A Points South essay from the Summer 2019 issue Much of what they’d tell me next was legend—tall tales, rumors, exaggerations. Perry Martin adopted an orphan girl he found on the riverside, raised her up as his own, paid her… by Boyce Upholt | Jun, 2019

A Points South essay from the Summer 2019 issue I have wanted to visit this house for years. Like many North Carolina kids, I grew up with the broad strokes of Thomas Wolfe’s story, the prolific, small-town genius who became… by Stephanie Powell Watts | Jun, 2019

A Southern Journey from the Summer 2019 issue.  He began the letter by asking Larry to cremate him and scatter his ashes next to his second wife’s ashes at Johnson Beach in Perdido Key, Florida, “approximately 75 yards from end… by Britta Lokting | Jun, 2019

A Southern Journey from the Summer 2019 issue.  Lenny did all he could to hang around it over the next couple of years, cleaning lines, fetching balls, brushing the clay to maintain a smooth surface. Eventually, after cocktail hour ended… by Shaun Assael | Jun, 2019

Mike Frolich’s artistic legacy in the Saturn Bar One of my many justifications for keeping the devil was Frolich’s claim that his paintings were created in part for the children of the Ninth Ward, more of whom run through our… by Anne Gisleson | Jun, 2019

We would like to hear from you.  The magazine will begin publishing letters to the editor in the fall issue and going forward. If you would like to respond to a story published in the magazine, we welcome your letter. by Oxford American | Jun, 2019

 A Letter from the Editor, Summer 2019. At the Oxford American, we receive many pitches for stories in the category of “pilgrimages,” or “literary road trips,” or “retracing X’s steps.” I understand the appeal: the traveler can see with her… by Eliza Borné | Jun, 2019

A featured short story from the Summer 2019 issue. Mother had no shortage of repulsive qualities, but the most disturbing was her laugh. Otherworldly. Piercing. A stranger would fall on the ice or a double-crossing cop would get his comeuppance… by Graham Gordy | Jun, 2019

Scott Hubener’s project The Space In Between documents the landscape and residents along U.S. Route 23, between Asheville, North Carolina, and Johnson City, Tennessee. This highway was the only way to reach Johnson City until an extension of Interstate 26 was constructed in 2003. Interstate 26 now towers over the landscape of Appalachia, and the small towns and villages are completely bypassed by the many visitors to the region each year.

In his ongoing series, Nashville photographer Hollis Bennett documents the leisurely, and sometimes not-so-leisurely, moments of the great American Weekend. All is not as it seems with these revelers, Hollis writes, "I explore the state of relaxation, joy and general delight that we strive for at the end of the week and the absence of work. In many instances though, such states as anxiety, fear, and doubt are mixed in, lurking under the thin veneer of a good time."

A conversation with Miller Williams. 

I do believe that poetry is more satisfying when it has a pattern similar to those of songs. I wish that I could sing well, as I’m sure you know my daughter Lucinda does, and writes her own songs. Hank Williams (no kinship there) told me that since he often wrote his lyrics months before he set them to music, they spent those months as sort-of poems. I think the kinship is real.

Jamie Quatro's stories are uncensored, sometimes eccentric explorations of life—its darkness and brilliance—written in a voice that David Means describes as “bright, sharp, startling, utterly distinctive, passionate, and secretive." Here, she talks about her process and influences.

Roger May's project Testify is a measured and honest documentation of Appalachia. His photographs tell a story in which family, industry, memory, erasure, and loss play equal parts.

A firefighter cannot be a coward. He can be a lot of things, a prick, a thief, a liar, but he cannot be a coward. A man who won't tote his own weight, who won't hump his own hose, won't be tolerated. They'll blackball him and nobody will want him on his shift. I've seen men who were reluctant to enter a burning building. It does not endear them to you, not if you think about going down inside one and him being the only one immediately available to pull you out.

Sarah Hoskins's The Homeplace is a beautifully considered study of the small African-American communities that sprang up in post–Civil War Kentucky. Some of these communities have endured, and even thrived throughout the past 150 years. Others are on the verge of disappearing.

An installment of Big Chief Tablet.

In her photographs White contrasts landscapes from Mississippi with scenes from Maine. White’s work speaks to the experience of travel. Not only the pleasure of seeing a new landscape with its unfamiliar textures and light, but also our tendency to seek out the forms and landscapes that remind us of home.