Steve Suitts does a deep dive into election laws in Alabama. In the process, he finds a foretaste of national election laws and court decisions. It’s a sobering and incisive study. I reviewed it for Alabama Writers’ Forum.
Recently, I shared a justifiably angry letter to the President of the University of Alabama, expressing my concern over the announcement that the current Resident of the White House plans to speak at the University in conjunction with the University’s spring graduation.
Since then, I have gathered more information and it has become clear that the Resident was not invited for the occasion but has coerced himself into the weekend and that the University has complied by adding a special ticketed event for anyone who cares to listen to the speech (I assure you, the speech will likely be well-attended). I suspect that this was the brainstorm of people like Katie Britt, Alabama’s junior Senator who specializes in earnestly smiling through fake tears whenever she has an audience, and the Alabama Republican Party, which has a strong influence these days on anything that happens in our state.
Some Context: I am reminded of a series of Garry Trudeau’s “Doonesbury” comics from 1974, at the height of the Watergate scandal. Nixon’s people are trying to find a place in the United States where he might be welcomed. They find the (fictional) town of “Fritters, Alabama! Population 1,635. All white. 95% of work force working on government contracts! It’s perfect, sir!” I don’t want my alma mater to be the next Fritters.
It’s sad, but true, and I understand the University administration’s dilemma. However, I still question the complicity. Based on what I can gather, the University has either entered into a Faustian bargain or capitulated like Vichy France. Or both. Either way, it’s a disgrace and embarrassment for many who were once proud graduates of the University. I’m not proud today.
Obviously, I am taking this personally. The University has been very concerned with its “brand” in recent years. The brand is taking a major hit now. I hope steps are being taken to address the damage. I have an easy first suggestion: The University President should sign onto “A Call for Constructive Engagement,” a document signed by dozens of college and university presidents addressing federal overreach in higher education. It is an outstanding statement addressing the current crisis in American education. I was surprised that the University of Alabama was not among the signatories.
It’s not too late to fix this, President Bell. And, in the meantime, University of Alabama doctoral student Alireza Doroudi is still being held in ICE detention.
The number of accomplished writers to emerge from Alabama and with significant ties to the state is a source of hope and pride. Here is a link to my piece on the March 7 induction of the 2025 class. Check out the list of previous inductees at the end.
Occasionally, while reading Suzanne Hudson’s collection Deep Water, Dark Horizons, I felt like I might be eavesdropping on some kinfolks — y’know, those kinfolks you don’t necessarily like to claim. The collection commemorates Hudson’s 2025 Truman Capote Prize and you can read my review for Alabama Writers’ Forum here:
On a bright and chilly morning after a weekend of storms, the promise of Spring is murmured in little things. The flocks of migrating birds that filled the yards, the feeders, and the trees in the woods beyond for a few weeks seem to have moved on. A solitary male cardinal sits in the bare limbs of the Rose of Sharon. The hummingbird feeders will go up soon.
When I opened the blinds a few days ago, six blue jays were gathered on the grass, feeding peacefully amidst a couple of cardinals. I’ve never seen six bluejays together before. A covey of crows fussed from high in the pines and the smaller birds were busy on the edges. It was a peaceable kingdom until Lulu the chihuahua bounded out for her morning constitutional.
The foliage of lilies to come peeks out from the straw in the flower bed. Perhaps their blooms will coincide with this year’s late Easter. I thinned out the lilies after last year’s bloom but it appears they have multiplied again.
A closer look at the Rose of Sharon yields the buds beginning to pop forth. The foliage down the mountain is slowly emerging, but the busy intersection at the foot of the mountain is still clearly visible through the trees. Soon, the thick foliage down the mountain will make the intersection vanish in a curtain of green.
There is an appealing subtlety to Spring. It’s constantly sneaking up on us. One day the crocus bloom and just as quickly they’re gone in a couple of weeks. I have just noticed the blooms have popped out on the pine trees. A neighbor’s Carolina jasmine, pronounced dead after a hard late freeze a couple of years ago, is back and blooming more lushly than ever.
Finding the beauty and blatant symbolism in the heralds of Spring brings peace and tranquility and, always, a hope for better days to come. 
What We Are Becoming is a story anthology from SouthArts and Hub City Writers Project. I reviewed it recently for Alabama Writers’ Forum.
NOTE: In 2023, I posted this essay about a new movie about novelist Richard Wright, playwright Paul Green, and their collaboration with Orson Welles on a stage production of Native Son. I am reposting that essay and attaching exciting news about the streaming release.
The Problem of the Hero is a compelling historical drama about the clash between men of principle in 1941. The men are novelist Richard Wright and playwright Paul Green, liberal Southerners – one Black, one White.
The two writers have been collaborating on a stage adaptation of Wright’s landmark novel, Native Son, to be produced on Broadway, directed by Orson Welles. (Orson Welles directing Native Son might also be a source of contention today.) The film explores the conflict between Wright and Green about the final page of the stage adaptation. Green wants the final scene to offer a hope of redemption for Wright’s protagonist, Bigger Thomas; Wright does not. Green feels the need to cater to what will be a mostly White audience on Broadway; Wright has no intention of catering to anybody.
The film highlights the efforts of two men, each an advocate for civil rights, who view that advocacy from very different perspectives. At one point, Richard Wright (J. Mardrice Henderson) reminds Paul Green (David zum Brunnen) of the “difference between knowing and empathizing.” He asserts that Green has the luxury of choice – a luxury not available to Bigger Thomas and the downtrodden he represents. Green’s responses often echo the confusion that comes to those who try to do what is right, but don’t know how it might be received.
Although the movie is set in 1941, its pertinence rings strongly today in ongoing discussions of agency and who has the right to speak for, and represent, whom. It’s a discussion that applies to much more than writers; it’s a discussion now that is essentially changing the definition of what it means to be an actor.
Director Shaun Dozier masterfully presents The Problem of the Hero with cinematic finesse from a screenplay by James A. Hodge and Ian Finley, from Finley’s one-act play, “Native.” It’s a beautiful film to look at with cinematography by Steve Milligan and editing by Dozier. Most of the action takes place in and around New York’s St. James Theatre during final rehearsals for Green and Wright’s stage version of Native Son. That setting provides the background for creative presentation of the story as Green and Wright’s discussions take place backstage, in the auditorium, in dressing rooms, onstage, in rehearsals, during a light check. On a few occasions, the relative quiet of the film is broken by the bluster of Orson Welles (Charlie Cannon) who, true to form, sucks the air out of the room each time he enters the frame.
The Problem of the Hero features grown-up debates between formidable sparring partners about issues simmering for centuries, that have come to a more urgent forefront again within our own past decade. Eight decades after the events chronicled in this film, the conversations are as timely as they’ve ever been.
Wright and Green are articulate spokesmen for points of view that are heading generally in the same direction, but inevitably come to an impasse. Still, their discussion remains courteous, patient, and forthright. On those occasions when anger flares, it’s best to pay close attention. Canada Lee (Brandon Haynes), the actor playing Bigger Thomas in the play, comments to Green that he and Wright “fight like brothers.” Paul Green remarks that “not every friendship can survive the artistic process.”
This is intimate filmmaking. Green and Wright each have exceptional scenes with others. Green reveals his frustrations to Canada Lee in an unhurried cigarette break. Wright recounts a troubling childhood memory to actor Nell Harrison (Josephine Hall) during a dressing room visit. There is a pause when his story is over. Nell’s perfect response is a simple sigh, “oh.”
Mostly, however, the screen belongs to Green and Wright, in the beautifully paired casting of David zum Brunnen and J. Mardrice Henderson. The conviction and level of their discourse is rare in films these days. Green is a patriot in the old-fashioned sense, with a firm belief that the country is headed in the right direction, despite its setbacks. You can see his pain when he realizes his friend and collaborator is an atheist, a communist. Wright has no delusions about the forces of racism in his native land – yearning to find freedom in Paris, even at a time when Nazis are occupying France. When Green scoffs at racist utterances, calling such things “nonsense,” Wright replies, “There’s danger in nonsense, Mr. Green. Enough people speak the same nonsense at the same time and it might as well be the truth.” Thinking of our current national situation, I found myself sighing oh.
The Problem of the Hero carries a subtle metaphor about a single candle being held in vigil outside a prison where an execution is taking place. A futile gesture, perhaps, but it is gradually joined by other candles in the darkness.
The Problem of the Hero is currently playing on the film festival circuit with distribution news forthcoming. The early reviews I have seen have been unanimously positive. I would encourage you to remember this title and seek out this film at your first opportunity. Here’s the trailer:
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Now, here’s new information about how you can watch The Problem of the Hero:
EbzB Productions/WhyNot Theatricals remains deeply humbled by your support on this journey, and we hope it continues. Our recent distribution deal with Buffalo8 is only the beginning. This film is a testament to the dedication of over 100 artists (most of them from North Carolina) who brought this story to life. Please help us to amplify its impact.
As The Problem of the Hero prepares for release on Apple TV and Amazon in the U.S. and North America, we’re thrilled to announce its availability in regions worldwide, spanning the Caribbean, Europe, Asia, and Africa. But we don’t want to stop there—we want this film to reach even more people, sparking conversations and broadening perspectives.
📢 Here’s how you can support:
✅ Preorder on Apple TV starting March 14, 2025.
✅ Share the news with friends, colleagues, and film lovers.
✅ Forward this email or repost on social media.
✅ Share the trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPFbKbCWcWg
Your voice is powerful. Your support is invaluable. Thank you for being part of this journey!
Crime writer Ace Atkins will be inducted into the Alabama Writers Hall of Fame on March 7, 2025. I recently reviewed his latest book, his thirtieth, for Alabama Writers’ Forum.
Here’s the review:
Taking a shortcut to a doctor’s appointment a while back, I absent-mindedly missed my turn. The trigger that cued me was the gaping and abandoned entrance to a mine structure which was sitting right there on the side of the road. I had never seen it before, realized I had just missed my turn, and vowed to come back and photograph the place when I had more time.
This new-to-me site was near a community of mining-cottage style houses that I had passed often, remnants of the Muscoda red ore mining operation. Back when the miners lived in company housing, communities would pop up of mostly uniform houses of vernacular design. In the Muscoda community of Bessemer, a few miles from Birmingham, these houses can still be found dotting the area. The particularly striking style that seems to predominate around certain parts of Bessemer is recognizable by its pyramidal roof topped by a chimney. These houses typically were four rooms with a living and kitchen area to one side, two bedrooms on the other side, and a central fireplace to heat the house. Some of the houses still standing appear to have been amended and expanded over time, bathrooms for sure have been added, but others seem to have remained essentially true to their original design. To me, they are elegant in their simplicity; the masonry of the mine structures is elegant decay.
These reminders of the Birmingham district’s industrial past are everywhere and I am always pleased when I discover ones I did not notice before. Remnants of mining railroads, steel factories, and coal mines dot the area; some might find them unsightly but they are vivid reminders of what ignited and sustained the area in the not-so-distant past. Many are vine covered, decaying, returning to the earth they came from. The hiking trails in sprawling Red Mountain Park, on land once owned by U.S. Steel, often go past abandoned mine entrances and structures related to local heavy industry. Such history amid lush nature is a powerful statement.
These places are as important to an understanding of the relatively short post-colonial history of this place as Greek and Roman antiquities are in Europe and ancient Native mound cities that can be found not that far away. Perhaps I romanticize a bit, but both of my grandfathers were factory workers in the Birmingham steel industry so it becomes personal to understand it better. I can remember when Birmingham made national headlines in the early 1970s for industrial pollution crises so there is undeniable advantage to the area’s shift to a “cleaner” economic base; the industry was damaging to the environment and the work was brutal and we must keep in mind the lives and value of the workers who did it and those who still do it every day. Birmingham’s dominant employer now is the UAB medical district, an ever-expanding entity that practices its own brand of tyranny. Such is American capitalism, I reckon.
My Muscoda discovery, along the waning ridges of Red Mountain, was a delight since I had not seen it mentioned in guides to industrial sites in the Birmingham area. In Oxmoor Valley, along Shades Creek at the foot of Shades Mountain, is the site of the Confederate-era Oxmoor furnaces, the first in Jefferson County. Unlike the Muscoda mines, no structures remain at that site – only a historic marker and a cemetery down the road.
I will continue to miss my turn and check on those Muscoda structures now and again. Like the Alabama-born photographer William Christenberry in his beloved Hale County, I will keep track of the progress of decay. Someday, probably after I am gone, only vines and brambles and crumbling brick shards will remain to mark what was. 
Professional Southerner 