One of the central poems of Wilkerson’s attractive first book, Threading Stone, unravels the title’s mystery, as the Greek hero Theseus is challenged to follow the thread (the gift of Ariadne) through the great stone labyrinth at Knossos. Even for Theseus, this is much harder than it first appears; not only is there the monstrous Minotaur, but the very act of “threading the stone”—through using language, through creating narrative—is called into question by this book’s “rhizomic world” where every thread appears to lead in multiple directions.

The familiar magic of jubilee on the Alabama coast, that sudden inversion of the natural order of things in the water that depletes its oxygen and sends its life forms scrambling onto the shore, is a guiding metaphor for P.T. Paul’s To Live and Write in Dixie. As on a jubilee night when strangeness and wonder mingle on the beach, and the ocean’s secrets are visible for all to see in profusion, Paul’s book is a wildly diverse, entertaining collection, intertwining accomplished literary poetry and prose, autobiography, historiography, cultural studies, and good old fashioned yarn spinning to create a vibrant, intertextual engagement with her central concerns: What does it mean to be both of and apart from the South, working through all its contradictory wonders and tragedies?

In a time when perhaps too few poets are willing to explore the ontological rift between language and meaning, discovering Alan May’s book Dead Letters is an occasion both for a new mode of celebration and some old-fashioned investigation of the poetic project itself. This daring collection—by turns experimental and surreal, meditative and poignant—is indeed a powerfully imagined and, finally, astonishing achievement.

Strewn with frequent sonnets and the occasional villanelle—as well as historical, literary, and personal reflections—Mary Carol Moran’s Equivocal Blessings delves into the penance we all must pay to the loved, the lost, the dead, and the remembered. Divided into three sections—“Clearing,” “Breathe With Me,” and “Strong Bones”—Equivocal Blessings features diverse approaches and narrative themes....

Paul Gaston has produced this charming, highly readable, and informative memoir, but not without some trepidation. Like many would-be memoirists he had read “a fair number” of Southern autobiographies with their “childhoods full of dark struggle, misery, injustice, and a lot of just plain meanness….It seemed as though childhood misery was a prerequisite for creativity and a life interesting enough to write and read about.” Gaston’s childhood in Fairhope was an idyll. In fact, he wryly complains “my parents were insufficiently critical. They did not prepare me for disapproval or disdain.”

According to author Wade Hall, next to only Jesus, more books have been published about Abraham Lincoln than any historical figure. Lincoln was a natural storyteller, too, often using humorous narratives to get his political points across without “insulting or angering.” Hall, author of more than twenty books featuring other “good people,” has done something similar in his new book. Decorated with historical illustrations, photographs, and a detailed chronology, it offers yet another charming portrait of our sixteenth president’s rich life.

The poems in Dennis Sampson’s Within the Shadow of a Man often address big questions such as evil and injustice, as a few random titles might suggest: "Mysteries," "Naming the World," "Brotherly Love," and "Concerning the Suffering of Others.” These poems are more often interested in ideas than in things. And fittingly, the poems are structurally capacious, usually having long lines and sometimes running to four or five pages.

In the sometimes macho world of outdoors writing, rarely does one writer flatter another by selecting and publishing his work. But with the publication of In That Sweet Country Ron Ellis has chosen to thus honor Harry Middleton, a former senior editor of Southern Living, by collecting thirty-five previously published essays and one poem.

Julie Williams, who holds a doctorate in mass communications from the University of Alabama and teaches journalism at Samford University, has written a tidy, entertaining account of the first school established in America to teach civilian pilots. More specifically, the idea was to teach individuals to teach others to be pilots. There were five students. All this happened in a cotton field owned by Frank D. Kohn outside Montgomery during March, April, and May of 1910.