The New Road: I-26 and the Footprints of Progress in Appalachia (review)

Take a drive on any stretch of interstate through western North Carolina and you will observe dozens of locations where large swaths of mountainsides have been carved away to accommodate the road. These alterations to the terrain are the most obvious signs of what construction crews call the highway's "footprint." But, as photographer Rob Amberg demonstrates in his new album on the construction of Interstate 26 (I-26) through Madison County, North Carolina, a road's footprint leaves a much more permanent mark than, say, that belonging to an animal or a person. The word "footprint" denotes something small and temporary, he says, something that "could promptly be erased with the swipe of a paper towel" (xi) or a hard rain. The nine-mile stretch of I-26 in Madison County is anything but small and temporary. Seven hundred acres of forest and farmland were cleared, hillsides were dynamited, and streams were redirected to make room for the road. Less obvious to interstate travelers, but no less dramatic, may be the footprint that new road left on the area's social landscape. Amberg explores this oft-forgotten aspect of road construction in The New Road through images, oral interviews, and personal insights. The book reveals the complex emotions that accompany new development and demonstrates that although change may seem to many an inevitable part of life, it does not always come easily.

This album exposes the range of emotions that accompanied I-26's construction. In all chapters, save the introduction and final chapter, Amberg places residents' voices at center stage. His personal commentary is reserved for captions beneath the photographs. Each chapter contains excerpts of oral interviews from county residents that are supplemented by Amberg's images. The chapters are organized thematically; in the first chapters, residents reflect on the county's past, whereas in later chapters, they speculate about the demographic, environmental, cultural, and economic changes that the road will bring. The final chapter includes additional oral histories from local residents, but those interviews are linked together by Amberg's personal musings about the potential loss of local identity and the commodification of the area's history, culture, and environment. Collectively, the chapters provide the reader with a powerful sense of the pain, anticipation, hope, and fear that rankle communities during periods of rapid change. It is through the interviews that the reader develops a sense of the ambivalence that people feel toward the new road. It is regarded as a positive force in many ways—it will encourage new business development and will all but remove eighteen-wheelers from the sinuous highway US 23—but residents also mourn the loss of homeplaces, locally owned businesses, and the sense of security that comes with knowing all of one's neighbors.

Amberg conducted the interviews with a satisfying cross section of the county's population. Old-timers and relative newcomers, many of whom came to the county during the 1970s as part of the "back-to-the-land" movement, as well as a few younger individuals, reflect on the past, contemplate the meaning of community, and reveal their feelings about the highway. Because of Amberg's willingness to include different groups of people, the book escapes the trap of presenting the pre-interstate community as idyllic and frozen in time. Instead, we see that Madison County, like any other area, has experienced its fair share of joys, hardships, and change since the first white settlers arrived over two hundred years ago. Whereas some residents celebrate and romanticize the relative simplicity of their pasts, others recognize that the county's social landscape has been slowly changing for years.

The images are equally as powerful. All images except for those in the final chapter are black and white. Some provide readers with a sense of what the county was like before, during, and after the road's opening, whereas...