This Song Socked It to the Hypocrites

When we  look back at our childhoods, there are so many important cultural touchstones of the era. For me, just entering 8th grade, nothing was more ubiquitous than Jeannie C. Riley’s hit “Harper Valley P.T.A.

Riley’s record, her debut, sold over six million copies as a single, and it made her the first woman to top both the Billboard Hot 100 and the U.S. Hot Country Singles charts with the same song.1

Top. That means #1. Nobody else did this until Dolly Parton in 1981 with 9 to 5.1

I’ve known for a long time that my favorite songwriter, Tom T. Hall, wrote the song. He was young, still thinking he was going to a writer, such as a journalist or a novelist.2

Gosh, I love his music–the storytelling, the heart and soul, his bluegrass roots (being from Kentucky y’all).

“Harper Valley P.T.A.” is not on this album. These are many of the songs Tom T Hall recorded.

Hall said that this song ended up being his novel.2

Think of that. He was an amazing observer, like many writers, and what he observed in America showed up in his songs. For instance, in his song “Who’s Gonna Feed Them Hogs,” he captures so well a man who is so tied to his profession (in this case, a hog farmer) and perhaps to denial as well that in the hospital he thinks more about “them hogs” than he does about the fact that doctors think he might not survive.*

Back to the Jeannie C.Riley hit song, written by Hall. Originally it was suggested he write a song reminiscent of the Bobbie Gentry 1967 hit “Ode to Billie Joe.” And that’s how the song sounded when Riley first heard it sung by a demo singer.3

The song became a big hit in part because of Tom T. Hall’s amazing song writing, but finally because Riley added the finishing touch that really moved the song up a level.

If you listen to the song you see that that final line that is repeated twice is what makes you want to jump off your feet, scream, and applaud. It wouldn’t mean anything without Hall’s songwriting, but without Riley’s ending it would have been a fun and thought-provoking song, but not a GINORMOUS international hit.

The song is told in 3rd person. The singer/narrator tells the story of a young single mother who is admonished by the PTA about how she is raising her daughter. “Mrs. Johnson” goes to the PTA meeting and calls the board out as hypocrites. She sums up with my second favorite line of the song: “Well, this is just a little Peyton Place and you’re all Harper Valley hypocrites!

Side note: Peyton Place was very popular, starting as a novel by Grace Metalious, based on true events, focusing on all the covered up sins, crimes, and vices of a small town–as well as the gossip. Sadly, Metalious died of cirrhosis of the liver at age 39. Look up the Peyton Place “franchise” if you don’t know much about it.

Back to the ending of “Harper Valley P.T.A.,” repeated twice, that is written by Riley.

Originally, the song lyrics stayed in the 3rd person POV, calling Mrs. Johnson “that mama.”3

But Riley moved to the 1st person in that ending, thus surprising the listener with the idea that the teen daughter was the one proudly sharing her mama’s story. She also added a very popular up-to-date touch by using the term “socked it to,” made popular by the TV program Laugh-in. 3 Thus:

The day my mama socked it to the Harper Valley P.T.A.

The day my mama socked it to the Harper Valley P.T.A.

By repeating that last line, the listener has the chance to really absorb that this kid is so proud of her mom for standing up to the hypocrites.

With that ending and the mini skirt Hall wrote into a song based on his own childhood observation (he was born in 1936), the song became emblematic of MY 1960s childhood. This song is an anthem for my generation.

In this way, this song presented an inspiring role model. Can you dig it?

***

1 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harper_Valley_PTA

https://theboot.com/jeannie-c-riley-harper-valley-pta-lyrics/

https://americansongwriter.com/why-jeannie-c-riley-hated-her-1968-one-hit-wonder-and-how-she-was-finally-convinced-to-record-it/

*Bonus video: “Who’s Gonna Feed Them Hogs”

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Lily and the Good News

If you’ve followed what Lily has been going through following the death of Perry, here’s your eagerly awaited update!

She ate something on her own this morning!

I’m pretty darn sure that before the dental it was her tooth causing problems (and maybe some grief for Perry) and that after the dental the anorexia (and diarrhea) was caused by the meds, especially the antibiotic. She might have some IBD which made things worse, but in general, I think she’s on the upswing.

All that 24 hour a day nursing was worth it!

I’m so tired and she and the house need cleaning. But after she ate today I suddenly wanted to write a blog post about the music I’ve been listening to with Lily.  Lots of classic country, and I really started to focus on one song in particular. I’ll write it today and post it tomorrow morning :).

Thanks for all your good wishes and love and prayers for Lily’s health. Keep them coming, but I think we’re outta those dark fairy tale woods.

XOXO

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Lily at the Vet

Scrap: Salvaging a Family garnered a couple of beautiful new reviews over the past few days.  I am so grateful for the readers for their reviews.

The book’s reviews have been excellent, but they are coming in very slowly. I don’t think readers realize that even a one sentence review on Amazon helps the algorithms immensely.

It’s tough going to sell a book, even one with good reviews. And then the path to the reviews is kind of tortuous (medical term hah). I like how Ellen Morris Prewitt describes it in her blog post The Kindness of Strangers. She says:

This authoring business is a Blanche DuBois undertaking. Like the heroine in A Streetcar Named Desire, authors must depend on the kindness of strangers. First, an author asks people to come to their event. Then, when the guests arrive, you want them to buy a book. After that, you’re hoping they crack open the book and read it. Once they’ve read it, here comes another ask: will you tell people you like the book? That’s four things you’re asking of a person. Four. That seems like a lot to me.

You can translate that first one, the event, in my case as to read my social media, blog posts, substack notes, etc. So I am humbly asking for those other three things if you’re reading this post: a) buy the book, b) read the book, c) review the book with even one sentence. Actually I am pleased if you do a, and thrilled if you do b. I am downright relieved if you do c.

Anyway, here’s a little pic of the darker side of Scrap as a reward for reading through the above words (mine, not Ellen’s). Then I want to update you about Lily.

Hah, isn’t that cool? Playing around with Book Brush, as you can see.

So Lily. She had stopped eating and I had to bring her to the vet last week. She then had a dental procedure because she had a big resorbing tooth that had to be removed. After the surgery on Thursday, she ate and then Friday she seemed as if she was recovering well. She ate and took her meds.

But then yesterday, Saturday, she did not eat all day. She didn’t act like herself.

Today she still wasn’t eating, and I had to take her to the vet. This new vet is open Sundays, but not Saturdays. Her meds got changed around and she got fluids because she was dehydrated again. Tomorrow I have to take her in for fluids again. I won’t do them myself as I did that with Felix years ago for some time, and it drove a wedge between us as he hated it.

I hate making this about myself (instead of Lily) but actually I’m getting PTSD over my cats.

I don’t want Lily to be part of the prevailing pattern.

For instance, from July 2021 to June 2022, I lost four cats. Three of them were from July to September!

Then in 2024 I lost Kana. Not part of a pattern.

However, in February of this year I lost Meesker and then on June 28 the King of All Cats, Perry.

I wonder if Lily is doing what Pear Blossom did when Mac died in 2015. She stopped eating completely. I tried desperately to get her to eat, but she would not. Our vet thought she was going to die. Then one day she just started eating again.

However, I do think I must have gotten a bit of nourishment down her somehow. Lily is refusing ANYTHING.

What if Lily just doesn’t start eating in time? Cats can only go for a short time without food or they get a life-threatening condition called hepatic lipidosis (fatty liver disease).

Please send healing vibes and prayers for Lily.

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A Fedora Stand and Antique Photographs

Anthony Avina has published a guest post on his blog. I wrote about the time period of my memoir Scrap: Salvaging a Family and included anecdotes and photographs (antique or nearly so) not found in the book. Fedora stand explanation is found in the guest post!

GUEST POST BY LUANNE

I hope you enjoy reading about some of what didn’t make it into the book itself.

###

Perry’s ashes were hand delivered to us by the cremation company. I cleared off a shelf to store them, his photo, and the picture book I used to read him every day when he was in the shelter.

Lily now lives alone on the kitchen side of the house with Sloopy Anne on the bedroom side. I wonder if Lily now regrets being so mean to Sloops because she’s suffering from loneliness and grief. I had to take her to the vet yesterday (yes, she has an urgent care open on Sundays) and get her fluids and Gabapentin because she wasn’t eating or pooping. She’s doing a little better with much TLC from the Gardener and me.

It’s my turn to sleep on the couch with her tonight because last night was the Gardener’s turn.

 

 

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Filed under #poetswithcats, #ScrapSalvagingFamily, Book Review, Cats and Other Animals, coming of age, ELJ Editions, Family, Family history, flash memoir, Flash Nonfiction, hybrid memoir, Memoir, Nonfiction, SCRAP: SALVAGING A FAMILY

Blowing on the Pinwheel

A while back Zingara Poetry Review held a daily prompt challenge for a month. Then we were encouraged to submit poems written during that time for publication. I submitted this poem for the challenge JOURNAL MINING where I mined my old journals that I discovered in a suitcase. Thanks to EIC Lisa Hase-Jackson.

Blowing on the Pinwheel by Luanne Castle

The gardener and I watched Hudson overnight, so I’m going to take a nap now!!!

Thanks to photographer https://unsplash.com/@mrcalvert

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Return and Renewal

After dumping that saddest post on you last time, I thought I would share something positive. I think Perry has sent me presents from beyond the rainbow bridge.

Before I leave you with these images of renewal, let me say that I lost my mind and ordered the fanciest cremation package, a cardstock photo of Perry from Shutterfly, and a copy of Curious George Goes to An Ice Cream Shop, the book I used to read Perry every day when he was at the rescue. I’ll clear off a shelf in the kitchen near my computer for these items, including his ashes.

The mamas and babies below remind me of the year that my father and my cat Mac died. My father died on May 14 and Mac on June 28. After my father died, a hummingbird returned to the nest where she had just raised a pair of twins and laid another two eggs. I got to video her teaching one of her chicks to fly. I re-published the lyric essay/flash nonfiction story I wrote about these events on Substack: Leaving, Changing, Returning

And now this year:

First there was the mama quail and her huge covey of chicks. Daddy not available at the time of this video.

Then the gardener showed me the hummingbird mama on her nest right outside our door. See how she’s built it on the underside of a lantern.

hummingbird mama on her nest

Later, the gardener told me where to find the mourning dove (how appropriate) nest on top of a patio speaker. Look closely to see two babies sitting in the nest. Sorry the video keeps moving too far down.

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My Saddest Blog Post

Three and a half years ago my soul mate cat Perry was diagnosed with both a serious heart issue and either IBD or GI cancer of some sort. At the time we thought he’d only have maybe a year. I was broken hearted to learn this because he was only seven years old.

We were blessed to actually get these 3 1/2 years instead. He required several medications. And he suffered with horrible diarrhea most days. But his love was strong so he hung on.

Until Tuesday night when he stopped eating and drinking and began to hide himself away. I realized that Perry was breathing rapidly with his mouth slightly open. The gardener and I were supposed to go on a business trip, so I told him to go without me–that I would stay and take care of Perry. Yesterday, I had to let the emergency vet put Perry out of current suffering. What I was told was that they had exhausted what they could for him, and that I could take him to a specialty emergency hospital. He probably had a few things wrong with him–pneumonia, congestive heart failure, maybe more. What that special ER visit would entail would be lots of nasty testing and then he would be hositalized for at least a few days–with a feeding tube. And the prognosis wasn’t good. I could see the vet was telling me something.

After conferring with the gardener who spoke with the vet on the phone, we decided we couldn’t let his sensitive soul suffer any longer when there was no hope of him actually getting well enough to enjoy life.

So on May 28, 2026. Perry, my very best friend, passed away.

If you don’t know, Perry was a stray in my yard nine years ago. We trapped him in a trapping cage and got him neutered. Then I brought him to the animal rescue where the gardener and I both volunteered. I visited every day and read him his favorite Curious George book. But he seemed feral in that setting, and the rescue asked me to find another place for him as he was too difficult to care for. So I bought a 3 tier cage and brought him home. He stayed in that cage until he felt comfortable hanging out in the room. For two months I read and sang to him for a few minutes every waking hour. I held his bowl while he ate.

Finally one day while he was hiding under the bed and I put my hand toward him, he rubbed against my hand. Then I knew he was not really feral, just a very very scared and neglected stray cat who had been infested with worms and whose paws were thickly callused. Perry’s soulful eyes and gentle but commanding personality quickly made him my favorite cat of all time. He was the most unique and more like a toddler than a cat sometimes.  We became a team, Perry and Mama. And more recently when my grandson Hudson would lie on the couch with me Perry would squeeze his way between us all the while licking us both to show that although he had to come first with Mama, he loved Hudson, too.

I wrote this poem when Perry was first diagnosed, and it was published in a small journal that is defunct.

Perry

I call my other cats dear heart names–
Tiger Queenie Princess Mimi
and Meeskeleh Meeskeleh Meeskerelli.
Lily Billy Peaches and Cream.
Perry is Perry.
Perry is a cartoon cat.
He’s Tom of Tom and Jerry.
My other cats look like regular cats.
Those cats hobble into old age
with arthritis and newfound
appreciation for my help.
Perry ignores all boundaries.
He carries his octopus, fish, and squid
upstairs and down, wherever we are.
He stares at the others for attention.
My other cats lie on the couch back,
the chair, the bed, or in the new box.
Perry lies tummy up in the crook
of my arm for the length of a movie.
When I’m mad at my husband I say
I’ll divorce you and marry Perry!
Perry is only lucky number seven.
The others are elderly and wise.
Perry has been imaged inside and out.
He doesn’t know what we saw,
and I can’t feel what I saw, or
I won’t be able to breathe, so I say
Perry is Perry.

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Eden Robins: Isn’t it Time to Own Your Own Life?

Today I am handing over the keys to this blog to my dear IRL friend romance novelist Eden Robins who is sharing a guest post about something close to her heart. Feel free to share this blog post with anyone you think might want to own their own life!

###

 Own Your Own Life

Every person gets to ask themselves this:
“Who am I, who do I want to be, and how do I choose to be in this moment?”

Own your own life.

That’s an underlying theme in the novels I write and it’s my mission in guiding others as a life coach.

I’ve been asked a number of times what I mean by the phrase, “own your own life”. My answer is what you might expect. It means you get to decide the kind of life you live today, tomorrow and for the rest of your days.

Okay, so now I’ve answered the question.

We’re done here, right?

Doesn’t everyone own their own life? After all, they’re the ones living it. Who else would own your life but you?

The answer may seem simple but, as I’ve learned over several decades on this earth, simple does not always mean easy.

Nevertheless, it’s important to understand exactly who’s running your life.

Why?

If who you believe you are is based on how others see you, or how you imagine they’re seeing you, then you’re not running your own life. You’re running on the hamster wheel of other people’s expectations, or your perception that they have those expectations.

Owning your own life starts with understanding who you are and what’s most important to you (aka your values). As a life coach, I help empower people to fully discover and embrace themselves and their values so they can take charge of and live their own best life. This empowerment can lead to a better job, healthier and happier relationships, an improved quality of life, smoother transitions and more confidence, courage, consistency and clarity in pursuing dreams and goals.

Life coaching isn’t about telling people what to do. Rather, it’s about guiding them to an understanding of what they already sense about themselves but haven’t fully settled into yet.

Sometimes, settling into the truth can be the hardest obstacle to overcome.

I know that because I’ve experienced it myself.

Well into my fifties, I decided to become a life coach. Yet, I couldn’t even bring myself to say, “I’m a life coach”. I’d use terms like “mentor”, “sponsor” or “guide”.

“Life coach” felt too expansive, too formal and way beyond how I saw myself. I was unable to reconcile who a life coach was with who I was. I was convinced I didn’t have what it took to do the job.

Even after I received my life coaching certification, those old, overused “you’re not enough” recordings played repeatedly in my head…

All that volunteer work didn’t make me a life coach. So what if I received a certification in life coaching? That didn’t mean anything. So what if I had over a decade of experience? That didn’t count because I hadn’t charged money for my services. You’re too old. It’s too late.

The negative chatter droned on incessantly for over two years after I received my certification. I realize now that this time in between was valuable because my beliefs began shifting and sharpening as my idea of what it meant to be a coach evolved and became clearer.

I hired other coaches to work with me. I also studied coaching by taking classes, attending workshops, and researching others in my field. All the while, I continued my volunteer coaching. I grasp now that I was progressing during that time because I had made the choice to be curious and stay open to change even when mired in self-doubt.

In other words, I decided to dig into and face the truth about myself in a way that eventually led to an important question.

What if I AM enough?

That simple, quiet question grew louder and louder in my mind until I could no longer ignore it and decided to answer it by asking another question.

What does it mean to be a life coach?

That question changed everything for a few reasons.

First, it cracked open my resistance to accepting the truth about myself, which became just enough of an opening to let my curiosity bloom. Second, I realized that those two years following my certification provided me with the opportunity to explore and learn the answer. And third, timing played a big part. I believe that if I hadn’t spent those years learning, staying curious, and questioning if, perhaps, I was enough, I might still be sitting on the fence rather than taking action.

My curiosity helped me know in my gut the answer to the question, “What does it mean to be a life coach?”

My answer was a knowing deep in my gut that declared, “I hold everything I need to be a life coach inside of me right now.”

That shift from resistance to curiosity led me to a new awareness of myself and helped me become ready to face the truth of who I was.

Every person gets to ask themselves this: “Who am I, who do I want to be, and how do I choose to be in this moment?”

Owning your own life is ultimately about realizing that you have power over the life you live because you get to choose who and how you want to be every second of living it. That power is always there, no matter your age, the people around you, or what’s happening in your world.

I’d like to leave you with this truth-filled reminder by the extraordinarily talented author, Alice Walker:
“The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.”

Through my novels and my coaching, my goal has been to remind you of this simple, but powerful truth. You do and always have had the choice to own your own life. And don’t worry. If you aren’t sure how to walk that path of self-awareness and empowerment, I’ve got your back.

I once lived a disempowered life, and I know without a doubt that I can help you, as I’ve helped others, rediscover the confidence, courage, clarity, and power you’ve had inside you all along.

Isn’t it time to own your own life?

Eden Robins is a certified life coach, best-selling author, and owner of her own life. When not writing edge of your seat adventures, Eden helps people take charge of their life by taking charge of their own thoughts. Want the latest tips and tools for creating a life you love? Sign up for Eden’s Own Your Own Life newsletter here.

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Still Reeling from Last Week

Last week was a tough one, not because anything bad happened. It was just a lot for me physically and even mentally.

We celebrated Mother’s Day a week late at my son and DIL’s house. Son and SIL made fish tacos and daughter made guacamole and gluten free raspberry almond cake. But all day I felt a bit off, as if I was going to get a vestibular migraine attack. In case you are coming late to this VM stuff, it’s not a headache–I used to get regular migraine headaches until they morphed into the annihilator weapon of migraines. They are all kinds of awful, and while it’s going on I am lying there covering my vision and hearing with pillows, sweating up a storm, and wishing I were dead. And vomiting. In total, there are about twenty symptoms.

But I didn’t get one that day or the next. I got it on Tuesday and wasted the whole day doing the above (pillows, sweat, symptoms, etc.). Then my daughter brought her two kitties over for me to babysit while she and hubby went to Hawaii (something wrong with this situation).

Wednesday my grandson got out of school for the summer. His camp doesn’t start until today, so guess who had him all the while I was still shaky and walking around in migraine glasses, not thinking clearly.

However, we had FUN.

On Friday, Hudson was in one of those two-year-old moods where he wanted his stuffie and binky more than just naptime. In this photo, I asked him to take out the binky for one second to have his picture taken. This is the shot he gave me.

We took him to Dairy Queen, and I told him ahead of time he had to leave the binky at home but he could take his stuffie friend. When I said it was time to go to the car he carefully tucked both items in “his” drawer and pointed out to me that he was leaving the stuffie, TOO. He was so proud of himself.

IF YOU WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT SCRAP: SALVAGING A FAMILY

Below is an update of the book tour for Scrap: Salvaging a Family. I am sharing a quote from each blog post in the hopes that as a whole they give a good idea of what it’s like to read the book and what you would find inside the front and back cover. Here are the links with a quote from each:

Tour Schedule for Scrap: Salvaging a Family (memoir in flash):

March 21: Joy Neal Kidney (review)

[T]he father of the author, an unpredictable, frightening, and sometimes violent man who often took out his rage on Luanne, his only daughter. What a complicated childhood, one without answers . . . . [The] answers finally seeped out later in life, with both father and daughter attempting to make sense of the complicated scraps of their shared past. The author bravely gives glimpses of early years, therapy years, and later years with candor and compassion, and amazing resilience.

March 23: Liz Gauffreau, (review)

The memoir has been structured with intention and a high level of craft in its component parts.The three sections of Scrap follow the narrative arc of a three-act play: “Early Years” as set-up, “Therapy” as confrontation, and “Later Years” as resolution. Similarly, the mode of expression for each section is well-aligned with its content: flash for “Early Years,” interrogative dialog for “Therapy,” and narrative prose for “Years Later.” There are also poems to provide even more emotional depth in key places. Some of the flash pieces are “imaginings,” when Castle puts herself in Rudy’s and her beloved grandmother’s place as another step on the path to insight and understanding.

March 24: Marie Ann Bailey, (review)

Early on in Scrap, we are introduced to Rudy’s “wolf teeth” and “wolf mask.” Later, we are horrified by bouts of his physical and emotional violence. And yet there are moments of tenderness, of love. And moments of Rudy’s pain and suffering that Luanne excavates for us. Luanne gives voice to her father’s own difficult childhood, his concerns for the starving children he came across while serving in Korea, his relationship with his grandchildren. Rudy is a complicated man but isn’t every man complicated? Isn’t every woman complicated? And don’t they become less complicated the more we understand them?

March 25: John W. Howell, (excerpt–below is the first section of the excerpt)

Daddy moves his workbench to the garage by hoisting the heavy counter up the stairs on a dolly. He lets me carry a leg, but when I stumble, he says I should just watch. He removes all the tools, the scrap wood, even the army sleeping bags from the basement. The space heater in the garage makes the new workshop too dangerous for me. The elves abandon us. Daddy drives home a truckload of cement blocks and carries each brick down the stairs by himself. Each brick holds a secret that I can’t share with anyone. He stacks the blocks in a quadrant-shaped domino pattern, building walls two bricks deep. Without mortar, the bricks resemble my wooden blocks. Rosemary Clooney croons for us to come to her house.

March 30: Miriam Hurdle, (companion story by Luanne–below is first paragraph)

Dad held the blanketed bundle in his arms as if it were a baby. When he unwrapped the violin, I murmured in anticipation, reaching out to stroke the reddish-brown wood. Dad urged me to be careful but nodded at my eagerness. He asked if I knew what it was.

March 31: Review Tales (review)

One of the memoir’s greatest strengths is its refusal to simplify reconciliation. Forgiveness here is not sentimental. It is gradual, complicated, and earned through insight. As the daughter learns about her father’s early life and hidden history, empathy emerges—not as weakness, but as strength. The book becomes a meditation on how knowledge reshapes memory and how understanding can soften even deeply embedded wounds.

April 2: the bookworm (review)

This was my first time reading a memoir written entirely in poetry (sic) and I was fascinated by it. Luanne Castle shares her life from childhood through present. Highlighted is her relationship with her family, her mother, her brother and in particular her father. As I read I thought how brave she is for putting these personal experiences on the page. Her poetry is beautiful and moving and I found several favorite lines.

April 9: Ashley’s Books, Cozy Home Delight (review)

It is fascinating to see how a person grows into themselves when they did not come from a perfect or even safe environment. She shows that it is possible to come from something painful and still become someone whole. That part stayed with me just as much as the harder moments did.

April 13: What’s That Book About (guest post by Luanne)

In the version of Little Red that I concocted in my head, the wolf hid inside of my father and only showed himself when my father became red-faced and angry. That’s when his big wolf teeth would pop out: “the wolf teeth inside him are shifty and unpredictable” (p. 12). When that happened, Little Red needed to look out! That I was Little Red was obvious to me as I felt small and innocent and helpless.

April 15: Tabi Thoughts(review)

Scrap is also beautifully honest and vulnerable, especially considering it addresses topics that are difficult to write about. As someone who also wants to one day write about difficult, confusing, challenging yet transformative memories, I really appreciate Luanne’s ability to share her story so openly while also exploring multiple perspectives. Luanne’s writing felt intimate, almost like reading journal entries or flipping through a scrapbook of memories which gives it a raw and reflective tone. What stood out most to me was her relationship with her father. It was powerful reading about how she navigated the pain of his shortcomings while acknowledging his own pain and how his childhood shaped him as a parent.

April 23: Lavender Orchids (review)

What stayed with me most was how the form mirrors the content. The fragments feel intentional, like the only honest way to tell this story. Childhood here isn’t softened or romanticised. It’s confusing, sometimes tender, often unsettling. The writing doesn’t over-explain, and that restraint works in its favour. You’re not told how to feel, but you feel it anyway.

April 27: The Reading Bud (review)

Scrap: Salvaging a Family by Luanne Castle is a fragmented, lyrical, and emotionally precise memoir that sifts through family memory, inherited shame, childhood fear, and the difficult work of understanding a parent without excusing the harm they caused. Written as a “memoir in flash,” the book is built out of short, vivid pieces, named as scraps of childhood, domestic scenes, remembered violence, questions, photographs, family stories, documents, and imagined reconstructions, all stitched together into something devastating and incredibly artful.

May 4: Chelsea’s Books (review)

Castle’s writing is beautiful. I love the “memoir in flash” style, each vignette is tight and succinct without an unnecessary word and yet they are so profound. I was really taken with her ability.

May 4: Smorgasbord (excerpt–below is the first paragraph of the excerpt)

In the spring, we run like besieged villagers from the DDT planes following us down the street, our parents’ warnings sirening in our heads, the nose-tingling smell of gasoline pelting our hair and our jackets. Come summer, the onslaught is more insidious as plumes chugged out by the smokestacks at the pill factory coat the sky, masking the stink of the city dump behind the houses on our side of the street.

May 6: Brotman Blog (review)

Have you ever picked up a book, not knowing what to expect, and become so wrapped up in the story and the writing that you just don’t want to put it down? That was my experience  reading Luanne Castle’s newest book Scrap: Salvaging a Family. From the first page until I finished it, I was spellbound.

May 7: The Reading Bud (interview with Luanne)

 I do love taking workshops. My husband jokingly calls me a “professional student.” The constraints involved with writing to prompts assigned by someone else stimulate my imagination and keep me focused so that I don’t have too many decisions to make. The routine is to sit in front of the computer and start writing when I can find at least a half hour. Kitchen or office, it doesn’t matter, although the kitchen is easier because I can keep an eye on what else needs doing. I’ve never really had long periods of solitude to write. Maybe that’s why I tend to write poetry and flash.

May 14: True Book Addict (guest post by Luanne)

Ten years into wrestling with Scrap, I started to write flash fiction. Flash fiction isn’t a shorter than usual short story, but its own genre. Flash fiction has as much in common with poetry as it does with short stories. After I felt comfortable with flash, I realized that flash nonfiction made more sense than chapters to me as a vehicle for my memories. And once I opened my mind to flash for memoir, I realized that a hybrid or combination of genres could also be useful. For instance, much of the reflection in Scrap is told through mini “essays” where I directly discuss certain memories and revelations.

May 15: Storyteller Poetry Review (review and excerpts)

Fellow Arizonian, Luanne Castle is a masterful storyteller so it was no surprise to me when I couldn’t put down her unique well written memoir, “Scrap: Salvaging a Family,” until I had read it from cover to cover.  With powerful and poignant poems and flash fiction she tells the story of her chaotic childhood in description and dialogue so vivid it was like watching a movie.

May 19: True Book Addict (review)

What can I say about such a wonderful and poignant memoir, and so uniquely told through flash non-fiction? I do not read many memoirs. I would read more if they were written like this one. If I ever write one, you can be sure that I will approach in a similar way.

May 20: Merril D. Smith (review)

I read it through in one afternoon. I couldn’t stop; I was so caught up in the story! The book begins with the revelation that her father was a bastard. Castle explains the several meanings of the word, and how in the time and place in which her father grew up, it was a stigma that left him shamed and angry. To me, it seems that secrecy more than illegitimacy produced generations of suffering. Castle’s father’s father was a well-respected doctor who not only had this secret family, but who also doctored his own past.

May 21: The Book Connection (review)

Wow! This memoir doesn’t tug at the heartstrings. It plucks them hard and snaps a few. Scrap: Salvaging A Family is deep, it’s emotional, it cracks open family secrets, and it explores family hardships that impact generations. Masterfully written, readers follow one woman’s examination of her childhood trauma brought on by events that occurred well before she was born.

May 26: Author Anthony Avina (review)

May 28: Author Anthony Avina (guest post)

There are also a few beautiful reviews on Goodreads and Amazon that are not part of the blog tour. I use the term “blog tour” loosely meaning if it appeared on a blog or by a bookstagrammer, then it’s part of the tour.

BUT LET ME ASSURE YOU SCRAP NEEDS MORE REVIEWS ON AMAZON AND GOODREADS AND IF THEY EVER FIX MY DISTRIBUTION CONNECTION ON BOOKBUB, TOO.

EBOOK AND PAPERBACK AVAILABLE HERE

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Merril’s Review

A big thank you to Merril D. Smith for her heartfelt review of my memoir Scrap:Salvaging a Family.  

MERRIL’S REVIEW OF SCRAP

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Filed under #ScrapSalvagingFamily, Book Review, ELJ Editions, Family, Family history, flash memoir, Flash Nonfiction, hybrid memoir, Memoir, Nonfiction, Scrap:Salvaging a Family