Mostly Murders

It was the first cost of ownership: being seen. In this county, visibility wasn’t a compliment, it was a target marked in daylight.

A Reconstruction-era historical novel set in Alabama, and a testament to quiet but persistent resistance and resilience. Angie Sterling inherits an old abandoned house and quickly learns just how many of her neighbours object to the idea of a Black woman having ownership and agency. Undeterred by warnings, threats or sabotage, Angie resists the hostilities and accusations, not with anger or violence, but with quiet dignity and gentle composure. Her house becomes a refuge for children learning their letters and arithmetic, and for men and women who understand justice, not just as a system in a court, but as a deepfelt inner moral and ethical compass, and a measure of how a decent person should behave.

If there was ever a story built on the old saying “The pen is mightier than the sword”, this is it. Angie’s resistance takes the shape of documentation. She documents everything in her Proof Book, taking ownership of her own life, and forces her neighbours to do the same by writing down their actions and words, leaving them with the choice to accept and behave, or be recorded for posterity as bullies and liars.

The pace of the writing mimics Angie’s own character, gentle, slow and lingering, like a steady stream of water smoothing the jagged edges of the rocks it passes on its way. Prophetic and poetic metaphors and life lessons fill the pages, crafting a tale that is a celebration of identity, history and representation, and of values worth passing down to future generations.

Historical fiction