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"I couldn’t imagine a life where I couldn’t come up on the hill to get away.”
In 1953, Clay, West Virginia, is a mining town where families have known each other for generations, and the biggest excitement of the year is when the circus comes to town. But that spring, a strike divides Clay and causes a tragic accident that changes 15-year-old Elizabeth’s life in an instant.
The accident sends Elizabeth to the hills in search of comfort. There she befriends Clarence, a high school outcast who has a rare and special animal hidden in the woods. As they care for his pet, they create a fragile refuge from the violence that is building all around them, and within their own families.
From the Hardcover Library Binding edition.
In 1953, Clay, West Virginia, is a mining town where families have known each other for generations, and the biggest excitement of the year is when the circus comes to town. But that spring, a strike divides Clay and causes a tragic accident that changes 15-year-old Elizabeth’s life in an instant.
The accident sends Elizabeth to the hills in search of comfort. There she befriends Clarence, a high school outcast who has a rare and special animal hidden in the woods. As they care for his pet, they create a fragile refuge from the violence that is building all around them, and within their own families.
From the Hardcover Library Binding edition.
"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.
About the Author:
Julie Baker and her husband have five children, two cats, and one dog. This is her first novel.
From the Hardcover edition.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:
From the Hardcover edition.
Chapter 1
If I'd had a dog, I wouldn't have kicked it. I would have let it walk with me to school and back. It would have kept me company and warned me of dangerous things in the woods like bears and rattlesnakes. Instead, all I had was a chicken. She followed me around and let me scratch her head. She was really one of my mama's laying hens, but I named her Red Baron anyway. I played with her when I had nothing else to do. But what I really wanted was something to call my own, something that heard my voice above everyone else's and came to me when I called it.
I was sitting beside the henhouse when my pop came outside. He looked at me a long while.
"It ain't normal for a boy your age to be playing with a chicken," he said. I shoved Red Baron off my lap and looked at the dirt.
"Well, can I have a dog then?"
"A dog? Why, a dog would only eat your chicken. Besides, I don't spend my days down in that filthy mine to feed no dog."
I pushed myself up and moved toward the porch. Red Baron followed me until I picked up a rock and threw it near her.
"Get away. Scat."
I didn't need nothin' else to make me different from all the other boys. I knew Pop didn't like me much on account of me not being "right." That's what he said when he thought I wasn't listening. I don't know why he bothered trying to hide his opinion from me. No one else seemed to care if I was listening or not.
The kids at school had been calling me retard or slug or something worse all my life. Just 'cause I looked funny and couldn't get my words out as fast as other kids. No one ever bothered with me unless it was at my expense. Groups of girls withdrew to little circles like roly-poly potato bugs when I came around. The boys had fun pushing me into them, thrilled by their squeals. But the fun went out of that game by about fourth or fifth grade. That's when they stopped noticing me at all.
I spent most of the time at school by myself. Even the nice girls, the ones who often gave our teacher flowers they'd picked on the way to school, couldn't bring themselves to speak to me. They'd turn their faces away faster than a hummingbird's wings flap when I caught them staring. They couldn't help themselves. My own pop was much the same way. I kept my head down if he took me anywhere so as not to embarrass him. I always kept my mouth shut, 'cause if people didn't notice my face, they'd sure look twice when they heard the twisted sound of my voice. I didn't want him to be ashamed of me, but he was. The only time I remember my pop being really happy was at the circus.
A year after we'd gone to the circus, I still remembered it like it was yesterday. Circus people were like no people I'd seen before. Their faces were strange and foreign and stayed in my dreams for months after.
"Come on, Clarence, I'm taking you to meet your new family. Get in the car!" Pop had teased that day. It wasn't like him to tease. There weren't nothin' Pop said that he didn't mean.
"Where are we going?"
"It's time for supper," Mama protested from the front porch.
"Put the supper away, Rosemary," he told her.
She stood on the porch with her hands on her hips, completely puzzled. His wide grin spread its way over his face. He was tall, and powerful enough to change Mama's whole mood with one look. "We're going to the circus."
When Mama smiled, I knew it must be true.
"Yippee!" I yelled.
I'd been studying the posters for weeks:
The Russell Ramey Circus
1952 North American Tour
Coming to Clay, West Virginia
We'll dazzle you
with elephants, lions and clowns
when we roll into town.
In our part of Appalachia, most people were miners and didn't have a lot of extra money for shows and things like that. But that didn't keep us from dreaming about it. The week before, I had been swinging on every wild grapevine I passed. I mastered a flip in the hayloft. Only a handful of kids I knew got to go to the circus, but everyone talked about it like they had been a thousand times.
Before I knew it, I was tucked between Mama and Pop in the truck. A line of cars and trucks stretched clear through town. Mama spied her cousin all the way from Braxton County three cars up. She leaned out of the car and yelled, "Anna Mae, it's Rosemary. Are y'all going to the circus?" I don't know where else she thought they were going. I had never seen my mama holler before, except at the chickens.
"Why is the circus coming all the way to Clay?" I asked. The circus usually performed only in big cities like Charleston and Huntington.
"Mr. Bagby is trying to throw us miners a bone," Pop answered. Most of Bagby's miners lived in Widon, deep among the hills with no flat land around. The circus had to set up just outside of Clay where the Elk River took a turn. Mr. Bagby, who owned the mine, sent a train to bring in his miners who lived in the company town. It wasn't but seven miles, but when they got off the train, they were hooting and hollering like they'd come from England.
Mama's lips were red with lipstick and she smelled like the drugstore makeup counter. People looked at her and she smiled and nodded as we walked to the tent. I never thought of her looking pretty until then.
The air inside the tent was heavy with the smell of sawdust and animals. A couple of clowns took our tickets and one gave my mother a paper flower. She turned her smile toward Pop.
The show began with elephants marching on parade. Each one held the tail of the one in front of them. They sat up and begged like dogs. But the dogs looked more like little girls. They were wearing fancy dresses and walking on their hind legs. The most amazing part of all was the people on the trapeze. They flew out over the crowd, doing twists and turns to every drumroll, falling perfectly into each other's grasp. I wished I could do that. "And now, Clarence Henderson will perform his amazing double flip." The crowd would ooh and ahh to the rhythm of each swing, their eyes following my every move.
At the break in the show, Pop came back with three big whips of pink cotton candy. I saw him slide his arm around Mama and give her a squeeze while she pulled pink tufts to her mouth. It was the best day of my life.
From the Hardcover edition.
If I'd had a dog, I wouldn't have kicked it. I would have let it walk with me to school and back. It would have kept me company and warned me of dangerous things in the woods like bears and rattlesnakes. Instead, all I had was a chicken. She followed me around and let me scratch her head. She was really one of my mama's laying hens, but I named her Red Baron anyway. I played with her when I had nothing else to do. But what I really wanted was something to call my own, something that heard my voice above everyone else's and came to me when I called it.
I was sitting beside the henhouse when my pop came outside. He looked at me a long while.
"It ain't normal for a boy your age to be playing with a chicken," he said. I shoved Red Baron off my lap and looked at the dirt.
"Well, can I have a dog then?"
"A dog? Why, a dog would only eat your chicken. Besides, I don't spend my days down in that filthy mine to feed no dog."
I pushed myself up and moved toward the porch. Red Baron followed me until I picked up a rock and threw it near her.
"Get away. Scat."
I didn't need nothin' else to make me different from all the other boys. I knew Pop didn't like me much on account of me not being "right." That's what he said when he thought I wasn't listening. I don't know why he bothered trying to hide his opinion from me. No one else seemed to care if I was listening or not.
The kids at school had been calling me retard or slug or something worse all my life. Just 'cause I looked funny and couldn't get my words out as fast as other kids. No one ever bothered with me unless it was at my expense. Groups of girls withdrew to little circles like roly-poly potato bugs when I came around. The boys had fun pushing me into them, thrilled by their squeals. But the fun went out of that game by about fourth or fifth grade. That's when they stopped noticing me at all.
I spent most of the time at school by myself. Even the nice girls, the ones who often gave our teacher flowers they'd picked on the way to school, couldn't bring themselves to speak to me. They'd turn their faces away faster than a hummingbird's wings flap when I caught them staring. They couldn't help themselves. My own pop was much the same way. I kept my head down if he took me anywhere so as not to embarrass him. I always kept my mouth shut, 'cause if people didn't notice my face, they'd sure look twice when they heard the twisted sound of my voice. I didn't want him to be ashamed of me, but he was. The only time I remember my pop being really happy was at the circus.
A year after we'd gone to the circus, I still remembered it like it was yesterday. Circus people were like no people I'd seen before. Their faces were strange and foreign and stayed in my dreams for months after.
"Come on, Clarence, I'm taking you to meet your new family. Get in the car!" Pop had teased that day. It wasn't like him to tease. There weren't nothin' Pop said that he didn't mean.
"Where are we going?"
"It's time for supper," Mama protested from the front porch.
"Put the supper away, Rosemary," he told her.
She stood on the porch with her hands on her hips, completely puzzled. His wide grin spread its way over his face. He was tall, and powerful enough to change Mama's whole mood with one look. "We're going to the circus."
When Mama smiled, I knew it must be true.
"Yippee!" I yelled.
I'd been studying the posters for weeks:
The Russell Ramey Circus
1952 North American Tour
Coming to Clay, West Virginia
We'll dazzle you
with elephants, lions and clowns
when we roll into town.
In our part of Appalachia, most people were miners and didn't have a lot of extra money for shows and things like that. But that didn't keep us from dreaming about it. The week before, I had been swinging on every wild grapevine I passed. I mastered a flip in the hayloft. Only a handful of kids I knew got to go to the circus, but everyone talked about it like they had been a thousand times.
Before I knew it, I was tucked between Mama and Pop in the truck. A line of cars and trucks stretched clear through town. Mama spied her cousin all the way from Braxton County three cars up. She leaned out of the car and yelled, "Anna Mae, it's Rosemary. Are y'all going to the circus?" I don't know where else she thought they were going. I had never seen my mama holler before, except at the chickens.
"Why is the circus coming all the way to Clay?" I asked. The circus usually performed only in big cities like Charleston and Huntington.
"Mr. Bagby is trying to throw us miners a bone," Pop answered. Most of Bagby's miners lived in Widon, deep among the hills with no flat land around. The circus had to set up just outside of Clay where the Elk River took a turn. Mr. Bagby, who owned the mine, sent a train to bring in his miners who lived in the company town. It wasn't but seven miles, but when they got off the train, they were hooting and hollering like they'd come from England.
Mama's lips were red with lipstick and she smelled like the drugstore makeup counter. People looked at her and she smiled and nodded as we walked to the tent. I never thought of her looking pretty until then.
The air inside the tent was heavy with the smell of sawdust and animals. A couple of clowns took our tickets and one gave my mother a paper flower. She turned her smile toward Pop.
The show began with elephants marching on parade. Each one held the tail of the one in front of them. They sat up and begged like dogs. But the dogs looked more like little girls. They were wearing fancy dresses and walking on their hind legs. The most amazing part of all was the people on the trapeze. They flew out over the crowd, doing twists and turns to every drumroll, falling perfectly into each other's grasp. I wished I could do that. "And now, Clarence Henderson will perform his amazing double flip." The crowd would ooh and ahh to the rhythm of each swing, their eyes following my every move.
At the break in the show, Pop came back with three big whips of pink cotton candy. I saw him slide his arm around Mama and give her a squeeze while she pulled pink tufts to her mouth. It was the best day of my life.
From the Hardcover edition.
"About this title" may belong to another edition of this title.
- PublisherLaurel Leaf
- Publication date2004
- ISBN 10 0440229030
- ISBN 13 9780440229032
- BindingPaperback
- Number of pages224
- Rating
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Up Molasses Mountain
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Book Description Mass Market Paperback. Condition: Very Good. No Stock Photos! We photograph every item. edge wear; In 1953, a strike divides a West Virginia mining town, causing an accident that changes 15-year-old Elizabeth's life. She then befriends a high school outcast who has a rare animal hidden in the woods. Seller Inventory # 048112
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Up Molasses Mountain
Published by
Laurel Leaf
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ISBN 10: 0440229030
ISBN 13: 9780440229032
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