The Wiregrass

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Published by: She Writes Press
Release Date: August 4, 2015
Pages: 352
ISBN13: 978-1631529436


Reminiscent of the stories and styles of Harper Lee, Sue Monk Kidd, and Jan Karon, Pam Webber’s The Wiregrass  is an extraordinary tale about a magical time in an ordinary place full of lovable and unlovable characters. Infused with laughter, tears, love, loss, and hope, the story follows fourteen-year-old cousins Nettie, J.D. Eric, and Sam as they navigate the summer of their discontent, struggle with the physical and emotional turbulence of puberty and disappearing childhood, feel the excitement of first love, and run for their lives after they uncover an evil secret hidden in the shadows of the small town they love. Their story promises to stay with you a lifetime.



“5 Stars! This novel blew me away. This is why we should ration five star ratings: so when we give them they mean something.
Ron Andrea, As a Matter of Fancy Read more 

"Highly recommended debut fiction novel...Webber's beautiful evocation of place, and its quirks and feisty characters, is superb."
—AuthorExposure  Read more 

The Wiregrass has been selected as the "September Read of the Month" for the Southern Literary Review.
Southern Literary Review.  Read more 

"A gripping tale . . ." WordsAPlenty gives this book a 5 star review!
Charla White, WordsAPlenty Book Reviews Read more

 Read more praise



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The overstuffed suitcase was too heavy to carry, so I bumped it down the stone steps and pushed it across the damp grass toward the driveway, placing it in line with the others being loaded into the trunk of the blue Oldsmobile. The sun would be up in a couple of hours to dry things out, but for now the damp, the dark, and the hum of hundreds of invisible crickets made me tingle with excitement. School was finally out, and we were leaving on vacation, or at least what my family called vacation. In just a little while we would begin the long drive south down Route 29, across Virginia, the Carolinas, part of Georgia, and finally deep into Alabama, where narrow roads were bordered by strips of red dirt, kudzu, and drop-offs that ended in deep, blackwater bogs. By late tonight we would arrive in the tiny South Alabama town of Crystal Springs, where my momma was born and raised and where she met and married my soldier daddy. Crystal Springs was also where I had spent every summer since I could remember remembering.

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