Appalachian Prison Book Project Fall 2017 News

Dear APBPers,

Summer afternoons at the Aull Center found four of volunteers collaborating closely: West Virginia University graduate students Katie Volgelphol, Emilie Shumway, and Beth Staley and Villanova University student Corina Scott. Together, they focused on cleaning out the Aull Center, sending books, setting goals for continued progress, and planning to work with the women’s book club at Hazelton.

Katie’s organizational skills revitalized the space of the Aull Center, and she made it possible for APBP to recycle nearly 100 boxes of books. “It took 8 long, dusty, grimy, messy days of sorting, organizing and recycling, but the Aull Center now looks better than ever,” Katie explains. “Matching books is faster and easier now that the shelves are free from clutter, and,” she adds, “a number of forgotten gems were found hidden within the piles of books. Through the clean-out, we were able to take a much better inventory of what APBP currently has and truly needs.”

When it came to sending books, nobody was as dedicated as Corina who took genuine care with each step of the process. “I love reading letters, I love matching, and I even came to love wrapping,” she admits before describing the experience on a deeper level: “I love to get a sense of who someone is through the literature they request in a letter.” When Corina places a wrapped book in a USPS bin, she knows that that’s the beginning not the end of the book-sending cycle. She says, “I like to imagine the person reading the book. I like to believe the books are connecting us, a bridge between me and someone I have never met but would like to know.”

Emilie kept her eye on a lot of details. She developed a handy guide to the names of all the institutions we send books to, and she’s ready to keep upgrading our level of efficiency. “The word about APBP seems to have spread widely,” she says, adding that “we're even getting letters now from regional jails.” Emilie is hopeful that we’ll “engage enough volunteers to increase our turnaround time, so each letter is answered within a week or two of our receiving it. I also hope we can do more specific book drives, to help us stockpile some of the books people request the most (how-to, self-help, authors like James Patterson, etc.).”

Beth looks forward to preparing writing workshops for the women’s book club at Hazelton. She has begun copyediting a manuscript collection of their writing that, she admits, “made me want to write creatively again.” Beth goes on: “To compelling descriptions of the world, these writers have added compelling perspectives that can help us make it better.”

In closing, Katie has a few words for all the volunteers who helped us out: “I was blown away at the number of people who went out of their way to assist APBP. Whether it was the volunteers who came and worked through the week and on the weekends or the many people who mailed and dropped off book donations, the project received constant support.”

In Gratitude,

Katie, Corina, Emilie, and Beth

Books can do so much. They can teach empathy, reduce stress, provide mental stimulation, increase knowledge and vocabulary, improve memory, help develop critical thinking skills, entertain, inspire hope, and so much more. These skills are imperative, especially to those of us who are disenfranchised in some way. But I think more important than any of that is a book’s ability to provide an escape from this world into another.

“In these few seconds, I have lived a lifetime.” – Haunting of Hill House, by Shirley Jackson

While Eleanor, the protagonist of Haunting of Hill House, is not talking about reading, she might as well be.

“When you read a book, you leave prison for awhile,” reads one correspondence received by Appalachian Prison Book Project. It was letters like these from people in prison looking for an escape from their reality that first drew me to APBP in 2015.

Books have long been my escape, too, not from a physical prison, but from a mental one. It’s hard to put into words what books have done for me and how they’ve helped to alleviate the symptoms of my anxiety disorder, but this correspondence does it well: “It’s wonderful to receive a book to lift the darkness away.”

It is hard, too, to grapple with the idea that the letter writer and I are not so unalike, but that one of us doesn’t get to go home at night. I am reminded of Conor Oberst’s Desert Island Questionnaire song lyrics: “I don’t know what it means when he takes my pulse and says that I’m a lot like him.”

We share a moment with that letter as I scour our collection of donated materials at the Aull Center and hand-select a new title to lift the darkness away. I handwrite him a note and wrap and address his parcel and send it away. Doesn’t he, too, deserve to live a lifetime?

Corina Scott in the Aull Center, Summer 2017

APBP President Yvonne Hammond, Fall 2017

As an APBP intern last spring, I was eager to get involved with the women's book club at Hazelton, but nervous too. How could I prepare? Should we provide discussion questions, secondary readings? Are there strategies for moderating? Does someone lecture?

“We aren’t really there to teach,” Katy told me, “Our role is to create the space and bring resources, like books and paper, to them.” Still, driving out past snowy fields, passing through metal detectors and automatic gates flanked by guards and two way mirrors, I was nervous. Many of the more senior members of the club had been transferred or released, so our circle was small, filled with new faces. Early on though, I knew not to worry.

When we discussed Kazuo Ishiguro’s dystopian novel, Never Let Me Go, the women leapt into action. They debated characters and plot structure; they posed questions and dove back and forth between book pages and stories from their own lives, like gorgeous sea creatures. Later, prompted by Octavia Butler’s Kindred, Katy asked, “What do you need to pack with you to survive?” And I realized how these novels, poems, and short stories were transformed in these women’s hands into tools—not unlike paper clips and flashlights—to survive in the world.

I had photocopying duties, some organizing and collecting and typing to do, but the book club’s value happened in the room, fueling my APBP activities and inspiring me to reach out to others about ABPB’s mission. The women at Hazelton solidified for me the worth in all people and the need to cultivate opportunities for all people to flourish. Each meeting left me further committed, and eager to return. Best yet, as our discussions continued from losses and reunions to activism, buddhism, and police violence, the sense of “us” and “them” melted away. Emerging was a curious, kind, apprehensive, brave, encouraging, funny we. It’s summer now, but I am still thinking about this dynamic, wise we. Maybe this we is the response to our dystopian present. The we— like the double heads of playing cards, somersaulting between asking and answering, a Swiss army knife of voices and visions— is our way to survive.

A Letter From APBP

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Volunteer Jordan Carter

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