About the Book
Title: Done Growed Up | Author: Mary Morony | Genre: Literary Fiction | Number of Pages: 266 Publication Date: June 8, 2016
Book Description: When we last left the Mackey Family in the late 1950s, their lives were in turmoil. Divorce, alcoholism, racism, death, puberty - what WEREN'T they dealing with? Ethel, a black maid in a racist world - the true heart and soul of the Mackey Family, is the children’s only constant as she fights her own numerous demons. Twelve-year-old Sallee struggles to understand the world with little enlightenment from the adults around her. Her older sister Stuart, a college student New York City, finally escaped the South and drama of her family only to succumb to the terrible temptations of urban life; Gordon, a 14 year old boy feeling anger and hatred as he begins to slowly realize the harsh reality of the people and world around him; while Ginny, newly divorced mother off our, finds that she's not the spoiled princess she once was. She is overwhelmed with responsibility, feelings of abandonment, and alcoholism. Joe, Ginny’s ex, and the children’s father, revels in new-found wealth and popularity with women, yet yearns for family and simpler times.
Author Mary Morony was born and raised in Charlottesville, Virginia, mainly by her family’s beloved black maid. Her childhood was a time of segregated schools and many places that prohibited black people. Morony’s inspiration for the Apron Strings Trilogy was her strong relationship with her maid and caretaker, who taught her more about life and love than anyone has since. Morony also uses personal life tragedies and triumphs to produce novels with real experiences and true emotion.
Excerpt:
One Friday afternoon just home from school Sallee skipped into the kitchen as Ethel was preparing dinner, “Hey Ethel,” she gave Ethel a playful pat on her ample backside as she slid into a kitchen chair and smiled up at her, “Can you make me a pie for school? I gotta bring one in on Monday. It’s for my Home Ec. class— more like home ick class,” She made a face. “if you ask me. I hate that class. I wish Mom hadn’t forced me to take it.”
Ethel poured out a glass of sweet tea. “Want some?” The child nodded that she did. Ethel put the glass down in front of her and poured another for herself. “You is a mess always talkin’ ‘bout hatin’ dis an’ dat. What kinda pie you want? I’ll have t’ make it at home on Sunday an’ brang it in Monday mornin' 'fore you got t' school.” She took a long pull on the cold tea.
“That would be terrific. Thanks.” Sallee sipped at her tea as she perused the comics in the afternoon paper before moving on to her favorite, The Ann Landers column, tickled pink that she would be bringing home and A for both Ethel and herself next Friday. I am brilliant! She thought congratulating herself.
The next Friday as the children filed into the kitchen after school Sallee was not quite herself. After Sallee’s siblings Gordy and Helen left Ethel stopped peeling potatoes and asked her, “You feelin’ okay? Want some tea?” She resisted the urge to feel the child’s forehead. “You doan’ look like yo’self.”
Sallee seated at the kitchen table leaned her head on a propped arm and sighed, “Yeah I’m okay. It’s just that I thought I was gonna get an easy “A” on your pie.” She fiddled with the rolled up newspaper. We got any saltines?” Ethel nodded toward the cupboard with her head. Sallee got up opened a cabinet door pulled out the cracker box, then stood gazing into the cabinet.
“What you lookin’ fo?”
“Peanut butter? I don’t know.” She shut the door leaving the box of crackers on the counter where she had placed it.
Ethel looked from the box to Sallee and back again, “You want ‘em or not?” Sallee shrugged her indecision. “What you mean you was gonna get an A on my pie? On MY pie? And you didn’? What you talkin’ ‘bout?” Ethel wiped her hands slowly on her every present dishtowel as she watched Sallee squirm. She replaced the cracker box in the cabinet with a quick shake of her head.
“Remember that pie I asked you to make last week?” Sallee started.
“Yeah, what about it? Was dey somethin’ wrong wit’ it?”
“It was my homework,” Sallee admitted, downcast.
“My pie was yo’ homework! You was ‘spossed t’ make a pie fo’ school an’ you got me t’ do it ‘stead o’ you? Dat’s cheatin’ ain’t it? Was you de only one dat cheated?”
Sallee jumped to her own defense, “You know you make the best pies in the whole world. I haven’t been doing so hot in that class. Remember in the sewing part I had to go see the school nurse when I sewed my finger onto the blouse that I was making?” Ethel shot her a concerned looked. “Okay, maybe I didn’t sew it to the blouse exactly, but the needle did go through my thumb, and I bled all over the dumb old shirt. I got a D because of it. I tell you one thing, Ethel, I don’t want to have to take that class over again.
“Anyway, when our homework was to make a pie over the weekend and hand it in on Monday, I was sure I could get an A if I brought in one of your pies.” She looked sheepishly up at Ethel, who at this point was looming over her with her dishtowel stuck in her apron string and her hands on her hips.
“Sallee Mackey! You know dat was cheatin’ don’t cha?” Ethel sighed shaking her head again as she looked down at the child. “I know, you know better den dat.” Sucking her tongue, she turned back to peeling potatoes. “How many pies did you say dey was?
“I know, Ethel, and I’m sorry.” Sallee agreed before answering, “Twenty. I just thought my teacher who thinks she knows everything needed to know what good tasted like. I was wrong.” Sallee grumbled addressing Ethel’s back. ‘Besides there was no way I would be the almost only one in the class that didn’t get an A.
“Yes’um you was wrong. What you gonna do ‘bout it, is what I wanna know? The only one!?” Ethel tried to keep her voice even, glad that Sallee couldn’t see her face.
“What I would like to do is punch her in the nose,” Sallee announced. “Yeah almost all of them got A’s.” Ethel stopped her peeling and turned to face the girl. “Everybody thought your pie was the best.” Sallee implored.
The woman’s face turned stormy, Punch her, well, why didn’ ya? Ethel thought, but said, “Child, what is I gonna do with you? You need to tell yo’ teacher dat you cheated on yo’ homework. Is what you oughtta do.”
“There is no way I’m gonna tell that old…”
“Now dat ain’t no way to talk ‘bout yo’ teacher—” Ethel added to herself, even if she doan no good if it took a bite outta her— “She got a name. What de matter wit’ you? You know better. Most o’ ‘em?” Ethel caught herself before snorting in indignation, allowing only a modulated, “Hmmp!” to escape.
Sallee, looked down at the paper she held in her hand and read, “While the pie tasted delicious, the bottom crust was not crisp.” She looked at Ethel with sad eyes, “Ethel, your pie gotta C."
“Hmmmp,” was all she said, though she thought volumes.
What readers are saying...
Author Mary Morony was born and raised in Charlottesville, Virginia, mainly by her family’s beloved black maid. Her childhood was a time of segregated schools and many places that prohibited black people. Morony’s inspiration for the Apron Strings Trilogy was her strong relationship with her maid and caretaker, who taught her more about life and love than anyone has since. Morony also uses personal life tragedies and triumphs to produce novels with real experiences and true emotion.
Excerpt:
Pie
One Friday afternoon just home from school Sallee skipped into the kitchen as Ethel was preparing dinner, “Hey Ethel,” she gave Ethel a playful pat on her ample backside as she slid into a kitchen chair and smiled up at her, “Can you make me a pie for school? I gotta bring one in on Monday. It’s for my Home Ec. class— more like home ick class,” She made a face. “if you ask me. I hate that class. I wish Mom hadn’t forced me to take it.”
Ethel poured out a glass of sweet tea. “Want some?” The child nodded that she did. Ethel put the glass down in front of her and poured another for herself. “You is a mess always talkin’ ‘bout hatin’ dis an’ dat. What kinda pie you want? I’ll have t’ make it at home on Sunday an’ brang it in Monday mornin' 'fore you got t' school.” She took a long pull on the cold tea.
“That would be terrific. Thanks.” Sallee sipped at her tea as she perused the comics in the afternoon paper before moving on to her favorite, The Ann Landers column, tickled pink that she would be bringing home and A for both Ethel and herself next Friday. I am brilliant! She thought congratulating herself.
The next Friday as the children filed into the kitchen after school Sallee was not quite herself. After Sallee’s siblings Gordy and Helen left Ethel stopped peeling potatoes and asked her, “You feelin’ okay? Want some tea?” She resisted the urge to feel the child’s forehead. “You doan’ look like yo’self.”
Sallee seated at the kitchen table leaned her head on a propped arm and sighed, “Yeah I’m okay. It’s just that I thought I was gonna get an easy “A” on your pie.” She fiddled with the rolled up newspaper. We got any saltines?” Ethel nodded toward the cupboard with her head. Sallee got up opened a cabinet door pulled out the cracker box, then stood gazing into the cabinet.
“What you lookin’ fo?”
“Peanut butter? I don’t know.” She shut the door leaving the box of crackers on the counter where she had placed it.
Ethel looked from the box to Sallee and back again, “You want ‘em or not?” Sallee shrugged her indecision. “What you mean you was gonna get an A on my pie? On MY pie? And you didn’? What you talkin’ ‘bout?” Ethel wiped her hands slowly on her every present dishtowel as she watched Sallee squirm. She replaced the cracker box in the cabinet with a quick shake of her head.
“Remember that pie I asked you to make last week?” Sallee started.
“Yeah, what about it? Was dey somethin’ wrong wit’ it?”
“It was my homework,” Sallee admitted, downcast.
“My pie was yo’ homework! You was ‘spossed t’ make a pie fo’ school an’ you got me t’ do it ‘stead o’ you? Dat’s cheatin’ ain’t it? Was you de only one dat cheated?”
Sallee jumped to her own defense, “You know you make the best pies in the whole world. I haven’t been doing so hot in that class. Remember in the sewing part I had to go see the school nurse when I sewed my finger onto the blouse that I was making?” Ethel shot her a concerned looked. “Okay, maybe I didn’t sew it to the blouse exactly, but the needle did go through my thumb, and I bled all over the dumb old shirt. I got a D because of it. I tell you one thing, Ethel, I don’t want to have to take that class over again.
“Anyway, when our homework was to make a pie over the weekend and hand it in on Monday, I was sure I could get an A if I brought in one of your pies.” She looked sheepishly up at Ethel, who at this point was looming over her with her dishtowel stuck in her apron string and her hands on her hips.
“Sallee Mackey! You know dat was cheatin’ don’t cha?” Ethel sighed shaking her head again as she looked down at the child. “I know, you know better den dat.” Sucking her tongue, she turned back to peeling potatoes. “How many pies did you say dey was?
“I know, Ethel, and I’m sorry.” Sallee agreed before answering, “Twenty. I just thought my teacher who thinks she knows everything needed to know what good tasted like. I was wrong.” Sallee grumbled addressing Ethel’s back. ‘Besides there was no way I would be the almost only one in the class that didn’t get an A.
“Yes’um you was wrong. What you gonna do ‘bout it, is what I wanna know? The only one!?” Ethel tried to keep her voice even, glad that Sallee couldn’t see her face.
“What I would like to do is punch her in the nose,” Sallee announced. “Yeah almost all of them got A’s.” Ethel stopped her peeling and turned to face the girl. “Everybody thought your pie was the best.” Sallee implored.
The woman’s face turned stormy, Punch her, well, why didn’ ya? Ethel thought, but said, “Child, what is I gonna do with you? You need to tell yo’ teacher dat you cheated on yo’ homework. Is what you oughtta do.”
“There is no way I’m gonna tell that old…”
“Now dat ain’t no way to talk ‘bout yo’ teacher—” Ethel added to herself, even if she doan no good if it took a bite outta her— “She got a name. What de matter wit’ you? You know better. Most o’ ‘em?” Ethel caught herself before snorting in indignation, allowing only a modulated, “Hmmp!” to escape.
Sallee, looked down at the paper she held in her hand and read, “While the pie tasted delicious, the bottom crust was not crisp.” She looked at Ethel with sad eyes, “Ethel, your pie gotta C."
“Hmmmp,” was all she said, though she thought volumes.
What readers are saying...
"Terrific read! If you haven't read it's prequel "Apron Strings," you will still enjoy...I was intrigued by the depth of soul in Morony's characters - she writes in a way where you can see what they're seeing and feel what they're feeling." - Amazon Reviewer
"I thought Mary Morony did a wonderful job of capturing what it's like to be a child going through the turbulent stages of adolescence. Her characters were very real and relatable, which made the book that much better! I highly recommend giving this a read!" - Melinda (Amazon)
"Even though this book is a sequel, it can certainly stand alone. It was a good easy read and I laughed, I cried and I couldn't wait to see what would happen next." - Amazon Reviewer
"Mary Morony really makes her characters come alive!" - Max (Amazon)
About the Author
Mary Morony’s rich characters are drawn from her childhood memories and lifelong experiences. Growing up in a household where both of her parents (and their maid!) had issues with alcohol, her parents split up in a time when divorce was a humiliating family secret. Morony had a lot of material to work with, even as a child.
By the time Morony was 35, she had been married four times. Divorced, widowed and the mother of four children, she has experienced more in her life than most people would in five lives. It has been said that “A life of tragedy and pain has bred a writer full of wit and compassion” in Mary Morony. As her characters grow and learn, she teaches lessons learned from her own experiences.
Mary Morony is an author who can write about tragedy from the inside and guides her readers through it to compassion, humor and recovery. She brings Southern charm, irreverence and wit to bear against subjects as vast as racism and as personal as alcoholism, always with a heart and soul that makes her work undeniably appealing.
Blog Tour Giveaway
Giveaway ends: August 29, 11:59 pm, 2016
Open to: Internationally
How to enter: Please enter using the Rafflecopter widget below.
Terms and Conditions: NO PURCHASE NECESSARY TO ENTER OR WIN. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW. A winner will be randomly drawn through the Rafflecopter widget and will be contacted by email within 48 hours after the giveaway ends. The winner will then have 72 hours to respond. If the winner does not respond within 72 hours, a new draw will take place for a new winner. Odds of winning will vary depending on the number of eligible entries received. This contest is in no way sponsored, endorsed or administered by, or associated with Facebook. This giveaway is sponsored by the author, Mary Morony and is hosted and managed by Stacie from BeachBoundBooks. If you have any additional questions feel free to send an email to stacie@BeachBoundBooks.com.
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1 comments:
Thank you for sharing an excerpt from Done Growed Up and for participating in the blog tour.
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