A Southern Girl

John Warley

Description

ABOUT THIS PREVIEW
These are the opening pages of A Southern Girl, John Warley’s novel of international adoption and of families lost, then found anew through revelations, courage, and the perseverance of a love without bounds. A Southern Girl: Beginnings introduces readers to the harrowing plight of Soo Yun, a newborn Korean girl, through the perspectives of her birth mother, her orphanage nurse, and her prospective adoptive parents. The complete story unfolds in A Southern Girl: A Novel, the first publication of Pat Conroy’s Story River Books imprint of the University of South Carolina Press.
Set against the exquisite, historical backdrop of Charleston's insular South of Broad neighborhood, A Southern Girl is a tale of international adoption and of families lost, then found anew through revelations, courage, and the perseverance of a love without bounds. With two biological sons and a promising career, Coleman Carter seems set to fulfill his promise as a resourceful trial lawyer, devoted husband, and dutiful father until his wife, Elizabeth, champions their adoption of a Korean orphan. This seemingly altruistic mission estranges Coleman's conservative parents and demands that he now embrace the unknown as fully as he has always entrenched himself in the familiar.
Elizabeth, a self-proclaimed liberal with a global sense of duty, is eager for the adoption, while Coleman, a scion of the Old South, is at best a reluctant participant. But the arrival of Soo Yun (later called Allie) into the Carter household and the challenging reactions of Coleman's peers and parents awakens in him a broadening sense of responsibility and dedication to his new family that opens his eyes to the subtle racism and exclusionary activities that had dominated his sheltered life. To garner Allie's entrance into Charleston society, Coleman must come to terms with his past and guide Allie toward finding her own origins as the Carters forge a new family identity and confront generations-old fears inherent in Southern traditions of purity and prestige.
Deftly told through the distinctive voices of Allie's birth mother, her orphanage nurse, her adoptive mother Elizabeth, and finally Coleman himself, A Southern Girl brings us deeply into Allie's plights—first for her very survival and then for her sense of identity, belonging, and love in her new and not always welcoming culture. In this truly international tale, John Warley guides us through the enclaves of southern privilege in New Hampton, Virginia, and Charleston, the poverty-stricken back alleys of Seoul, South Korea, the jungles of Vietnam, and the stone sidewalks of San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, as the bonds between father and daughter become strong enough to confront the trials of their pasts and present alike.
The first release from Pat Conroy's Story River Books, A Southern Girl includes a foreword by New York Times bestselling novelist Therese Anne Fowler.

Sujets

• Carolina del Sur
• Vietnam
• South Carolina
• Korea
• Viêt Nam
• Pat Conroy
• Charleston
• Caroline du Sud
• Corée

Informations

• Publié par: University of South Carolina Press
• Date de parution: 24 mars 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9781611175073
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

A SOUTHERN GIRL
Pat Conroy, Editor at Large
A SOUTHERN
GIRL

Beginnings
J OHN WARLEY
About this Preview
These are the opening pages of A Southern Girl , John Warley s novel of international adoption and of families lost, then found anew through revelations, courage, and the perseverance of a love without bounds. A Southern Girl: Beginnings introduces readers to the harrowing plight of Soo Yun, a newborn Korean girl, through the perspectives of her birth mother, her orphanage nurse, and her prospective adoptive parents. The complete story unfolds in A Southern Girl: A Novel , the first publication of Pat Conroy s Story River Books imprint of the University of South Carolina Press.
For our daughter ,
MaryBeth Warley Lockwood
IN MEMORIAM
The stroke of death is as a lover s pinch, which hurts, and is desired.
Shakespeare, Anthony and Cleopatra , Act V, Scene 2
Barbara Nelson Warley
February 5, 1949-February 21, 2014
2014 John Warley
Published by the University of South Carolina Press Columbia, South Carolina 29208
www.sc.edu/uscpress
23 22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS HAS CATALOGED THE FULL NOVEL AS FOLLOWS:
Warley, John. A southern girl : a novel / John Warley. pages cm.-(Story River Books) ISBN 978-1-61117-391-8 (hardbound : alk. paper)- ISBN 978-1-61117-392-5 (ebook) 1. Adoption-Fiction. 2. South Carolina-Fiction. I . Title. PS 3623. A 8624 S 68 2014 813 .6- DC 23 2013032346
A Southern Girl: Beginnings , 2014 978-1-61117-507-3 (eBook Short)
CONTENTS
Prologue
Jong Sim
Hana
Elizabeth
Coleman
PROLOGUE
June 28, 1978
Dear Open Arms:
My name is Elizabeth Carter. I am a twenty-eight year old mother of two biological sons. This letter responds to Section 3(a) of your application: State in five hundred words or less why you want to adopt a son or daughter from a foreign country.
No question on a pre-printed form has cost me so much sleep as this one. My husband, Coleman, has been asking me this exact question for months (although he wisely did not restrict me to five hundred words-he knows better). My answers have not convinced him, and worse, they haven t convinced me either. So I decided to put my desire in writing, in hopes that by the last period on the final sentence both you and I are persuaded that this adoption is best for everyone. If either of us remains doubtful, perhaps it was not meant to be .
I cannot address the question without telling you something of my early life. As you know from responses to other questions on this application, I was born in Topeka, Kansas, on July 14, 1950. As a child I attached no significance to that date-the middle of summer heat when no one felt like doing much and my friends were either at camp or traveling, so the few birthday parties I remember were poorly attended. In high school, I learned I was born on Bastille Day. I liked the sound of it. Peasants storming a prison to liberate people who should never have been there in the first place spoke to me. I searched for some ancestral tie to France, but never found one. My folks were of Polish and German descent, and their parents were the outer limits of their genetic curiosity .
So many of the girls I knew had parents just like mine: second generation eastern European, middle class, church-going, tax-paying, hard working. But somehow those families succeeded in areas where my family seemed predisposed to fail. My friends adored their parents, whereas I found mine rather stiff and removed. My friend Janet told me her three brothers were her best friends, but my two brothers just happened to live in the same house. I knew from visits to my friends at Christmas that certain traditions predominated, yet my family observed very few of those. In a real sense I grew up without the identity felt so strongly by those I spent my time with .
Things only got worse when I reached high school. I was skinny, flat-chested, and bookish; hardly the attributes that got a girl elected homecoming queen. I had a few girlfriends, but they focused more on boys than anything else. By the time we graduated, a couple of them were already engaged. I, on the other hand, couldn t wait to get away from Topeka, to run toward a special and exciting future that I was sure awaited me in some other place. I chose Hollins for college because it was in the East, had a strong English department, and promised some sophistication I hoped would rub off on me. My parents were none too happy with the price of tuition, but they reluctantly supported my choice. I filled out there, both physically and emotionally .
I first met my husband on a blind date, then again just before he finished college at the University of Virginia. He is a true son of the South, but without that sappy drawl I find grating to the ear. He is an only child, the golden boy his parents doted on, in much the same way he dotes on our two sons, Steven and Josh. He is an excellent father, which is why I have been surprised at his attitude about this adoption. I probably shouldn t be telling you he has reservations, but he does and I want to be honest even if it dooms my application; our application, because he has signed it despite those reservations. He says he doesn t think he can love an adopted child the same way he loves our biological boys. I think he is wrong. In important ways I know him better than he knows himself, and once he gets past his fear of the unknown, he will be a great father to her (we want a girl, as specified in response to question 2(c)). He also says a foreign adoption will upset his parents. He is probably right on that one, as his parents are old school and quite conservative. I ve come to learn that in the South, blood is everything. But as I say, he will come around. Whether they will remains to be seen .
So I come back to my reasons for wanting this child. Part of it is altruism, no doubt. So many children are born into dire circumstances dooming them from birth. Rescuing one doesn t solve that, but if our family is in a position to help, we should do it .
Altruism aside, I sense that out there somewhere is an infant whose life will be radically altered for the better by what we do. I am speaking here beyond the generic benefits of a loving family to a child without one. My own upbringing came with a liberal dose of alienation, and I know firsthand how painful that can be. A child adopted into a strange culture in a land foreign to her birth may feel that same alienation, particularly here in the South. I can relate. I can ease that pain. I can make the difference. I know I can. Somewhere out there is or will be a girl who with my help will grow up safe and secure and with the same sense of belonging our sons feel. And with those advantages, she will soar .
I have used more than five hundred words, but this is too important to skimp. Please let us know your decision soon .
Very truly yours ,
Elizabeth Carter
1
Jong Sim
My sweet gardenia, today we will go into Seoul, a city I myself have never seen but one we can visit together. What a day we will have. Everything will be new, as you are new. Oh, do not worry about getting lost. Min Jung gave detailed instructions. This bus carries us to the edge of the city, where we will take another. The sights and sounds and the aromas will welcome us there. They will forever live in our pooled memory. Little flower, we will remember this day always.
Am I holding you too tight? It is because the bus lurches from side to side and hiccups when the potholes find the wheels, and at any moment you may be jarred from me. Can I loosen your pojaegi? There. You may move your arms for greater comfort. Your perfect little arms.
I have a surprise for you. Later. Surprises are best when you must wait for them. I should know. You yourself were a surprise. Imagine my happiness when the midwife held you up. When she cut the cord, you turned from blue to pink and you cried and I cried with you.
When we boarded the bus, the aunties in the front seat swooned when they saw your perfect skin, so like a peach. We cannot fault them for jealousy. Perhaps they have daughters who do not have your endless smile; the smile reflected in the pearl-backed mirror. Yes, I brought it with me. But I will bring it out later, because I must keep my eyes open for the tall sign with the green dragon. That is where we must get off to wait for the next bus. Min Jung told me three times: a tall sign with a green dragon. I hope there is not more than one such sign, but she would have told me if there was a chance for confusion. She is such a good friend.
Are you warm, little one? Let me loosen your blanket. Better? The heat on the bus is set for winter, but today is so mild I may open a window. Min Jung said we must make this trip soon, as the mild weather cannot last. I wish the flowers were in bloom for you to see and smell.
Did I tell you the pearl-backed mirror was a gift from my mother? She must have loved me very much because to get such a thing she would have to have sold at least a pig or three goats. How she could have managed such an expense I do not know. She always looked and felt so special when she held it to brush her hair.