Sequel to Sitting on Top of the World
June’s new normal: Her brother is gone, her dad is gone, her mother is grieving, and June must find her place in the world. Her beau Jimmy is her only tonic. But when tragedy strikes again, she knows exactly who to blame for all her sorrows: Paul Burnett, the railroad bull who started the chain of devastation when he killed her brother. June sets out on a dangerous journey to make him pay, hopping freight trains to get where she needs to go, and accidents, floods, and attacks plague her route to revenge. Then when she gets to the Burnett farm in Lafayette, Virginia, she learns the truth about what happened to her brother out on the rails, and she’s drawn right back into the things that made her fall in love with this place a year ago – including Paul. Now she must decide where she belongs – with Paul and his family, or back home with Jimmy in Maynardville, where everything she holds dear is there under the pawpaw trees.
Sequel to Sitting on Top of the World
June’s new normal: Her brother is gone, her dad is gone, her mother is grieving, and June must find her place in the world. Her beau Jimmy is her only tonic. But when tragedy strikes again, she knows exactly who to blame for all her sorrows: Paul Burnett, the railroad bull who started the chain of devastation when he killed her brother. June sets out on a dangerous journey to make him pay, hopping freight trains to get where she needs to go, and accidents, floods, and attacks plague her route to revenge. Then when she gets to the Burnett farm in Lafayette, Virginia, she learns the truth about what happened to her brother out on the rails, and she’s drawn right back into the things that made her fall in love with this place a year ago – including Paul. Now she must decide where she belongs – with Paul and his family, or back home with Jimmy in Maynardville, where everything she holds dear is there under the pawpaw trees.
December 1934
The first time I thought about killin’ Paul, I was sittin’ out under the pawpaw trees, on Josy and Daddy’s graves. It was just a fleeting thought then, no real plan or nothin’. But thinkin’ about everything I’d gone through put the idea of revenge in my head.
I couldn’t get over losin’ my brother Josy. He was more than a brother – he was the person in the world I looked up to the most. I’ll never forget the day ol’ Charlie and Pate brung him home all beat up by railroad bulls and barely alive. Three days. He lasted three days after they brung him home. And our world just fell apart after that.
I tried everything to take care of Mama and Daddy, ’cause those were Josy’s last words, Take care of Mama and Daddy. I went huntin’, trappin’, and tradin’, but nothin’ was enough. We were too far behind on our mortgage, Mama was sick, Daddy couldn’t do much ’cause of losin’ his hand in that axe accident, and besides, both of them were plumb useless ’cause of grief. So I followed in Josy’s footsteps and hopped a train, hopin’ to find work. I did find work, but I also found Paul Burnett, the railroad bull who took me offa that train and took my heart too.
Paul was big and broad shouldered but soft and gentle as a teddy bear. He wrote poetry and snuck caramel cubes into my pockets on the clothesline and smoothed aloe on my sunburnt skin and watched sunsets with me and held my hands when we danced on Fourth of July and told me I sparkled like fireworks. He made me feel things I had never felt before. I believe he introduced me to love.
And then he introduced me to the most horrible feelings I could have ever imagined. Because I found out that Paul was one of the bulls that beat up Josy.
The second time I thought about killin’ Paul, I got more serious about it, started makin’ a plan. I had just gotten that apology note from him, and all those memories came back in a tidal wave.
I had to go talk to Josy, rollin’ our purple marble in my fingers, tryin’ to block the vision of Josy in that pine box and Daddy crumpling to the ground, me puttin’ our jar of marbles into the crook of Josy’s arm before they closed the casket, and keepin’ my favorite purple one so’s I could have somethin’ to remember Josy by, a token, a connection.
I was glad Paul brought my marble back – it had been a mistake to give it to him in the first place – but he’s the reason Josy’s in that pine box. Pate told me about it. It was Pate who witnessed the beating and Pate who recognized Paul when we went to the Burnett farm to work for the winter. So, naturally, it was Pate I thought about findin’ to help me hunt Paul down and do to him exactly what he did to Josy. Except I planned to use my pistol.
Paul left me the note and the purple marble, and it was the marble that I cared about. The note, I ripped that into a million pieces and watched them float away like paper ghosts in the wind. Then I ran out to Josy’s grave and cried and cried.
Josy was my hero. Boy, I idolized him – still do. He couldn’t do nothin’ wrong in my eyes, and that made his death all the more tragic. For me and for Mama and Daddy. And if it weren’t for his death, I believe Daddy’d still be here too.
Daddy’s death came so suddenly and unexpectedly. I tried to pretend it was an accident, like the one that took his hand, or that he plumb worked himself to death, or even that he got thrown from our mule, Molly, even though she couldn’t throw nobody if she tried. I made up these scenarios ’cause the truth was too hard to bear. But Daddy just couldn’t take Josy’s death. He blamed himself. ’Course I blame Paul. For all of it. The way I see it, Paul killed Josy and Daddy. There’s no gettin’ around that fact.
Now, as I watch Pastor Klein, Mr. Macafee, and Mr. Clay lower a third pine box into the ground under the pawpaw trees, next to Josy and Daddy, I’m thinkin’ about killin’ Paul again. And this time, I mean it.
Some books you can skim. Others you taste slowly. Savor each word and every drop. Cheryl King’s Under the Pawpaw Trees is a “savor slowly” kind of book. A teen historical fiction book that’s refreshingly clean and wholesome, Under the Pawpaw Trees is a masterful feat of storytelling that will resonate long after the final page is turned.
Set mostly in Tennessee and Virginia during the Great Depression era, Under the Pawpaw Trees* is the much-anticipated sequel to King’s award-wining debut novel, Sitting on Top of the World.
I absolutely loved King’s first book, Sitting on Top of the Word. (If you missed that, you missed a good one. I’d grab a copy now if I were you.) I was eager to read the sequel, Under the Pawpaw Trees. And while sequels are sometimes disappointing, Under the Pawpaw Trees isn’t one of them. It delivers. In spades. In fact, there’s so much to love about Under the Pawpaw Trees, it’s hard to know where to start! But I’ll try. Like this:
The plucky protagonist is June Baker. She’s newly sixteen. She’s tough and strong. A rebel. June speaks her mind and will “rip the head off” anyone who wrongs her or one of her kin. She’s also soft, kind, and quiet. She’s a little Scout Finch. A little Kya the Marsh Girl. A bit Francie Nolan. All heart. At the end of the day, notes her long-time best friend Jimmy Mack, June is “label-less. Undefinable.” And “perfect.”
That pretty much describes this novel. It’s powerful. Compelling. And “label-less.”
When the story opens, June is bent on revenge. She’s planning to kill railroad bull Paul Burnett. She thinks Paul is responsible for the death of her older brother, Joseph “Josy,” and that Paul beat Josy to death when Josy was riding the rails looking for work. Following Josy’s death, June’s father commits suicide. Shortly thereafter, June’s mother also dies.
June has lost everything. She blames Paul for every tragedy. And she’s out for revenge.
What unfolds next is a remarkable, tightly written tale about courage, compassion, family, friendship, loyalty, love, and forgiveness. It’s both heartbreaking and hopeful. Also much more, including will June ever get her sparkle back? And a choice between two great loves and questions of “belonging.” As in: Where does June belong? In a new life with a new family, or with the love of her life in the only home she’s ever known, under the pawpaw trees? Also several “I-did-not-see-that-coming” plot twists that will keep you on the edge of your seat, turning pages until the very end.
This historical fiction novel is a little Where the Crawdads Sing. A bit To Kill a Mockingbird. A touch of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. And still all heart.
The writing is outstanding. Stunning. King has a way of making scenes, settings, and characters practically stand up and walk. And jump off the page. Right into your heart. For example, June’s excitement at getting electricity and a phone at her rural farm is palpable. Without giving too much away about the scenes set in and around Christmas, let’s just say they could wring tears from a turnip. The Fourth of July picnic scene will have you batting away pesky bees. Hearing the ring of horse shoes. Tasting watermelon in the heat of a July afternoon. The descriptions of June’s adventures riding the rails and staying in hobo camps are superb. You can almost smell the campfire smoke.
And that’s what King does in this gently faith-flavored coming-of-age tale about unbearable loss and grief, hope and resilience. Finely crafted and expertly written, this novel conveys the idea that even amid unbearable amounts of loss and grief, opportunity knocks. And hope whispers. It’s simply mesmerizing.
Indeed, Under the Pawpaw Trees is richly textured and beautifully written. The main characters of June and her dear friend Jimmy Mack practically stand up and walk. So do the characters of Pate, Charlie, Paul, Mama, Mama Helen, Mrs. Randolph, and even Molly the mule. They’re believable and multi-faceted, with big personalities and credible backgrounds. They feel like people you might run into on any street corner.
Under the Pawpaw Trees is the second book in Cheryl King’s historical fiction duology. It’s designated as a young adult book. But older readers will enjoy it, too. In fact, I didn’t want it to end! You won’t, either. It’s “good to the last drop.” And then some.
*For those unfamiliar, a “pawpaw tree” is the largest edible fruit tree native to North America, specifically in the Southeast United States. I had to look it up.