For the Salt Lake Tribune, Ellen Weist read my book in conjunction with Brooke Williams’ new book and, I think, they make a good pairing.
Maybe it’s part of the work of a writer to dance with those who have passed on.
If you turn over the dirt at a place where something has happened, you’re stirring up history, as the poet Joy Harjo wrote.
Or maybe literary inspiration can be captured by that famously quoted idea of writer William Faulkner, about how history isn’t really dead, or even really past.
That’s the metaphorical link between two recent memoirs by Utah writers Brooke Williams and Scott Abbott, whose lives are shadowed by dead relatives.
Williams’ ghost is his great-great-grandfather William Williams, who died in Wyoming along the Mormon Trail. In contrast, Abbott is haunted by someone he once knew well, his younger brother, John, who died at 40 in 1991 of complications from AIDS.
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