“When I was not quite three, I got drunk. That was the first thing I remember in my whole life.”

And so we are inaugurated into the backwoods saga of Bob Childress, unlikely minister to the clans of Appalachia during the mid-twentieth century.  The Man Who Moved a Mountain  is a bona-fide, old-fashioned biography. Without the artist’s license to smooth the quirks and lulls of real life, it does tend toward ungainliness at times, but the story of this drunkard-turned-blacksmith-turned-deputy-turned-preacher is worth it.

Admittedly, I am partial to both Appalachian culture and ministers with a past — but aren’t we all drawn to a good transformation story?

Almost 20 years ago, I cherry picked this yellowed paperback from the Decatur Presbyterian church book sale along with some other long-forgotten treasures. Once I finally dusted it off (five? six years later?), it became a regular in my bi-annual literary rotation. I recommend reading it in the fall, with a cider.

You might luck into your own copy at a rummage sale (particularly a Presbyterian one), but just in case, there are plenty of copies still available here: The Man Who Moved a Mountain.

Enjoy. (And remember to keep the moonshine away from the toddlers).

Happy Reading,

Emily