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Welcome To Saint Angel excerpts in this font
William
Luvaas quotes from Email Interview with CRC Blog on June 18, 2018 in this font
CRC Blog on William Luvaas’s
Welcome
To Saint Angel
“Home: A Well of
Everlasting Chances”
Anaphora Literary Press published
William Luvaas’s environmental fiction
novel Welcome To Saint Angel on March 15, 2018, with book design
by Anna Faktorovich, PhD. and copy editing by Clare MacQueen.
Luvaas has published three other fiction
novels: The Seductions of Natalie Bach
by Little Brown; Going Under by Putnam; and Beneath The Coyote Hills by Spuyten
Duyvil. He’s also published two short
story collections: A Working Man’s Apocrypha
by University Oklahoma Press and Ashes Rain Down: a story cycle by
Spuyten Duyvil.
Anaphora Literary Press describes Welcome to Saint Angel as “a dead-serious comedy about development
gone mad and townsfolk’s – sometimes lethal – battle to protect their precious
rural community from bulldozers and climate change deniers. Part environmental fiction, part social
satire, it speaks to exurban sprawl and the heedless development of fragile
natural areas – and to the value of community, another endangered species.” (Left-Box of Welcome to Saint Angel copies attributed and copyright granted by William Luvaas)
They were building huge housing tracts everywhere: ugly identical houses crowded together cheek by jowl out there in the wide open spaces, no landscaping, no soul. It was painful to watch our peace and space being violated, the owls and coyotes chased off, olive and palm trees cut down.
Naturalist and preservationist and resident Al Sharp
refuses to sell his lands right and water rights despite the pressure from Ches
Noonan and his cronies. Soon Al’s
friends join him in the fight: Soboba
Indian married couple Sage and Wynona Littlefeather, Sam Jenson, Jesus freak
Rob Thompson, Mexican-American computer hacker Tinkerspoon, and Vietnam Vet
Little Lester.
Al Sharpe, the
co-narrator of Welcome to Saint Angel, has had a life of losses – one of which
is the loss of his wife first to her lover and then to her death in an airplane
crash. The one thing that saves Al Sharpe
is their daughter Finley whom Al Sharpe christened after his favorite novel Finnley
Wren by Philip Wylie.
Finley and I slept in
a tent those first three months, while I salvaged what I could from the house
and redid the roof and interior of an adobe cottage with two-foot-thick-walls
built by some early mestizo squatter far back off the road. I christened the place “Second Chance Acres.”
“Second chance for
what, Daddy?”
“For doing it right
this time. To be self -employed and avoid relationships where I’m considered
comic relief, to love you as much as two people combined.”
Page 25.
The
one thing that Al has at Second Chance Acres that is more valuable than gold
and money is water – in the form of his own well – one of the few wells that
are not in the control of the greedy developers. Al describes his well as having its living
source from below his own ground, deep in the ocean, which has been drinking
snowmelt from the mountains for millions of years. (Above Left: diagram attributed to schillerinstitute.org. Fair Use)
Fossil water. It tastes like time, our water. Mine, one of the few remaining wells in the
valley that doesn’t belong to the major ranchers and land magnates (which is to
say Ches Noonan and Cal Hale and associates) or wells on the rez.
Page 10
Saint Angel is not my formal name as you will find
it on the map, but I prefer it. In 1864,
J. Mayberry Haynes stood up on the mountain with his party of Indian scouts and
San Francisco entrepreneurs and declared, “What you see below us, boys, is the
Valley of Angels.” He christened me
Santa Rosa de Los Angeles. Indians in
the rancho days, watching their horses sicken and die after drinking from my
black soughs, named me “La Cienega del Diablo.”
Devil’s Swamp. Sam Jenson calls
me Saint Ain’t. By whatever name, I am a
high desert town – and the valley wherein it lies- of 12,000 souls (at story’s
outset), nearly 50,000 at mid-point), diminished to 8,000 at the end. All within the space of two hectic years.
Pages 17-18
I wake to Finley leaning over my
bed. “I missed you, Dad. I missed Second Chance Acres. They’ve like totally trashed it.” Her voice convulses in a sob.
“Where have you been?” I ask my daughter. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”
“Doing something stupid, okay, brackishly
stupid. I’m over that now.”
I take her hand. “We haven’t spent all our chances yet. Not by nearly.”
Page 224.
In the end Welcome to Saint Angel is about home – something every human being, plant, creature, and landscape needs in order to abound. “Yes, the book is definitely about home and how precious it is to us, how threatened we feel when someone infringes on it. Maybe it’s partly our territorial instinct, because we are animals, after all. All animals protect their nests. (Left: This image of William Luvaas and Mimi is given copyright permission by Lucinda Luvaas for this CRC Blog entry only.)
As Robert Frost said , (Left) “Home is the place where, when you go there, they have to take you in.” Something we can’t be denied. Our safety zone, our welcome zone where we can be exactly who we are, as we sometimes can’t out in the world. We enter the front door after a tense day and relax. Home can be a simple shack or a mansion. Or we may even refer to a town, state, or country as home. “I call Oregon home.” “Maryland is my home state.” “I’m a New Yorker.” It’s also a way of seeing things. My work is always colored by where I live at the time I’m writing. The atmosphere of the place bleeds over onto the page.
It only seems fitting to end this
piece with the last paragraph of the last page because it is this excerpt that Luvaas found the most emotional and compelling to write: (Left: this image has been given copyright permission by Lucinda Luvaas to be used for this CRC Blog entry only)
So we are back to normal again here
in the Kingdom of The Excessed. Waiting,
Rob Thompson says, for the next onslaught. I disagree with him. Disaster is
never inevitable. We go about life in our separate ways which tangle together
in a single ravel, one strand inextricably linked with the others. We are never
isolated, never fully alone. So I believe I speak for all of us when I say, If you
ever pass Saint Angel way and think of visiting, you’d be more than welcome.
LINKS MENTIONED IN THIS
PIECE:
A Working
Man’s Apocrypha
Lillian Able
Anaphora Literary Press
Facebook
Anaphora
Literary Press Web Page
Ashes Rain
Down: a story cycle
Beneath The Coyote Hills
Sammy Corrado IV
Anna Faktorovich
Going Under
Little Brown
Lucinda Luvaas Facebook
Lucinda Luvaas Web Page
William Luvaas Facebook
William Luvaas Web Page
Clare MacQueen
Putnam Facebook
The
Seductions of Natalie Bach
Spuyten Duyvil
University Oklahoma
Press
Welcome To
Saint Angel
Leonard Kelly Young