Introduction

"***NEW YORK TIMES & USA TODAY BESTSELLER - HAVE NO SHAME***
Amazon's HOT NEW RELEASE in HISTORICAL FICTION & COMING OF AGE from BESTSELLING, AWARD-WINNING author MELISSA FOSTER
GOLD MEDAL, Southern Fiction, READERS' FAVORITE AWARD FINALIST, Historical Fiction, READERS' FAVORITE AWARD

* Book Club Recommendation * Contact author Melissa Foster to Skype with your book club.

Where civil rights and forbidden love collide...

The racially-charged prejudice of the deep South forces eighteen-year-old Alison Tillman to confront societal norms--and her own beliefs--when she discovers the body of a hate crime victim, and the specter of forbidden love turns her safe, comfortable world upside down. A meaningful combination of romantic suspense and coming of age at its very best.

""This book will resonate with readers who enjoyed Kathryn Stockett's, THE HELP, Julie Kibler's, CALLING ME HOME, John Grisham's, A TIME TO KILL, Sue Monk Kidd's, THE SECRET LIFE OF BEES, and Kathleen Grissom's, THE KITCHEN HOUSE.""

PLEASE NOTE: This book contains TWO versions of this novel. Readers have the option to read with or without the southern dialect in the narrative (two versions, one novel, one purchase). Both versions reflect the exact same story, with the only difference being the style of the narrative.

SUMMARY
Alison Tillman has called Forrest Town, Arkansas home for the past eighteen years. Her mother's Blue Bonnet meetings, her father toiling night and day on the family farm, and the division of life between the whites and the blacks are all Alison knows. The winter of 1967, just a few months before marrying her high school sweetheart, Alison finds the body of a black man floating in the river, and she begins to view her existence with new perspective. The oppression and hate of the south, the ugliness she once was able to avert her eyes from, now demands her attention.

When a secretive friendship with a young black man takes an unexpected romantic turn, Alison is forced to choose between her predetermined future, and the dangerous path that her heart yearns for."

Editorial Review

No editorial review at this time.

Excerpt

Chapter One

It was the end of winter 1967, my father was preparing the fields for planting, the Vietnam War was in full swing, and spring was peeking its pretty head around the corner. The cypress trees stood tall and bare, like sentinels watching over the St. Francis River. The bugs arrived early, thick and hungry, circling my head like it was a big juicy vein as I walked across the rocks toward the water.

My legs pled with me to jump from rock to rock, like I used to do with my older sister, Maggie, who’s now away at college. I hummed my new favorite song, Penny Lane, and continued walking instead of jumping because that’s what’s expected of me. I could just hear Daddy admonishing me, “You’re eighteen now, a grown up. Grown ups don’t jump across rocks.” Even if no one’s watching me at the moment, I wouldn’t want to disappoint Daddy. If Maggie were here, she’d jump. She might even get me to jump. But alone? No way.

The river usually smelled of sulfur and fish, with an underlying hint of desperation, but today it smelled like something else all together. The rancid smell hit me like an invisible billow of smog. I covered my mouth and turned away, walking a little faster. I tried to get around the stench, thinking it was a dead animal carcass hiding beneath the rocks. I couldn’t outrun the smell, and before I knew it I was crouched five feet above the river on an outcropping of rocks, and my humming was replaced by retching and dry heaving as the stench infiltrated my throat. I peered over the edge and fear singed my nerves like thousands of needles poking me all at once. Floating beneath me was the bloated and badly beaten body of a colored man. A scream escaped my lips. I stumbled backward and fell to my knees. My entire body began to shake. I covered my mouth to keep from throwing up. I knew I should turn away, run, get help, but I could not go back the way I’d come. I was paralyzed with fear, and yet, I was strangely drawn to the bloated and ghastly figure.

I stood back up, then stumbled in my gray midi-skirt and saddle shoes as I made my way over the rocks and toward the riverbank. The silt-laden river was still beneath the floating body. A branch stretched across the river like a boney finger, snagging the bruised and beaten body by the torn trousers that clung to its waist. His bare chest and arms were so bloated that it looked as if they might pop. Trembling and gasping for breath, I lowered myself to the ground, warm tears streaming down my cheeks.

While fear sucked my breath away, an underlying curiosity poked its way through to my consciousness. I covered my eyes then, telling myself to look away. The reality that I was seeing a dead man settled into my bones like ice. Shivers rattled my body. Whose father, brother, uncle, or friend was this man? I opened my eyes again and looked at him. It’s a him, I told myself. I didn’t want to see him as just an anonymous, dead colored man. He was someone, and he mattered. My heart pounded against my ribcage with an insistence—I needed to know who he was. I’d never seen a dead man before, and even though I could barely breathe, even though I could feel his image imprinting into my brain, I would not look away. I wanted to know who had beaten him, and why. I wanted to tell his family I was sorry for their loss.

An uncontrollable urgency brought me to my feet and drew me closer, on rubber legs, to where I could see what was left of his face. A gruesome mass of flesh protruded from his mouth. His tongue had bloated and completely filled the opening, like a flesh-sock had been stuffed in the hole, stretching his lips until they tore and the raw pulp poked out. Chunks of skin were torn or bitten away from his eyes.

I don’t know how long I stood there, my legs quaking, unable to speak or turn back the way I had come. I don’t know how I got home that night, or what I said to anyone along the way. What I do know is that hearing of a colored man’s death was bad enough—I’d heard the rumors of whites beating colored men to death before—but actually seeing the man who had died, and witnessing the awful remains of the beating, now that terrified me to my core. A feeling of shame bubbled within me. For the first time ever, I was embarrassed to be white, because in Forrest Town, Arkansas, you could be fairly certain it was my people who were the cause of his death. And as a young southern woman, I knew that the expectation was for me to get married, have children, and perpetuate the hate that had been bred in our lives. My children, they’d be born into the same hateful society. That realization brought me to my knees. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

Alison Tillman followed her heart down what, at that time, was a very dangerous path. If you had been her, would you have had the courage to do the same?

There are several themes that run through Alison and Jackson’s story, such as family loyalty, courage, individuality. What other themes did you take away from HAVE NO SHAME, and what were your feelings on them?

In the end, Alison’s father stepped up to the plate to back her up, showing his ability and ideal to put his love for his children above all else. How was this similar to Alison’s decision?

Weblinks

»	Melissa Foster's web site
»	Read an Excerpt

Book Club Recommendations

Recommended to book clubs by 0 of 0 members.

Member Reviews

There are no user reviews at this time.
Rate this book