Whatever Light There Was
A Review of C.W. Blackwell's
Hard Mountain Clay
(Followed by an interview with the author.)
By Justin Lee
"Hard Mountain Clay will change you."
That front cover blurb by Meagan Lucas grabbed me. Not just because it's, well, a stunner of a blurb. It grabbed me because of the implications of it. It's atypical of what most people say about books. Change. Hard Mountain Clay is all about that. Throughout this novella we get to see that thing that molds people. That change that all good stories should depict but only those rare few do. The one that shapes a life.
To talk about the plot of this story in detail would be a shame. It's one to be experienced, not spoiled. So, I'll be brief with it:
Hard Mountain Clay follows siblings Ben and Maisey as they navigate the aftermath of a horrific hit-and-run involving their mother, Carolyn, a waitress grappling with a heroin addiction, and her meth smoking, tow truck driving, boyfriend Lou Holt. Ben and Maisey are sent down a Night of the Hunter-esque spiral as they try to make their way through whole.
Ben reminds me a lot of the character of Frank from the film, Sling Blade. A boy who, "lives inside of his own heart". Ben feels everything with a depth that comes with childhood. A depth that, once you experience more of the world, grows shallower. It makes the bad times hit so hard. But the good times? Those days your mama makes cupcakes for breakfast? Those days feel like magic. It's a horrible thing to lose. It's that change Meagan was talking about in her blurb. The loss of innocence that so many stories are written about. The loss that so many of us can only hope to catch a piece of later in life so that our days can be injected with that warmth when we need it most.
"For the first time I realized that some things only flowed one direction and never looped around again. You move ahead and the weight of the universe rolls with you. It swallows up the past. If I turned back, it wouldn’t be the same house and I wouldn’t be the same kid. I could almost feel it change. Some fork had split and I now walked through an entirely different world."
Faulkner said, "Perhaps it is in the instant that we realize, admit, that there is a logical pattern to evil, that we die". That death is in this book. Not just a physical one; but a death of an outlook, of a way of seeing the world and ourselves. A death that you never know is coming until it arrives one summer day and you're never the same.
There is a passage where Blackwell is talking about that very thing: "Lou asked later if I’d heard the coyotes yipping and howling all night long and I said I didn’t hear a thing, even though it was a lie. I knew Mama had been right, that nature had its own way of taking care of things. I knew I lived in a world where innocent things lived and suffered and died, even though I wished it wasn’t so. Maisy knew it too, though she fought it with everything she had."
Hard Mountain Clay is in conversation with Sling Blade and The Death Of Sweet Mister and To Become A Whale. All are stories about that change of a life and the loss of innocence. They talk about what Masculinity is and the expectations of it and what happens when you don't fit inside the box other people have built for you.
C.W. Blackwell tells his story with all the grit and weight of William Gay and the heart of John Steinbeck. Hard Mountain Clay is here to break hearts and, in its own way, help pick up the pieces.
Interview with the Author
J: Would you mind giving an introduction to the people who may be unfamiliar with you or your work?
CW: I’m a fiction writer from the Central Coast of California who started subbing short stories around 2016. Since then, I’ve published over fifty stories and won the Derringer Award from the Short Mystery Fiction Society in 2021. I was lucky enough to be nominated again last year. Over the past year I put out a book of poetry with Dead Fern Press (River Street Rhapsody); a folk horror novella with Nosetouch Press (Song of the Red Squire); and now a crime novella with Shotgun Honey Books (Hard Mountain Clay).
J: Who are some of your biggest writing influences?
CW: Growing up in California, I read quite a bit of John Steinbeck, so I think this was the first real connection with literature that changed the way I think about books. They had us read Of Mice and Men when I was in eighth grade and I still think about that book all the time. William Gay, Flannery O’Connor, Cormac McCarthy, Daniel Woodrell, and Dorothy Allison have also had an impact on my writing. McCarthy especially, although I have this process where I go through and de-McCarthy my writing before submitting, because nobody can write like him without sounding like they are trying to write like him. His style is just too iconic and recognizable. Although if you look for it, you can see me do the “and, and, and,” thing he does sometimes (you know what I’m talking about).
J: Some of my favorite writers are beholden to no genre. You are no stranger to mixing or hopping from one to the other. Does your process change depending on the story or do you have a routine that applies across the board? Care to give us a peak behind the curtain?
CW: My process stays pretty much the same regardless of genre. For short stories, I usually start with the title. For me, the title is the core of the whole piece. It sets the tone and vibe. Once that is in place, I’ll focus on the first sentence and make sure it has a really decent hook. I’ll usually re-write the first sentence dozens of times or more just to make sure it’s right. I give that same treatment to the first complete paragraph. After that, It’s a matter of writing toward that one really cool scene I have in mind, and then writing past it to the ending. I try to give a soft landing so there’s a little “denouement” after the climax. After that, it’s editing—and If I told you what my editing process is like, you’d probably have me committed. For longer pieces like novels and novellas, It’s a similar process, only I try to write hooks into each chapter and scene break. I also spend some time writing a rough outline so the whole project doesn’t veer off a cliff.
J: I've read in prior interviews with you that you are highly influenced by many Southern Gothic writers. William Gay stuck out as a recurring name. What from that genre speaks to you so strongly?
CW: It’s hard to describe what captivates me so much about Southern Gothic literature. I think it mostly comes down to this idea that we live on a beautiful planet with many fascinating things to observe and it's also populated by human beings who do horrible things to each other. Not all Southern Gothic is like that, but a lot of it is. There’s also a layer of nihilism on top of it, where nature has existed for eons before us and will exist for eons after us, so all of our horrible treatment towards each other has little bearing on the long arc of existence. McCarthy tends to go further, and will even bring elements of cosmic nihilism into the narrative, which I always love (although I know he’s considered more of a Gnostic). The genre also has this Faulknerian literary standard that demands very high quality work, which I find challenging and rewarding.
J: Hard Mountain Clay reminds me of two of my absolute favorite books: The Death Of Sweet Mister by Daniel Woodrell and To Become A Whale by Ben Hobson. All three are coming-of-age stories that tackle toxic masculinity, trauma, and the weight of family. Did you plan on touching those topics or did it just come out with the story? Or am I just a crazy person working out my own baggage through your work?
CW: You’re not crazy. In fact, when I was thinking of writing Hard Mountain Clay from a first-person POV, I wasn’t sure it would work until I revisited Woodrell’s masterpiece and found inspiration there. It’s one of my favorite books, too. I think many of us have known a guy like Red or Lou Holt. I certainly did. But one thing you’ll notice in Hard Mountain Clay is that Lou never actually hits the kids. This was intentional to show that being afraid of someone in your life is enough to induce some pretty major trauma. Fear and intimidation takes a heavy toll on kids, even in the absence of physical abuse. A guy like Lou smacked me around when I was a kid—but it was the constant fear that really fucked me up.
J: Your work is incredibly economical. No unneeded words, no filler, and I feel like no time is wasted. Do you think your experience as a poet has benefited you in that regard?
CW: Yes, absolutely. I think reading and writing poetry can be very helpful to fiction writers. Some folks think of fiction as “poetic” when it’s full of long-winded descriptions and purple language, but I don’t think that’s quite fair. Poetry teaches you to select every word with intention. Even the word “the” is agonized over. It teaches you to whittle away the tiny words you don’t really need and make the remaining words count. I’m not saying every sentence should be as short as possible. I just like to make sentences the length they need to be to achieve a certain rhythm—and no longer. Poetry also teaches you to experiment with language, which I always find refreshing. Octavio Paz has a strong influence on my writing, as does Robinson Jeffers, Lynda Hull, and Julianne Buchsbaum. Check them out if they're not already on your radar!
J: Now that Hard Mountain Clay has come and broken all of our hearts; what can we expect to see next from you?
CW: I finished a crime novel last month and I’m just about done editing it. Prepare to get your heart broken all over again! I need an agent for this one, so I’m now sending out queries, which is something I’ve never done before. I’m also outlining another novel, and this one will be tricky. The plot revolves around the single craziest thing that’s ever happened in my hometown and I have to get it right. So it’s a mixture of true crime and fiction. I’m also continuing to write short stories here and there. I’d really like to put a collection of crime fiction stories together in the next year or so. I’m looking forward to going through and polishing everything and pulling together my favorite stories for the book!
A Review of C.W. Blackwell's
Hard Mountain Clay
(Followed by an interview with the author.)
By Justin Lee
"Hard Mountain Clay will change you."
That front cover blurb by Meagan Lucas grabbed me. Not just because it's, well, a stunner of a blurb. It grabbed me because of the implications of it. It's atypical of what most people say about books. Change. Hard Mountain Clay is all about that. Throughout this novella we get to see that thing that molds people. That change that all good stories should depict but only those rare few do. The one that shapes a life.
To talk about the plot of this story in detail would be a shame. It's one to be experienced, not spoiled. So, I'll be brief with it:
Hard Mountain Clay follows siblings Ben and Maisey as they navigate the aftermath of a horrific hit-and-run involving their mother, Carolyn, a waitress grappling with a heroin addiction, and her meth smoking, tow truck driving, boyfriend Lou Holt. Ben and Maisey are sent down a Night of the Hunter-esque spiral as they try to make their way through whole.
Ben reminds me a lot of the character of Frank from the film, Sling Blade. A boy who, "lives inside of his own heart". Ben feels everything with a depth that comes with childhood. A depth that, once you experience more of the world, grows shallower. It makes the bad times hit so hard. But the good times? Those days your mama makes cupcakes for breakfast? Those days feel like magic. It's a horrible thing to lose. It's that change Meagan was talking about in her blurb. The loss of innocence that so many stories are written about. The loss that so many of us can only hope to catch a piece of later in life so that our days can be injected with that warmth when we need it most.
"For the first time I realized that some things only flowed one direction and never looped around again. You move ahead and the weight of the universe rolls with you. It swallows up the past. If I turned back, it wouldn’t be the same house and I wouldn’t be the same kid. I could almost feel it change. Some fork had split and I now walked through an entirely different world."
Faulkner said, "Perhaps it is in the instant that we realize, admit, that there is a logical pattern to evil, that we die". That death is in this book. Not just a physical one; but a death of an outlook, of a way of seeing the world and ourselves. A death that you never know is coming until it arrives one summer day and you're never the same.
There is a passage where Blackwell is talking about that very thing: "Lou asked later if I’d heard the coyotes yipping and howling all night long and I said I didn’t hear a thing, even though it was a lie. I knew Mama had been right, that nature had its own way of taking care of things. I knew I lived in a world where innocent things lived and suffered and died, even though I wished it wasn’t so. Maisy knew it too, though she fought it with everything she had."
Hard Mountain Clay is in conversation with Sling Blade and The Death Of Sweet Mister and To Become A Whale. All are stories about that change of a life and the loss of innocence. They talk about what Masculinity is and the expectations of it and what happens when you don't fit inside the box other people have built for you.
C.W. Blackwell tells his story with all the grit and weight of William Gay and the heart of John Steinbeck. Hard Mountain Clay is here to break hearts and, in its own way, help pick up the pieces.
Interview with the Author
J: Would you mind giving an introduction to the people who may be unfamiliar with you or your work?
CW: I’m a fiction writer from the Central Coast of California who started subbing short stories around 2016. Since then, I’ve published over fifty stories and won the Derringer Award from the Short Mystery Fiction Society in 2021. I was lucky enough to be nominated again last year. Over the past year I put out a book of poetry with Dead Fern Press (River Street Rhapsody); a folk horror novella with Nosetouch Press (Song of the Red Squire); and now a crime novella with Shotgun Honey Books (Hard Mountain Clay).
J: Who are some of your biggest writing influences?
CW: Growing up in California, I read quite a bit of John Steinbeck, so I think this was the first real connection with literature that changed the way I think about books. They had us read Of Mice and Men when I was in eighth grade and I still think about that book all the time. William Gay, Flannery O’Connor, Cormac McCarthy, Daniel Woodrell, and Dorothy Allison have also had an impact on my writing. McCarthy especially, although I have this process where I go through and de-McCarthy my writing before submitting, because nobody can write like him without sounding like they are trying to write like him. His style is just too iconic and recognizable. Although if you look for it, you can see me do the “and, and, and,” thing he does sometimes (you know what I’m talking about).
J: Some of my favorite writers are beholden to no genre. You are no stranger to mixing or hopping from one to the other. Does your process change depending on the story or do you have a routine that applies across the board? Care to give us a peak behind the curtain?
CW: My process stays pretty much the same regardless of genre. For short stories, I usually start with the title. For me, the title is the core of the whole piece. It sets the tone and vibe. Once that is in place, I’ll focus on the first sentence and make sure it has a really decent hook. I’ll usually re-write the first sentence dozens of times or more just to make sure it’s right. I give that same treatment to the first complete paragraph. After that, It’s a matter of writing toward that one really cool scene I have in mind, and then writing past it to the ending. I try to give a soft landing so there’s a little “denouement” after the climax. After that, it’s editing—and If I told you what my editing process is like, you’d probably have me committed. For longer pieces like novels and novellas, It’s a similar process, only I try to write hooks into each chapter and scene break. I also spend some time writing a rough outline so the whole project doesn’t veer off a cliff.
J: I've read in prior interviews with you that you are highly influenced by many Southern Gothic writers. William Gay stuck out as a recurring name. What from that genre speaks to you so strongly?
CW: It’s hard to describe what captivates me so much about Southern Gothic literature. I think it mostly comes down to this idea that we live on a beautiful planet with many fascinating things to observe and it's also populated by human beings who do horrible things to each other. Not all Southern Gothic is like that, but a lot of it is. There’s also a layer of nihilism on top of it, where nature has existed for eons before us and will exist for eons after us, so all of our horrible treatment towards each other has little bearing on the long arc of existence. McCarthy tends to go further, and will even bring elements of cosmic nihilism into the narrative, which I always love (although I know he’s considered more of a Gnostic). The genre also has this Faulknerian literary standard that demands very high quality work, which I find challenging and rewarding.
J: Hard Mountain Clay reminds me of two of my absolute favorite books: The Death Of Sweet Mister by Daniel Woodrell and To Become A Whale by Ben Hobson. All three are coming-of-age stories that tackle toxic masculinity, trauma, and the weight of family. Did you plan on touching those topics or did it just come out with the story? Or am I just a crazy person working out my own baggage through your work?
CW: You’re not crazy. In fact, when I was thinking of writing Hard Mountain Clay from a first-person POV, I wasn’t sure it would work until I revisited Woodrell’s masterpiece and found inspiration there. It’s one of my favorite books, too. I think many of us have known a guy like Red or Lou Holt. I certainly did. But one thing you’ll notice in Hard Mountain Clay is that Lou never actually hits the kids. This was intentional to show that being afraid of someone in your life is enough to induce some pretty major trauma. Fear and intimidation takes a heavy toll on kids, even in the absence of physical abuse. A guy like Lou smacked me around when I was a kid—but it was the constant fear that really fucked me up.
J: Your work is incredibly economical. No unneeded words, no filler, and I feel like no time is wasted. Do you think your experience as a poet has benefited you in that regard?
CW: Yes, absolutely. I think reading and writing poetry can be very helpful to fiction writers. Some folks think of fiction as “poetic” when it’s full of long-winded descriptions and purple language, but I don’t think that’s quite fair. Poetry teaches you to select every word with intention. Even the word “the” is agonized over. It teaches you to whittle away the tiny words you don’t really need and make the remaining words count. I’m not saying every sentence should be as short as possible. I just like to make sentences the length they need to be to achieve a certain rhythm—and no longer. Poetry also teaches you to experiment with language, which I always find refreshing. Octavio Paz has a strong influence on my writing, as does Robinson Jeffers, Lynda Hull, and Julianne Buchsbaum. Check them out if they're not already on your radar!
J: Now that Hard Mountain Clay has come and broken all of our hearts; what can we expect to see next from you?
CW: I finished a crime novel last month and I’m just about done editing it. Prepare to get your heart broken all over again! I need an agent for this one, so I’m now sending out queries, which is something I’ve never done before. I’m also outlining another novel, and this one will be tricky. The plot revolves around the single craziest thing that’s ever happened in my hometown and I have to get it right. So it’s a mixture of true crime and fiction. I’m also continuing to write short stories here and there. I’d really like to put a collection of crime fiction stories together in the next year or so. I’m looking forward to going through and polishing everything and pulling together my favorite stories for the book!