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Salvation on Sand Mountain: Snake Handling and Redemption in Southern Appalachia by Dennis Covington
bsquiggle's review against another edition
adventurous
challenging
emotional
informative
reflective
fast-paced
3.75
medzik's review against another edition
3.0
Meh, jakoś wymęczyłam.
Nie jest to zły reportaż, ale czytałam lepsze. Po prostu trochę mnie nudził, ta historia spokojnie mogłaby być dłuższym artykułem, czy może godzinnym filmem dokumentalnym.
Ale duży plus za okładkę - fajne zdjęcie i piękny kolor z boku, bardzo mi się podoba.
Nie jest to zły reportaż, ale czytałam lepsze. Po prostu trochę mnie nudził, ta historia spokojnie mogłaby być dłuższym artykułem, czy może godzinnym filmem dokumentalnym.
Ale duży plus za okładkę - fajne zdjęcie i piękny kolor z boku, bardzo mi się podoba.
ridgewaygirl's review against another edition
5.0
"What about Darlene?"
"When she was really living right, she drank it," he said.
When she was really living right, she drank poison. What a peculiar idea, the journalist in me thought. But who was I to judge?
The story begins when Dennis Covington, a freelance journalist, is asked to write an article about a trial taking place in nearby Scottsboro, Alabama, in which a preacher stands accused of trying to kill his wife with the venomous snakes he uses in his church services. Covington's coverage of this lurid story is the least interesting thing in Salvation on Sand Mountain: Snake Handling and Redemption in Southern Appalachia, but it forms Covington's introduction to a little known and oft-mocked sect of Pentecostal Christianity.
Snake handling began, not as a practice of the people living in the Appalachians, but when they came out of the mountains to work in the mill towns on either side of the range. Confronted with an alien culture, they fell back on their faith, creating their own version of Christianity. The first episode of snake handling occurred in 1910 and while the churches that practice it range from the Florida panhandle up into Ohio, the number of worshippers is small. They also drink poison and handle fire, but the focus is on the snakes, the rattlesnakes and copperheads and even cobras that they collect, keeping them in sheds or even in aquariums set on the kitchen counter.
It might seem odd that this small, tightly knit community would open their doors to Covington, who is clear about his occupation and about his intention to write about them, often bringing photographers with him to church services. But they believe as strongly (and probably much more so) in their version of the truth as any other believer. They are willing to travel for hundreds of miles several times a week to attend services in small, tucked away churches in forgotten communities all along the edges of Appalachia. And Covington is respectful and interested in their beliefs. So interested that he becomes, for a time, one of them, like an anthropologist joining in the private ceremonies of a remote tribe.
Snake handling isn't a safe practice, and there are few who haven't been bit, many more than once. Some seek medical help, but most don't and most have relatives who were killed by snakes. The snakes themselves don't fare much better. Snake handling isn't gentle, and the snakes aren't designed to be roughly shaken and jostled. Few last longer than a few months.
She had a video, though, of herself and others holding their arms and legs in the flame of the kerosene-soaked wick. That's what she was doing one July night after she'd sworn she'd never handle rattlesnakes in July again. She'd been bit the previous two Julys. "I decided I'd just handle fire and drink strychnine that night," she said.
Good idea, I thought. It always pays to be on the safe side.
The problem arose as Gracie tried to handle the fire with her feet. She lost her balance and fell on top of three serpent boxes. "I crawled on my knees and got every one of them serpents out," she said. "My friends said, 'Gracie, you said you wasn't gonna handle serpents tonight,' and I said, 'I wouldn't if I hadn't gotten in the fire.'"
It all came to an end a few years after he met those members of the Church of Jesus with Signs Following. The rapid inclusion of an outsider into a group of only a few hundred people, many of whom were related, caused a certain amount of friction. The connection was broken, finally, when he was asked to speak at one service and stepped over a line by contradicting the previous sermon, by his mentor, who railed against women, saying, A woman's got to stay in her place! God made her helpmeet to man! It wasn't intended for her to have a life of her own! If God had wanted to give her a life of her own, he'd have made her first instead of Adam, and then where would we be!" Covington counters that by reminding him that, after his resurrection, Jesus appeared first to a woman, who brought the news to the remaining disciples, making her the first evangelist. And, with that, his time with them came to its end.
At the height of it all...I had actually pictured myself preaching out of my car with a Bible, a trunkload of rattlesnakes, and a megaphone. I had wondered what it would be like to hand rattlesnakes to my wife and daughters. I had imagined getting bit and surviving. I had imagined getting bit and not surviving. I had thought about what my last words would be. It sounds funny now. It wasn't always funny at the time.
"When she was really living right, she drank it," he said.
When she was really living right, she drank poison. What a peculiar idea, the journalist in me thought. But who was I to judge?
The story begins when Dennis Covington, a freelance journalist, is asked to write an article about a trial taking place in nearby Scottsboro, Alabama, in which a preacher stands accused of trying to kill his wife with the venomous snakes he uses in his church services. Covington's coverage of this lurid story is the least interesting thing in Salvation on Sand Mountain: Snake Handling and Redemption in Southern Appalachia, but it forms Covington's introduction to a little known and oft-mocked sect of Pentecostal Christianity.
Snake handling began, not as a practice of the people living in the Appalachians, but when they came out of the mountains to work in the mill towns on either side of the range. Confronted with an alien culture, they fell back on their faith, creating their own version of Christianity. The first episode of snake handling occurred in 1910 and while the churches that practice it range from the Florida panhandle up into Ohio, the number of worshippers is small. They also drink poison and handle fire, but the focus is on the snakes, the rattlesnakes and copperheads and even cobras that they collect, keeping them in sheds or even in aquariums set on the kitchen counter.
It might seem odd that this small, tightly knit community would open their doors to Covington, who is clear about his occupation and about his intention to write about them, often bringing photographers with him to church services. But they believe as strongly (and probably much more so) in their version of the truth as any other believer. They are willing to travel for hundreds of miles several times a week to attend services in small, tucked away churches in forgotten communities all along the edges of Appalachia. And Covington is respectful and interested in their beliefs. So interested that he becomes, for a time, one of them, like an anthropologist joining in the private ceremonies of a remote tribe.
Snake handling isn't a safe practice, and there are few who haven't been bit, many more than once. Some seek medical help, but most don't and most have relatives who were killed by snakes. The snakes themselves don't fare much better. Snake handling isn't gentle, and the snakes aren't designed to be roughly shaken and jostled. Few last longer than a few months.
She had a video, though, of herself and others holding their arms and legs in the flame of the kerosene-soaked wick. That's what she was doing one July night after she'd sworn she'd never handle rattlesnakes in July again. She'd been bit the previous two Julys. "I decided I'd just handle fire and drink strychnine that night," she said.
Good idea, I thought. It always pays to be on the safe side.
The problem arose as Gracie tried to handle the fire with her feet. She lost her balance and fell on top of three serpent boxes. "I crawled on my knees and got every one of them serpents out," she said. "My friends said, 'Gracie, you said you wasn't gonna handle serpents tonight,' and I said, 'I wouldn't if I hadn't gotten in the fire.'"
It all came to an end a few years after he met those members of the Church of Jesus with Signs Following. The rapid inclusion of an outsider into a group of only a few hundred people, many of whom were related, caused a certain amount of friction. The connection was broken, finally, when he was asked to speak at one service and stepped over a line by contradicting the previous sermon, by his mentor, who railed against women, saying, A woman's got to stay in her place! God made her helpmeet to man! It wasn't intended for her to have a life of her own! If God had wanted to give her a life of her own, he'd have made her first instead of Adam, and then where would we be!" Covington counters that by reminding him that, after his resurrection, Jesus appeared first to a woman, who brought the news to the remaining disciples, making her the first evangelist. And, with that, his time with them came to its end.
At the height of it all...I had actually pictured myself preaching out of my car with a Bible, a trunkload of rattlesnakes, and a megaphone. I had wondered what it would be like to hand rattlesnakes to my wife and daughters. I had imagined getting bit and surviving. I had imagined getting bit and not surviving. I had thought about what my last words would be. It sounds funny now. It wasn't always funny at the time.
lavoiture's review against another edition
4.0
I'd give this a 3.5 if I could, actually. I have been wanting to read this book for over a year, and I wasn't disappointed, but I wasn't as over-the-moon about it as I thought I'd be. It was very interesting to read about the snake handlers, but not as interesting as I wanted it to be. Still, I really want to drive out to WVA and find some snake handling churches. They sound fascinating!
arielamandah's review against another edition
4.0
I enjoyed this book. It's actually embedded itself in my brain a little since I read it, but with that in mind, I enjoyed it with some MAJOR caveats and concerns.
Realistically, for me, it was more like a 3 1/2 star rating.
So, know that I enjoyed it with the following parentheses...
I thought the book felt a little too "pulp-y." I think it was definitely voyeuristic, and did pander to the side of all of our personalities that likes to relish in the odd, obscure, and weird.
As I read it, I also found myself fairly critical of how close the author was to his subject. On the one hand, it provided a little credibility when he discussed what it was like to take up a snake himself, on the other, it made me question how reliable and indifferent he could possibly be to the subject. It also glossed over many of the tough points about a very conservative religious group - many of the ideas and tenants that folks will take exception to - without too much explanation. I think that, if you're going to put yourself that close to a subject, as a journalist, then you run into almost "editorial" territory. Once you get there, I think you owe it to your readers a greater explanation of how you found yourself justifying or coping with the contradictions and challenges presented to you as a participant in this sort of scenario (how do you ignore the issue of women in the church, for instance? The author "preached" against their disenfranchisement, but at the same time, to participate so long, he tacitly went along with it, too).
Finally - I struggle a little with this book as one that goes "slumming" a little (for lack of a more generous term). Well-traveled, NYT author, with the "correct" sort of educated credentials goes into small, poor Appalachia to write a book about how weird all those poor snake handlers are. It seems a little... inappropriate.
Anyhow, in the end, though, despite those concerns, I did thoroughly enjoy it. It was a quick read and a curious trip into a area and culture very, very different from my own. Glad to have read.
Realistically, for me, it was more like a 3 1/2 star rating.
So, know that I enjoyed it with the following parentheses...
I thought the book felt a little too "pulp-y." I think it was definitely voyeuristic, and did pander to the side of all of our personalities that likes to relish in the odd, obscure, and weird.
As I read it, I also found myself fairly critical of how close the author was to his subject. On the one hand, it provided a little credibility when he discussed what it was like to take up a snake himself, on the other, it made me question how reliable and indifferent he could possibly be to the subject. It also glossed over many of the tough points about a very conservative religious group - many of the ideas and tenants that folks will take exception to - without too much explanation. I think that, if you're going to put yourself that close to a subject, as a journalist, then you run into almost "editorial" territory. Once you get there, I think you owe it to your readers a greater explanation of how you found yourself justifying or coping with the contradictions and challenges presented to you as a participant in this sort of scenario (how do you ignore the issue of women in the church, for instance? The author "preached" against their disenfranchisement, but at the same time, to participate so long, he tacitly went along with it, too).
Finally - I struggle a little with this book as one that goes "slumming" a little (for lack of a more generous term). Well-traveled, NYT author, with the "correct" sort of educated credentials goes into small, poor Appalachia to write a book about how weird all those poor snake handlers are. It seems a little... inappropriate.
Anyhow, in the end, though, despite those concerns, I did thoroughly enjoy it. It was a quick read and a curious trip into a area and culture very, very different from my own. Glad to have read.
wmapayne's review
2.0
Salvation on Sand Mountain is the fascinating personal account of a journalist who was caught up in the world of snake handling and Southern folk spirituality. The book is remarkable for its suspended judgment, and thus offers a truly unique perspective on an oft-maligned religious movement. Covington refuses to rationalize or pathologize the behaviors of the people in the churches he visits, an admirable decision. However, this book still disturbs my inner social scientist because of how Covington alternates between the dispassionate character of a reporter and the engaged, uncritical character of a participant. He uses real names in the book, which would make it seem more like a memoir, but he also does extensive background research and uses anthropological techniques to analyze his subjects. This combination seems inappropriate given the socially stigmatized position of most of the subjects of this book.
maryehavens's review against another edition
5.0
A reporter, drawn to danger, camps out with some snake handlers on assignment to cover a trial. Throughout the process, he uncovers his own history and religious ideology. Fascinating peek into a life that I will never know.
briandice's review against another edition
5.0
"There are moments when you stand on the brink of a new experience and understand that you have no choice about it. Either you walk into the experience or you turn away from it, but you know that no matter what you choose, you will have altered your life in a permanent way. Either way, there will be consequences."
-Dennis Covington, "Salvation on Sand Mountain"
I'll admit to being hardwired to loving journalist non-fiction books - the ones where the author can't help but become part of the story they are trying to objectively write as an outsider. Thompson's "Hells Angels", Wade Davis's "The Serpent and the Rainbow", or even the surprisingly entrancing "Positively Fifth Street" by McManus are all fantastic books and representative of the genre. Similar to Covington (and the fantastic paragraph I've quoted above), the author / journalist recognizes that they are on the precipice of life changing events brought about by their subject matter. Anthony Loyd's "My War Gone By, I Miss It So" (one of my favorite non-fiction books of the past few years) parallels Covington's experience in the American South; Loyd's time covering the Balkan conflagration in the '90s as a journalist transformed him permanently. In all of these great books we get to walk in the shoes of these authors and experience what they do in a down-the-rabbit-hole, scene by scene telling of a tale that results in something better than fiction.
Covington's writing style and word choice is simple, compelling and perfectly matched to the rhythmic story line of an American sub-culture that reads like a discarded Hollywood script. He never pulls any punches, but neither does he take cheap shots. His subject matter is so real to him that its pull is overpowering, even tripping an atavistic response in his character so deep that it sends him on soul searching quest through his genealogy to understand more about why he is sucked into the story of snake handling backwoods Christians.
Please, read this book - take the ride, and enjoy Covington's journey. It is worth the trip.
And thanks to Petra X for a fabulous recommendation!!
"Knowing where you come from is one thing, but it's suicide to stay there." - Covington
-Dennis Covington, "Salvation on Sand Mountain"
I'll admit to being hardwired to loving journalist non-fiction books - the ones where the author can't help but become part of the story they are trying to objectively write as an outsider. Thompson's "Hells Angels", Wade Davis's "The Serpent and the Rainbow", or even the surprisingly entrancing "Positively Fifth Street" by McManus are all fantastic books and representative of the genre. Similar to Covington (and the fantastic paragraph I've quoted above), the author / journalist recognizes that they are on the precipice of life changing events brought about by their subject matter. Anthony Loyd's "My War Gone By, I Miss It So" (one of my favorite non-fiction books of the past few years) parallels Covington's experience in the American South; Loyd's time covering the Balkan conflagration in the '90s as a journalist transformed him permanently. In all of these great books we get to walk in the shoes of these authors and experience what they do in a down-the-rabbit-hole, scene by scene telling of a tale that results in something better than fiction.
Covington's writing style and word choice is simple, compelling and perfectly matched to the rhythmic story line of an American sub-culture that reads like a discarded Hollywood script. He never pulls any punches, but neither does he take cheap shots. His subject matter is so real to him that its pull is overpowering, even tripping an atavistic response in his character so deep that it sends him on soul searching quest through his genealogy to understand more about why he is sucked into the story of snake handling backwoods Christians.
Please, read this book - take the ride, and enjoy Covington's journey. It is worth the trip.
And thanks to Petra X for a fabulous recommendation!!
"Knowing where you come from is one thing, but it's suicide to stay there." - Covington