Where the Water-Dogs Laughed by Charles F. Price.
Boone: High Country Publishers, LTD, 2003. $24.95 — 304 pp.

One of the major themes in Cherokee folklore concerns the sacred covenant between Man and Nature. Many of the ancient tales illustrate the delicate, mystical ties that traditional Cherokees believe exist between “The Great Trinity” — man, plant and animal. Frequently, the Cherokee myths not only recount heroic adventures and fabulous quests — they also contain a cautionary warning: Be mindful of the covenant, they say. Observe the rituals that maintain the fragile balance of Creation, for failure to do so can rend the sacred bonds that hold this world together.

Many of the early settlers in Appalachia were surprised to see Cherokee hunters who had a tradition of “thanking” the animals that they killed. For example, a hunter would fall to his knees beside a dying bear and express his gratitude. “Thank you, yanu. My family thanks you for this gift.” This was the covenant, then — all animals would gladly give their flesh to mankind provided that the hunters acknowledged their appreciation of the sacrifice. Failure to do so could bring sickness, famine and the enmity of Nature.

Where the Water-Dogs Laughed, Charles F. Price’s fourth novel, embodies the consequences of man’s broken pledge — his loss of reverence for nature. In the tumultuous years following the Civil War when the timber barons acquired the vast forests of Appalachia, the subsequent devastation was both awesome and irreparable — and it was accomplished with the assistance of the region’s landowners. Suffering from the economic deprivations that followed the war and lured by the promise of quick prosperity, thousands of landowners entered into a dubious alliance with the lumber companies and assisted them in reducing the forests to barren wastes.

Where the Water-Dogs Laughed continues the chronicle of Price’s family history that begins with Hiwassee: A Novel of the Civil War, and continues through Freedom’s Altar and Cock’s Spur. The family names are familiar — Carter, Moore Middleton and Price — in fact, many of the characters who first appeared in earlier works reach their final accounting in Where the Water-Dogs Laughed. Certainly, it is a diverse cast. As in previous works, the narrative bristles with buffoons, villains, pining lovers and obsessed folks — obsessed with greed, vengeance ... and dreams.

However in the dark heart of this novel is Yan-e gwa, the Great Bear, a creature that Price transforms into a preternatural beast endowed with reason. In essence, Yan-e gwa embodies divine retribution and he moves through the dwindling wilderness like an avenging angel, seeking to punish the “Ancestors” who are destroying the world, and — if possible — remind them of their promise to revere the land that gives them sustenance.

However, Price’s flawed mortals are equally memorable. Hamby McFee, the brooding mixed blood (who refuses to remove his hat in the presence of whites), finally returns home still yearning for peace and respect. Now, as his health deteriorates, he finds a way to stop “hating the world” through the unlikely council of another outcast, Mordecai Corntassel and misshapen hound, Cattywampus Dog. Gradually, Hamby comes to understand that his final destiny is mixed with that of Yan-e gwa somewhere in the fog-shrouded Nantahalas.

Then, there is George Gordon Meade Weatherby, the arrogant lumber baron who descends on the Appalachian wilderness as though he were waging war. Besotted with the philosophy of the Ayran race, propagated by Abbot Kinney (a contemporary of Casare Lombroso, the “father of phrenology”) Weatherby perceives himself as the epitome of a “superior genetic strain.” As a consequence he has an obligation to suppress inferior and/or exhausted breeds — such as the people who inhabit Appalachia. As his lumber industry thrives, he — like other robber barons who came here — builds a pretentious, gaudy mansion called Wildwood, and brings his daughter Cassandra (currently enrolled in Swarthmore) to live with him.

And so the stage is set for a drama of epic proportions. Weatherby employs Absalom Middleton, a handsome, blue-eyed fellow who appears intelligent — good genetic stock, no doubt, but inferior to Weatherby’s. In addition to his duties with Weatherby’s prospering business, Absalom is given the responsibility of being a kind of “rustic tutor” for Cassandra. Then Weatherby hears of the Great Bear that is wreaking havoc in the far reaches of the Nantahalas; since he excels at hunting, it seems logical that he should add Yan-e Gwa to his trophies. Laden with an assortment of hunting rifles, the lumber baron tracks and confronts his prey. To Weatherby’s astonishment, he finds himself routed and barely escapes with his life ... but he vows to return. The plot thickens as Weatherby broods. Then, Cassandra’s “orientation” takes a personal turn ...

In the meanwhile, the devastation of the forest continues. As the land erodes, the rivers carry away the topsoil. Animal life vanishes and typhoid epidemics sweep through the coves and hollows. Entire households die and the smoldering fires begin to appear — fires in which the contaminated clothing of the sick and dying are consumed. As the deaths mount, the tragic events come to resemble retribution — the bitter price that nature extracts from the “Ancestors” who forgot their pledge. As Where The Water-Dogs Laughed moves inexorably towards a final resolution, Hamby McBee and a misshapen hound begin a final journey to a distant mountain bald.

If this review suggests that this novel is all dark portents and mystical warnings, rest assured that such is not the case. As always, Price’s narrative sparkles with wit, anecdotes and folklore. Indeed, two of Price’s most appealing characters are Will Price, a gifted singer and storyteller, and “Irish Bill” Moore, a man who loves to gallop across the square in Hayesville while delivering Rebel yells ... as he snatches startled roosters from the ground. As always, it is gratifying to read a work by an author who has done faultless research into everything from the intricacies of log flumes to the exact details of the old folktale about the drunken, plucked guineas. Salud, Charles.

(Gary Carden is a writer, storyteller and lecturer whose book, Mason Jars in the Flood, was recently named Book of the Year by the Appalachian Writers Association. He can be reached at gcarden498@aol.com.)