Rylant and Moser Honor Their Heritage With Appalachia: The Voices of Sleeping Birds

My grandma grew up surrounded by the Appalachian Mountains. She lived on a sprawling farm, where her parents and older siblings eked a living out of the beautiful but fickle land. Every year, dozens of descendants of Grandma's parents make the trek to Little Pine Valley in Central Pennsylvania. We're drawn by the natural wonders and the sense of family connection. This isn't exactly the section of the mountain range that Cynthia Rylant describes in Appalachia: The Voices of Sleeping Birds, but I still can't help but feel as though I understand her kinship with the people of the mountains.

This book, which features gorgeous watercolors by Barry Moser, is a loving tribute to a land both author and illustrator know well. Standing more than a foot tall, it has the feel of a coffee table book, though it isn't any thicker than the average picture book. There are twelve full-page paintings and twelve pages of text, plus a fairly lengthy epigraph by James Agee.

Appalachia really is not a story, unless it could be described as the story of a particular people. It's pure description, but there is a bit of a narrative arc as Rylant describes the lives of Appalachians from birth to death, though it doesn't quite follow that straightforward path. In fact, as so many of Rylant's books do, it begins and ends with dogs. Dogs with names like Prince and King who run through the mountains at their liberty, though by the looks of Moser's example - a lazy-looking hound twice caught in mid-stretch and once caught snoozing - they may be just as inclined to stretch out on the porches of their masters or putter slowly around the yard.

Rylant describes the residents of this part of Appalachia, which seems to be somewhere in West Virginia, as hard-working and set in their ways. They haven't chosen an easy life, as Moser illustrates in the piercing portrait of an aged, dirt-encrusted miner, but it's one that they love. They love watching the sun rise over the mountains, trekking to church each Sunday in their finest garb, cooking, canning and hunting. They love each other and are slightly suspicious of strangers but will always help a friend.

Some of Rylant's assertions are generalizations, no doubt, that aren't as universally applicable as she implies. But you get a good sense of the lifestyle and community with her words, which tend to cluster in extremely lengthy sentences. The last sentence in the book is twelve lines long and is a paragraph unto itself. It leaves the impression that she's just bursting with things to say about these people and is breathlessly relating her experiences to us. Both Rylant and Moser bring a deeply personal perspective to this book, giving it almost the quality of a family album. Both grew up in Appalachia, so this slim volume seems like returning home.

Appalachia: The Voices of Sleeping Birds is a beautiful, reflective book that is less for children than for adults, but it's the sort of cozy fireside book that would make good family reading, especially for people with relatives in this region. John Denver called it "almost heaven." Rylant offers a little more balance, showing some of the grit and toil of Appalachians, but on the whole, I'd have to say she agrees.