I’ve been working on a new story involving a female smuggler from the Appalachians of the USA, as I wanted a protagonist who was capable and self-sufficient. It helps that I have two dear friends who have family history from this cultural group, and they’ve shaped a lot of my views away from the unfunny Hollywood “hillbilly” stereotype to something more realistic. That said, capturing the voice of an Appalachian mountain girl has been a lot harder than I expected. I’ve read some language studies and listened to a lot of YouTube and TikTok channels by Appalachian women speaking in their own voice, once of whom mentioned a book read by generations of American children: Where the Red Fern Grows, by Wilson Rawls (minor spoilers to follow).
Inspired by Rawls’s own childhood in the Ozarks, the story follows Billy Colman, who sets his heart on two Redbone Coonhound dogs so that he can become a racoon hunter. Over several years the single-minded Billy earns enough money to buy two pups, whom he names Old Dan and Little Ann, and with the help of his grandfather slowly learns the trials, triumphs and tragedy of hunting in the Ozarks.
While the Ozarks are not technically the Appalachians, my understanding is that there are several cultural similarities between the two areas, formed from both the harsh environment as well as the mix of Scottish, Irish and English settlers who lived and hunted in the mountains. Nonetheless, the book has been eye-opening.
This story is driven by the voice of the earnest, determined Billy Colman. It’s not just the rhythm of the Ozark speech, or the use of local idioms, it’s the way in which Billy’s story shows a deep knowledge of his mountain home. The culture of the mountain folk versus the town dwellers, the worries of Billy’s impoverished parents, the stunning environment of trees, animals, insects, soils and ice – the reader is immersed in the living, breathing world of early twentieth century mountain culture.
The story is not a complex, Game of Thrones style maze of intrigue; Where the Red Fern Grows is as simple as can be. But it doesn’t matter. The voice of this book is authentic, sincere, and authoritative. As a result, I was deeply invested in Billy’s story, and heartbroken by the end of the book. I cared more about Old Dan and Little Ann than any character I’ve come across in the last twelve months, and when I’d finished my wife found my curled up on the couch with my own little hound dog.
That, my friends, is a damn effective use of voice.
If you have any other suggestions for books with an effective voice, please let us know in the comments below!
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