At the dawn of World War I, Leona Pinson lives with her emotionally absent mother, sociopathic brother, and dwarf aunt on the family farm. With the help of their father’s former slave, Luther, they struggle to maintain the farm and eek out an existence. Relationships are complicated, but even among the dysfunctionality of the household there is love and fierce loyalty.
When Leona becomes pregnant, she refuses to disclose the name of the father and rumors fly within their small community. Intent on protecting the man she loves; she waits hopefully for his return from the war, only to learn upon his return that he has brought a wife. Leona is crushed. Then her brother’s violent behavior escalates and her aunt abandons her, leaving Leona to rely on the assistance and love of Luther to protect her baby.
Through Leona’s eyes, we experience the flu epidemic, the horrors of the Klan, news of a world war, and family trauma. Throughout, Leona bravely follows her own moral instincts. That Pinson Girl is a study in the human condition, an exploration of loss and hope.
By book’s end, we learn the truth behind the death of Leona’s father, the reason for her mother’s instability, and the truth about Luther’s relationship to them all. More importantly, we witness the resiliency of Leona throughout.
Written from various points of view, Gerry Wilson helps us find empathy for even the vilest characters as we learn their backstories—not to justify behavior, but to understand it. She writes about a complicated time and place where racism, sexism, and poverty abound. But even amid such dreadfulness, Wilson shows the reader love, hope, and reconciliation.
Wilson’s strong sense of place is essential for a book like this. Mississippi is complicated and we are there in time and place. We feel what it means to exist in that world. Multifarious biracial friendships deserve more attention and Wilson portrays the relationship between Leona and Luther with the care and complexity it demands. Leona and Luther are memorable characters that leave the reader wanting more of them.
Wilson teases out one betrayal after another for the reader to follow until each one is finally revealed. Like breadcrumbs she drops hints of what has been and what will be. She accomplishes this with finesse and the lyrical language of fine Southern Noir literature. Wilson is an excellent storyteller. Her characters and setting echo Faulkner, O’Connor, and early Cormac McCarthy. I hope to read more from her in the future.