own upbringing, she explores the vantage point of her mother through her resisting visits to The Farm and events like the spelling bee and being photographed with other spelling champs who happened to be Black.
The discussion that emanates from this work, or at least one angle of it, is trying to understand the role that inherited bias has. For individuals born to slave-owning families, their paradigm of right or wrong is often directly tied to the environment of which they are a byproduct. Exacerbating the situation further, as Regan learns through conversations with her family, is the White man’s act of concern toward their slaves. Undoubtedly, even when that desire to help is genuine, the trauma that Blacks have suffered can make such efforts come across as disingenuous. Ultimately, Regan strikes a strong balance between telling her family story and protecting “a Good Name,” all while deciphering her family’s roots in slavery. At its core, the work is a commentary on one’s environment, what it means to be good or evil, and how most are largely in that gray area, exhibiting qualities and actions that are both redeemable and cringeworthy.