The Prince of Frogtown

Starred review from March 3, 2008
Bragg (All Over but the Shoutin'
) continues to mine his East Alabama family history for stories, this time focusing on the life of his alcoholic father. Unlike his previous two memoirs, Bragg merges his father's history of severe hardships and simple joys with a tale from the present: his own relationship with his 10-year-old stepson. Bragg crafts flowing sentences that vividly describe the southern Appalachian landscape and ways of life both old and new. The title comes from his father, who grew up in the mill village in Jacksonville, Ala., a dirt-poor neighborhood known as Frogtown, a place where they didn't bother to name the streets, but simply assigned letters. His father's story walks the line between humorous and heartbreaking, mixing tales of tipping over outhouses as a child and stealing an alligator from a roadside show in Florida with the stark tragedies of drunkenness, brawling, dog fighting, chain gangs, meanness and his early death from tuberculosis. Juxtaposed with vignettes about Bragg's stepson, this memoir has great perspective as the reader sees Bragg, the son of a dysfunctional father who grew up very poor, grapple with becoming the father of a modern-day mama's boy. This book, much like his previous two memoirs, is lush with narratives about manhood, fathers and sons, families and the changing face of the rural South.

Starred review from June 30, 2008
In reading his latest autobiographical title, which alternates between the rough-and-tumble rural South of his origins and the contemporary suburban South of his preteen stepson, Bragg smoothly invokes colloquial pronunciations such as the dropping of the “g” sound in “ing” words. In the hands of any other narrator besides the author, such touches would seem stilted, but Bragg brings sincerity and dignity to the proceedings. He demonstrates a knack for building dramatic tension in presenting his narrative, holding back serious emotional fire for the most pivotal confrontations. One particularly memorable dialogue centers on his father's participation in the brutal sport of dog fighting and how one fateful act of alcohol-fueled desperation forever altered the family dynamic. In coming to terms with the cushy 21st-century existence of “the boy,” Bragg poignantly recounts a surprising exchange between his stepson and a less fortunate family at a roadside fast-food restaurant. As he straddles two contrasting identities, Bragg remains unafraid to demonstrate his vulnerability, and this nuanced performance perfectly matches the themes of his work. A Knopf hardcover (Reviews, Mar. 3).