My Literary Mother

TRIBUTES TO MARY LEE SETTLE My Literary Mother______ Denise Giardina In late September, my mother died, and days later I received the news that Mary Lee Settle had passed away. When asked by the Charleston Gazette for a comment, I said I had recently lost my mother, and now my literary mother. I did not mean to be presumptuous, for certainly I have no blood relationship to Mary Lee, nor was I an intimate of hers. We spoke in total no more than nine or ten times. But I did feel close to her, and whether reading her books or conversing with her, I felt a kindred spirit. It was a closeness of both place and theme. Both Mary Lee and I knew the mountains of eastern Kentucky and West Virginia. We were especially drawn to eastern Kanawha County—where both of us spent considerable parts of our childhood—and the New River. I recall talking with Mary Lee at a reception about how we considered the upper Kanawha and New Rivers to be the heart of West Virginia. We both have written about the West Virginia coal mine wars, the Depression in the mountains, and the seventeenth century in England. Mary Lee got there first and showed the way so that I could explore on my own. While much American fiction seemed to be turned inward, she let me know it was fine to write about the rebels, the idealists, those who stand up for what they believe is right. She confirmed that history was the most wonderful subject a writer could explore. Mary Lee was also refreshingly honest. She gave me my first break as a writer when she chose me for a fiction workshop at then Morris Harvey College, when I was still unpublished. This led to her friend George Garrett, who helped me find an agent. I knew when she recognized my writing ability, that meant something. She offered me some bracing criticism of my novel Storming Heaven, and I felt like someone she took seriously. I recall sitting beside her at a dinner honoring George Garrett. I told her I was thinking of moving back to Charleston, West Virginia. She leaned close and said, "Oh, don't move back to Charleston. It's a mean little town." I didn't take her advice that time. But I understood. She had written about Charleston in depth, and she couldn't go back. I have lived quite happily in Charleston, but I have heeded her protective advice. I have never written about it. 10 ...